Godzillahas always been a product of the Second World War, a metaphor for the nuclear hellfire that engulfed thousands in the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, burning centuries of infrastructure to the ground in a tragic final act to years of conflict. The creature represents not only nuclear devastation, but political apathy, a society that struggled to rebuild, and defining a new national identity in the face of defeat. But while the original kaiju was inspired by World War 2, rarely have we seen him placed so intimately within its aftermath. That is, until the arrival of Godzilla Minus One.
Following in the footsteps of Hideako Anno’s Shin Godzilla, which was a thorough dragging of government incompetence in the wake of the 2011 Fukushima nuclear disaster disguised as a monster movie, comes an equally political epic where those on the ground who fought to save a country that ultimately didn’t care about them matter far more than officials in ivory towers watching from on high. Director Takashi Yamazaki explores a vulnerable period in Japan’s history with heart and intimacy, telling a human story about triumph over trauma in a country that has yet to fully rebuild. Godzilla isn’t the monster here, merely a byproduct of a system that has grown to treat its people like cannon fodder, and fails to care for them when it all goes wrong.
Minus One is so authentic, and throughout its two-hour runtime, makes you feel as if you exist in the dreary miasma of late 1940s Japan. Many of its people live in the ruins of former homes, torn to pieces by air raids as corpses remain trapped under piles of rubble. For many of them, it’s all they have, with main characters Kōichi Shikishima and Noriko Ōishi travelling into the city for work where the rebuilding effort is in full force. While Tokyo is vastly bereft of the skyscrapers it would soon welcome, it remains a bustling metropolis for Godzilla to level.
The people, transport, businesses, and societal behaviour feel out of time, a big reason why everything about Minus One is so strikingly compelling. This world is alien, but also achingly familiar in ways viewers both international and domestic will see themselves in. To see the main characters speak so honestly about the ruin of their own lives and how their country has betrayed them again and again feels like a scathing critique of modern day Japan’s habit of paving over its past as much as a reflection of the immediate post-war mood.
Minus One brings all this to the surface, before destroying a world that thousands are still trying and failing to rebuild. One of its core themes is understanding how nobody should be beholden to war, or feel guilt for refusing to perish in the name of a meaningless duty. As a disgraced kamikaze pilot, our protagonist spends all the film turning down love, growth, and opportunity as he pursues a second chance at death. In his eyes, to live is to die, because his country has conditioned him to think of nothing else.
It’s a harsh, unrelenting, but ultimately positive story about finding hope in the midst of utter devastation, far more so than the comparatively bleak Shin Godzilla. It also hints at a future for the iconic kaiju, and what exactly Toho might have in store for this new era. After eating a plane’s worth of explosives during the film’s climax, Godzilla is seen sinking to the bottom of the ocean as our heroes celebrate their unexpected victory. Except, moments before the credits roll, the radioactive beast is seen regenerating into a far bigger, more sinister creature. He’s coming back, whether that be mere days or even decades from the film’s late 1940s timeframe. Chances are, he’ll return long before the modern day.
Toho has the opportunity to revive Godzilla in iconic periods throughout history, during times when Tokyo is growing into a superpower soon to be witnessed on the world stage. I’d love to see Godzilla emerge in the ‘60s, ‘70s, ‘80s, ‘90s, ‘00s, and then come full circle in modern day as each film dares to explore politically motivated stories with characters worth cheering on. Perhaps we might follow the same characters for a number of films, haunted by returning monsters despite doing everything they can to move on and grow. The endless possibilities and refreshingly mature storytelling current kaiju movies seem to be adopting has proven to be a recipe for success, and I hope there is so much more to come.
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