Ken Van Wagner

When the name Godzilla is mentioned, no explanation is needed as to who (or what) is the topic of discussion. However, in the sixty-four years since his first film debut, this iconic film monster has had more career ups and downs than John Travolta, and fans and critics alike have widely varied opinions on this monster’s best and worst depictions in this long-running franchise. Recognized world-wide, Godzilla is to giant monsters what Mickey Mouse is to animated characters – there may be better examples of both, but there is little argument that Disney’s mouse and Toho’s creation are undeniably popular AND extremely profitable to the point that they long ago transcended their original conception of movie characters into a variety of media.  Godzilla spun off from the movies into comic books, video games, manga, animated tv series, model kits, toys and even advertising.  It is difficult to believe that when the original Gojira was produced back in 1954, Toho studios was investing in a huge gamble; their was no guarantee that their Tokusatsu film would prove financially successful. With one of the largest budgets for a Japanese film up to that point, this was no foray into low-budget film-making. That the film was successful domestically was a triumph for Toho; but what set Gojira apart from other contemporary Japanese films was its success in the international market. In the US at least, this was due in no small part to a recut, English dubbed, with additional footage shot with actor Raymond Burr in his pre-Perry Mason days released two years after the original: Godzilla, King of the Monsters.

 

You can decide. I only saw the original Gojira within the last twenty years; not really a fair comparison to my childhood impressions. Gojira might be the better film overall from a critical standpoint, but Godzilla was the monster movie that I remember from all those hot summer evenings that gave me nightmares!

Now I’m not going to debate (or deride) the merits of Gojira vs Godzilla, King of the Monsters; there are enough reviewers and film scholars who have discussed this at length, and retreading old ground isn’t the point of my site. But as background, as a kid growing up in New Jersey in the heyday of pre-cable broadcast television, I had the joy of being within reception of most of the local New York stations. Exposed to all manner of old movies that were shown either as late shows or “genre” weeks, I saw many Japanese science – fiction films, always re-dubbed into English with varying success. Most were the later color films from the 1960’s and early seventies, but of all of them, one stood out from the rest- Godzilla, King of the Monsters. Even with the recut, the insertion of Raymond Burr, and the toning down of the anti-nuclear message, this film still existed on a plane of consciousness different from the many sequels that followed in its wake. There was no sly winking at the audience that this would be Saturday matinee absurdity, like King Kong vs. Godzilla or Monster Zero (aka: Invasion of the Astro Monster); Godzilla, King of the Monsters took itself as seriously as the original film it was cut from. Even if Gojira had not spawned the over two dozen plus (and still counting!) sequels, reboots and sequels to the reboots, this film would still have stood out as a cut above the average B-movie monster flicks of the time.

Gojira was inspired in no small part by several sources.  From cinema, the financially successful 1952 re-release of King Kong (nearly twenty years after its first run in 1933!) followed by the 1953 success of Ray Harryhausen’s The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms (itself tapping into the monster-on-the-loose well Kong’s re-release opened). Another, darker source was the all-too real experiences of World War Two and Imperial Japan’s defeat culminating in the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. And perhaps the most influential, the Castle Bravo H-bomb test of March 1, 1954, which created the worst radiological disaster of the entire US nuclear testing program. More importantly from Japan’s perspective, the ill-fated fishing boat Daigo Fukuryū Maru (Lucky Dragon Number Five) that was caught in the downwind fallout of the bomb test and the subsequent radiation poisoning of the exposed crew raised awareness in Japan and elsewhere of the dangers of nuclear testing and its unforeseen consequences. Although The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms used the premise of a polar nuclear test to unleash its prehistoric monster, the nuclear aspect of the Rhedosaurus was largely muted, instead exploiting the anachronistic spectacle of the monster destroying boats, a lighthouse, and finally wandering amidst the concrete canyons of Manhattan. Other than using the novelty of the bomb as the catalyst which looses the creature, Beast (although my favorite Ray Harryhausen film from his b/w period) has far more in common with the pre-atomic age King Kong or the silent 1925 Lost World then with the later atomic-themed monsters that followed in its wake. There is no denying that Beast set the foundation for American giant monster films of the 1950’s and beyond, but it took another country, the only one that experienced the receiving end of nuclear fury not just in war but in peacetime to create a cinematic icon that combined mythological aspects, cultural introspection, and moral dilemmas that permeated the subconscious far beyond a simple “monster-on-the-loose” story.

