Gojira

Godzilla Month: Gojira

A Film Review by Forrest Humphrey 

What other way would their be to begin my 4-film dive into the Godzilla franchise than to review 1954's Gojira, the film that kick started what the Guinness Book of World Records just recognized as the longest continuously running franchise in the history of cinema. With thirty five films and counting, Godzilla has had more appearances in movies than any fictional character with the possible exceptions of Sherlock Holmes and Dracula. But all thirty four of those films trace their lineage to this one film, and in the eyes of many, this remains not only the best Godzilla film, but one of the single most important and influential monster movies ever made and one of the most seminal works of Japanese cinema. 

And why is that? Well, let's get into it. The film was directed by Ishiro Honda, a friend and frequent collaborator with another beloved filmmaker Akira Kurosowa, and it draws inspiration from his time in World War II and the at the time, recent fallout of the atomic bomb. Honda's direction and focus on this theme lends the film a somber, melancholic tone that sets it wholly apart from the many “Monster on the loose” films that were popular at the time. Godzilla was not simply some lost dinosaur, it was a creature created by the reckless experimentation of mankind with forces it should not be tampering with. Godzilla's rampages in Tokyo are framed not as destruction scenes to marvel and cheer for, but horrific events as people run screaming from a true, unstoppable monster. Honda once said “Monsters are born too tall, too strong, too heavy—that is their tragedy”. This sentiment is emblematic of the film as well. Godzilla is, in his own way, a victim, he should not exist, and indeed as long as humanity continues to exist, there can be no co-existence. Godzilla is not simply meant to be terrifying, he is meant to be sympathetic. A creature content to live alone, horribly mutated and dragged away from its peaceful life, and killed when it retaliates against us. The final sequence of the film illustrates this beautifully as a sleeping, serene looking Godzilla is disturbed by the divers who have come to stop him. 

Assisting Honda in setting the bleak, sobering tone of this nuclear allegory of a film is composer Akira Ifukube. While his bombastic “March” themes, some of which are arguably among the most recognizable themes in cinema (Look up the “Godzilla March”, I almost guarantee you've hear it); his score for Gojira is subtle, tense, and perfectly underscores the fact that unlike most films in the series, Gojira is a horror film. One listen to “Godzilla's Rampage”, the track set to the attack scenes (when the film isn't simply letting the lack of music set the tone), sells this immediately. But his tracks also amplify the tragedy of the film as well. The other piece I'd like to call attention to is “Godzilla Under the Sea.” This plays during two of the most important scenes: the film's finale and the aftermath sequence.

I want to talk about this sequence briefly. The simple fact it exists at all sets it apart from most monster films where the action is taking place in conveniently abandoned areas so you don't have to think about how many people would otherwise be dying. What Ifukube's score plays over is one of the most solemn, tear inducing pieces of film I have ever seen. The ruins of Tokyo were modeled after the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, and a series of scenes with almost no dialogue whatsoever shows, instead of tells, of how devastated the people of Tokyo are, with hundreds dead in the streets and many more dying still. In particular: a doctor examines a young boy with a Geiger Counter, which is off the charts, before the man looks to his assistant and shakes his head, confirming this child, and many more people, will die from the poisoning effects of radiation that contaminated anything Godzilla got near, before we cut to an absolutely gut-wrenching scene of two orphaned girls wailing over the body of their mother. 

Before I speak on the third person of interest I would also like to highlight the acting in the film. It is a well known “fact” that the acting in Godzilla films is poor. Well, that's actually not the case, especially here. What many people criticize is not the acting, but the dubbing done by the studios who purchased and distributed the films in America. To say most studios didn't really care if their dub actors matched the performance of the original actors would be an understatement most of the time. This is why I consider it of paramount importance to watch this film (and any Godzilla film really) in its native Japanese if possible. Reading subtitles might be a pain, but when the dubbing ruins the emotion of a scene (Assuming the scene wasn't translated wrong on purpose to remove some of the darker themes from scenes, which absolutely happened along with cutting some scenes entirely to make the American cut of the film less depressing and shorter). The performances will shine through even if you don't understand what they are saying. The emotion carries through, and the physical acting does as well. To briefly highlight an example, I refer back to the scene of the aftermath, where actress Momoko Kochi, who plays the film's heroine Emiko, perfectly captures all the feelings that one would experience when trying to comfort a child in that scenario as she picks up one of the girls and hugs her, desperate to be strong for the child but clearly wanting to break down in despair. Another excellent example is Akihiko Hirata as Dr. Serizawa, the man who creates the Oxygen Destroyer, in the scene where Emiko and her lover Ogata beg him to use his creation to stop Godzilla, Hirata fantastically portrays a man torn between stopping a tragedy and creating another, fearing his device might be stolen and cause even more death and destruction than Godzilla ever could.

Digressions aside, the third man of the power trio, if you will, is one Eiji Tsuburaya, who's work with suitmation and miniatures bring Godzilla and his rampages to life. Anyone claiming that Godzilla films have poor effects simply don't understand the amount of work and talent that goes into them. Only the careful combination of a well-made suit (worn by actor Haruo Nakajima, who's wonderful suit-acting portrayed Godzilla in over a dozen films from 1954-1972), excellent miniatures and low-angled camera shots create and maintain the illusion that you are not watching a man in an (admittedly stiff) rubber suit stomping on toy buildings, but a hundred foot animal toppling buildings. Tsurubaya was a perfectionist, and it shows, though as one might expect from a film nearly seventy years old its obviously not always perfect. Sometimes you see a wire move Godzilla's tail, sometimes the puppet used for close ups looks off. But this film is a serious technical achievement, and any Godzilla film with solid effects like this will essentially hold up forever. CGI will advance and what's cutting edge now will be dated in less than a decade, but hand-crafted work will always show the talent and care behind it. 

To bring this review to a close, 1954's Gojira is, without exaggeration, a masterpiece of a film that deserves your attention and respect. Between its bleak and ever-relevant themes, haunting musical score, commendable special effects work, sobering portrayals of murky morality and the consequences of human recklessness, Gojira is a film that does not aim to make you feel good or happy. It poses hard questions and throws all subtlety aside to put the horrors of nuclear warfare before you. It is a cautionary tale, one that begs us to never forget what happened in 1945, so that we may strive to ensure it never happens again. If you can accept the limitations of the time it was filmed in, and don't go in expecting a goofy rubber monster WWE wrestling match, I simply must recommend finding a way to watch Gojira if you can. While I have three more films I'd like to discuss, this is the film that by far does the most work in proving that a Godzilla film can be more than a good time on a Saturday afternoon, but a work of true cinematic excellence.