Issei Takahashi – Through the Shattered Lens

In 2004, Godzilla: Final Wars was released by Toho and promoted as Godzilla’s final film.

And indeed, for ten years, there was no sign of Godzilla. There were rumors that he would return but, for the most part, he was a fondly remembered relic of a different era. That changed in 2014, when Legendary Pictures produced and Warner Bros. distributed a new Americanized version of Godzilla. Though the new version was not particularly well received by critics, it did well enough at the box office to convince Toho that it was time to make a new Godzilla film of their own.

2016’s Shin Godzilla is not a sequel to any of the previous Godzilla films. Instead, Shin Godzilla imagines a continually evolving Godzilla attacking Japan, for the first time, in 2016. When Godzilla first appears, he definitely doesn’t look like himself. He doesn’t have his famous scaly skin. Instead of proudly striding through the cities and stepping onto buildings, he slithers through the streets. To be honest, he actually looks a little… well, goofy. At first, I wasn’t really sure that I would be able to accept this Godzilla. However, the film apparently predicted my reaction. Throughout the film, Godzilla slowly transforms (or “evolves,” as the film puts it) into the majestic monster that we all know and love. And when that Godzilla finally made his appearance, I wanted to cheer. I also wanted to hide behind the couch, because this is one of those films where Godzilla has no interest in being a nice guy. He lives to destroy, and Shin Godzilla, made in the aftermath of the earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear crisis that rocked Japan in March 2011, doesn’t shy away from showing the amount of damage and death that would result from an actual monster attack.

The film uses Godzilla sparingly. Instead, most of the running time is taken up with meetings. The Japanese government meets and tries to figure out what to do about the monster that’s attacking their country. The military is unprepared. The citizens have no memory of being put under a national emergency. The prime ministers (yes, the film goes through more than one) all look like they’re about to have a panic attack when they’re expected to make a decision. The Americans send over an envoy (Satomi Ishihara) who views dealing with Godzilla as a way to further her own political ambitions. Running throughout the film is the idea that the Japanese government has been left powerless to deal with real emergencies. The film’s ineffective bureaucrats become stand-ins for the same bureaucrats who failed in 2011. This is the most openly political Godzilla film since the first one.

Indeed, Shin Godzilla is far more concerned with how the government reacts to Godzilla than with Godzilla himself. I imagine that was, and probably still is, an issue for some viewers of the film. Myself, I appreciated the film’s portrait of a useless and largely impotent bureaucracy full of entrenched people who were more concerned with their own advancement than with protecting the citizens they were supposed to be serving. There’s a satirical edge to Shin Godzilla that I absolutely loved. Be glad Godzilla isn’t real, the film seems to be saying, because these idiots certainly aren’t going to protect you. Instead, all they can do is issue meaningless statements and pointless regulations designed to maintain the illusion of their own power. In its way, Shin Godzilla predicted the entire COVID era. It’s a Godzilla film with a lesson for us all.

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