So what is it about this film I love? While The War of the Worlds provided spectacle in beautiful Technicolor, Gojira (and Godzilla KotM) had something else: atmosphere. Although I don’t believe it was intentional on the part of the studio, there is no way to underestimate the effect of using the rather delicate nitrate black and white film stock for this film. Even when I recently got the Criterion Blu-Ray restoration of both Gojira and Godzilla, the footage still has the look of a documentary: while the scratches had mostly been removed, and the soundtrack remarkably cleaned up, the original Gojira footage is still several degrees grainier or softer focused than the inter-cut American footage from Godzilla, though with this restoration it is less noticeable than before. This in no way denigrates from the film; instead the underexposed footage and lack of sharp focus greatly enhances the special effect scenes. I knew even from my earliest viewings of the film that the monster was mostly brought to life through a stunt performer wearing a thick suit, but by having Godzilla primarily appear at night, the flaws of that first suit design are hardly noticeable, especially when compared to studio publicity shots in broad daylight where the suit’s walleyed expression and breathing holes in the neck are clearly visible.

Why good cinematography is ESSENTIAL! The camera can be cruel or kind (or playful) I can think of many a special effect scene that was saved (or spoiled) by how it was composed. On the left, a shadowy towering monstrosity, unstoppable in his advance; on the right, costume party date!

Like The War of the Worlds, Gojira/Godzilla was also set in the hot, hazy days of summer. The first victim of his wrath, a small freighter the Eiko-Maru is sunk on August 13, with another sunk only hours later. These first attacks are at night, and as I mentioned earlier, having the majority of Godzilla’s appearances at night added tremendously to the overall nightmarish quality of the film. Again like The War of the Worlds, Gojira/Godzilla doesn’t hold back on scenes of death and destruction at least by the standards of the 1950’s. American monster films of the same era rarely depicted such scenes due to budgetary restrictions or US censorship codes (this was the Cold War after all, and the last thing the government wanted was a graphic if fictionalized view of what nuclear weapons could inflict on civilian population centers.) The Rhedosaurus marched through Manhattan, but you sensed once the monster was put down, a few weeks of cleaning up and you’d hardly notice that New York had been rampaged through. Same with even the Godzilla-sized octopus of It Came From Beneath the Sea or the “big as a battleship” ridiculous bird-puppet of The Giant Claw. The only non-Japanese monster film from this period that even came close to Gojira/Godzilla’s level of destruction was the titular monster of the UK produced Gorgo, which is interesting as the monster’s rampage was comparable in scope to the Blitz of London during World War Two, while Gojira/Godzilla clearly mirrored not only Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but the conventional firebombing of Tokyo and other Japanese cities during the war. The latter film’s scenes of Tokyo in flames was a grim reminder of events that had transpired only nine years earlier, and the aftermath of scenes of victims burned and/or irradiated almost too close to home to be palatable to Japanese audiences when the film was first released.

While Godzilla, King of the Monsters is often neglected or dismissed when kaiju films are discussed, nevertheless for an American recut, it works surprising well. While repeating viewing does produce the unfortunate effect of revealing some glaring errors (Japanese characters who were described as dying in Burr’s voice over narration early in some scenes appear in later scenes as one example) one of the better choices made for the American recut was to leave intact most of Akira Ifukube’s somber score. Unlike the Americanized versions of Godzilla Raids Again, Rodan, Varan or most notoriously King Kong vs Godzilla, the original score was not replaced with stock cues from whatever studio had the US distribution rights. Akira Ifukube’s score would be recomposed numerous times over the next sixty years, but even in this first film, Gojira’s theme is front and center, something that was unique to Toho’s monsters. Every major kaiju over the next ten years would have a theme unique to their character, a musical accompaniment to reflect power, terror, or in the case of Mothra, melancholy fantasy.

And speaking of melancholy, there is little in Gojira or Godzilla that reflects optimism, or even relief. A recurring theme even in the Americanized version is the underlying despair that even comes across in Raymond Burr’s portrayal of an American newsman caught up in Godzilla’s reign of terror. Even before Godzilla makes his way to Tokyo, the human protagonists are each introduced as caught up in a moral dilemma of their own, especially the three-way relationship between Emiko Yamane (Momoko Kōchi), her “unofficial” boyfriend of Hideto Ogata (Akira Takarada), and her formally betrothed, Dr. Daisuke Serizawa (Akihiko Hirata). Emiko and Ogata are in love, and while they really don’t hide that fact from anyone, both are wracked with guilt over their relationship as neither wants to confront Serizawa who though appearing aloof still has feelings for Emiko. As for the doctor himself, he has his own personal cross to bear; having discovered a new power that has the potential to be as lethal as nuclear weapons if used maliciously, he is torn between the desire to find a peaceful application for his discovery or to hide his secret from the world indefinitely if he fails to find one. As a plot device, Godzilla provides the means to bring the tensions between these three to a head. Even Emiko’s father Dr. Yamane (played by the great Takashi Shimura, one of Akira Kurosawa’s favorite actors) is caught up in the conflict the monster’s appearance creates, wanting Gojira to be studied to determine how the creature could survive exposure to intense radioactivity from H-bomb testing, while the government seeks only a way to kill this aberration of nature. Unlike The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms, there is no explanation given as to why Godzilla decides to set his sights on Japan, but considering what Godzilla was supposed to represent to Japanese audiences, this lack of explanation doesn’t hinder the film.

The buildup to the first appearance of Godzilla is one of my favorite sequences from the film, even if the Big G himself isn’t onscreen. In both Japanese and American versions, a typhoon begins blowing at night on Odo Island, where a small Japanese fishing village is located.  Just prior to the storm, village elders had explained to visiting authorities that the mysterious ship disasters were caused by a monster lurking offshore of the island; a creature from folklore called Gojira or Godzilla, depending on which version you are watching. While the typhoon brings wind, rain and lightning, it brings something else as well; something large enough to make the ground boom from its footsteps, something that (in Godzilla, anyway) pierces the sound of the storm with a thunderous roar, and most terrible of all, something that crushes buildings in the village and kills several people in its path.

Even now, after years of living in hurricane territory, whenever one makes landfall nearby I always think back to this sequence, and the nightmares it gave me.  At least I have yet to come across giant footprints though!

After this buildup, Godzilla is revealed (at least from the shoulders up) in broad daylight, but his appearance is hardly a letdown. Unlike his later incarnations, where his personality was reflected in the whimsical and increasingly juvenile costumes up until his first reboot in 1984, this Godzilla is a horror of size, teeth, and noise. Although there were a few attempts in the Showa series (running from 1954 through 1975) that had Godzilla portrayed as an unstoppable force of nature, none of the later films showcased how terrifying a creature 50 meters tall would seem to anyone close up.

Faced with this menace, the Japanese Self Defense Forces do their best to try to eliminate the threat, but like nuclear weapons, Godzilla represents a level of power that no conventional force could hope to confront head on and survive. As clearly shown in the real-world nuclear tests conducted by both the US and the Soviet Union throughout the 1950’s, ships, planes, tanks, and troops would be all but annihilated when directly exposed to the power of a nuclear explosion. Godzilla’s first full appearance on land has the creature come ashore from Tokyo Bay and tread heavily until a commuter train runs smack into his foot. After trampling the train cars, trashing a bridge and scaring the bejesus out of the passengers that somehow survive the carnage, Godzilla turns and heads back to the water. Now clearly aware of the threat, the government fully mobilizes the military to defend Japan’s capital, as all manner of artillery and tanks are lined up to repel or kill the monster should he appear again. In addition, a high tension line is strung around the area Godzilla is most likely to make landfall. However, just like the confident US military leaders surrounding the Martians in their gully, the Self-Defense Forces have no idea of what they are truly in for. For just like the Martians, Godzilla first wades into the line of fire, contacting the high tension lines, fighting both the lethal voltage and cannon fire going off all around him, neither doing any real harm. Eventually though, he is provoked into unleashing his deadliest weapon, a reference to mythology with a scientific twist – an  intense beam of radioactive fire blown from his mouth. Once the monster releases this power, whatever chance Tokyo had of getting by with a few damaged buildings is literally gone with the wind. With this display, there is no doubt that Godzilla represented a nuclear weapon – his legs and tail the blast, his body the radiation, and his breath the thermal pulse that could ignite anything flammable within range. Generating enough heat to melt steel, once hit by this radioactive blowtorch the high tension towers glow white-hot and collapse, buildings burst into flame, and soldiers futilely try to outrun this hellfire before being incinerated.

“Time for a career change, George. I’ve…I’ve always had a dream of going to law school, or becoming a police detective, or maybe even stand up comedy…”

While this second rampage is really the highlight of the film (and the reason fans have loved Godzilla trampling cities ever since) there are moments that again go above and beyond typical monster movies of the time. In one scene, a woman huddles with her three children as embers from the firestorm fall around her; whether you understood her Japanese or not, you know she and her children are doomed and she is resigned to their fate-a scene that few US films would have included. In two other sequences, two separate television news reporters are commenting on the monster’s rampage – both men’s faces glistening with sweat from a combination of heat and fear – one reporter from a relatively safe distance, but the other is transmitting live from a tower directly in Godzilla’s path. Realizing there is no escape, the desperate man continues to broadcast even as he announces he and his cohorts are finished; the tv camera panning higher and higher as the monster looms over them.

Fake news, indeed.

In one incongruous scene a brief glimpse of what Godzilla could have been appears. It was said that Toho’s special effects head Eiji Tsuburaya was enamored with the original King Kong, and had hoped to create Gojira using the painstakingly slow stop motion process that Willis O’Brien (and Ray Harryhausen) had used when bringing Kong (and Harryhausen’s Rhedosaurus) to life. Incredibly, and as a strange coincidence foreshadowing Harryhausen’s It Came From Beneath the Sea that was in production at the same time as Gojira, Tsuburaya wanted the monster to be a giant octopus!  Fortunately instead, we got the towering dinosaur/dragon/god we have all loved for over six decades. Even so, I think Tsuburaya wanted at least one shot to pay homage to his love of stop motion:

I have never read who actually animated the tail for this shot, but it wouldn’t surprise me if Tsuburaya did it himself! In the history of Godzilla, only one other film comes to mind that had any stop motion in addition to the Suitmation and animatronic effects, two also brief shots in (appropriately) King Kong vs. Godzilla!

After his hissy fit through Tokyo, Godzilla finally retreats back into the bay, leaving even Dr. Yamane convinced that yeah, maybe studying something so destructive and uncontrollable is not a good idea if you have to trade cities and thousands of lives in the process. Interestingly, this second rampage is not even close to the end of the film – rather it’s the third act. The real drama is yet to come, as Emiko reveals to Ogata the secret Serizawa had revealed to her. The scientist had inadvertently stumbled upon a WMD, a way to disintegrate all living matter in water by destroying the oxygen in it(?) Serizawa’s Oxygen Destroyer might be the means to defeat Godzilla, but at what cost? Serizawa himself states when he first made his discovery he was frightened beyond words, unable to eat or sleep for days. Yet in spite of this, he continued his research, reflecting the conflict many Manhattan Project scientist felt towards the end of the war, when Germany’s defeat was imminent, and the threat that Hitler would have nuclear weapons first was over. In spite of Germany’s surrender, work on the atomic bomb continued, ultimately to be used against Japan which had a negligible nuclear weapons program at best compared to the US effort. In both Japanese and US versions, Serizawa’s conflict is clear, though in the US version it is slanted more towards “weapon falling into the wrong (read: communist) hands” rather than simply a fear that the Oxygen Destroyer would provoke an arms race on both sides.

Ultimately, Serizawa is moved to use his device after being convinced that the real – life horror of Godzilla has to be stopped even if as a consequence it may bring worse down the line. In any other film, Serizawa would be touted as the heroic scientist who dreams up the solution that saves the day; in Gojira however, Serizawa realizes that while his Oxygen Destroyer is the means to end the terror of Godzilla, the only way he can guarantee it never be used again is to take his own life along with the monster’s.

With Ifukube’s dirge-like score accompanying Ogata and Serizawa as they descend into Tokyo Bay armed with Serizawa’s only supply of his Oxygen Destroyer, this sequence is not really suspenseful in the sense of will it or won’t it work; instead it is a slow motion ballet performed by the divers and Godzilla himself. Unlike the fire-raging beast on land, when we first see Godzilla on the bottom of the bay, the creature is simply resting. As though spent by his rampage, Godzilla is still awe inspiring when viewed underwater, but perhaps whatever rage compelled him to rise from the ocean to attack has now subsided; he is almost peaceful. Nevertheless, the threat he represents has to be neutralized. As Ogata vainly cries for the doctor to accompany him to the surface, Serizawa and Godzilla face off, the doctor unleashing what was probably an agonizing death to a creature that had brought death. Instead of a triumphant celebration at the vanquishing of this nightmare, the death of Godzilla was as tragic as Serizawa’s-neither wanted to have what they acquired through science, but neither could go on living with the power (or knowledge of power) that they wielded.  Far from the end however, in Gojira at least, Dr. Yamane speaks a warning out loud that unless nuclear testing is stopped, another Godzilla would appear.

And appear, and appear, and appear…

This is why I believe Godzilla has managed to survive as a decades-long franchise whereas a monster even as popular as King Kong has not. While I will unabashedly declare the original King Kong is my all-time favorite movie, Kong himself was one of a kind (unless you count the quicky sequel Son of Kong.)  Except for the the two remakes in 1976 and 2005, the hilarious Toho incarnations in King Kong vs Godzilla and King Kong Escapes, the regrettable King Kong Lives! and the recent Kong: Skull Island, King Kong exists as a single entity, and his incarnations (and motivations) are pretty limited. Of course as Godzilla vs King Kong is scheduled for release in 2020, Kong’s shot at a bigger franchise may be coming. Godzilla, with his long running history has more in common with a comic book superhero (or villain), in that over the years he has developed numerous powers, different appearances, fought all manner of opponents, and even formed his own kaiju version of the Avengers at least once in his long career. He has grown from 50 meters to 100 plus meters and back, and even survived the transition from Suitmation to CGI relatively intact. But long before any of this, Gojira (and Godzilla) was a monster, and a film, that entered our subconscious nightmares of an uncontrollable power lurking in the night, ready to unleash Armageddon at any moment.

Although the summer is almost over, I hope to have one more posting following this thread. Not a monster, nor an alien, but a terrifying view of the future from 1971, The Omega Man.

-Ken

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