‘Godzilla Minus One’ Review
Ever since Ishirô Honda’s prolific 1954 film, Godzilla, the titular kaiju has starred in multiple films that vary from exploring the impact humanity has had on its own environment and society, to the campy battle royales between gargantuan beasts. Humanity has always been involved in these stories, and in some cases, the complaint is that there’s not enough Godzilla (Gareth Edwards’ 2014 film, Godzilla, received many complaints along those lines). What is surprising about Takashi Yamazaki’s Godzilla Minus One is not that it’s focused on the human side of conflict, but that it manages to do that while reminding audiences what makes Godzilla so terrifying. It’s not just a monster, it’s a mirror image of society and the perpetual war machine that destroys it over and over.
Set in postwar Japan, amid tensions between the United States and the Soviet Union, Godzilla Minus One pulls no punches when addressing the political climate and general hesitancy to protect its people from future conflicts. Opening at the tail-end of World War II, Koichi Shikishima (Ryunosuke Kamiki) makes a sudden landing on Odo Island to have his plane repaired. A kamikaze pilot with second thoughts, the disgrace to his country is outweighed by his desire not to die. However, he bears the burden of death anyway as the entire island is attacked by a mysterious monster - named “Godzilla” by the local inhabitants. Somehow surviving the attack, he returns home to Tokyo only to discover his family was killed by a series of air raid bombings launched by the United States.
Traumatized by the attack on Odo Island and the wreckage he has returned to in Tokyo, Koichi’s despair is alleviated temporarily by a run-in with Noriko (Minami Hamabe), a survivor of the air raids who swore to take care of a mother’s child when evacuating. Koichi now finds himself sharing his home with Noriko and the two form a bond out of their shared loneliness. To make ends meet, Koichi joins a small group of ex-military personnel who are now acting as minesweepers, going through the ocean and removing submerged mines now that the war is over. However, the peace that allows for Japan to heal and rebuild is interrupted by the return of Godzilla, who is now massive and angry thanks to the nuclear tests done by the United States at Bikini Atoll.
Right from the outset, it is clear that Yamazaki’s screenplay has a lot to say about Japan’s government and the way soldiers are convinced that the best way to help their country is through sacrifice. Koichi’s fateful introduction to Godzilla is one where he shouldn’t have even been there; he should have been dead. Throughout the opening scene, he’s given multiple moments to throw his life on the line, and he freezes each and every time. It’s perceived as a failure to his country, to his family’s honor, and to himself. Flashes of the attack now haunt him throughout the film and he struggles to separate his life from Godzilla’s. Had he acted on Odo Island, could he have stopped Godzilla?
Emotionally stirring as it is, with an arc that tugs on heartstrings far more effectively than most would expect from a kaiju film, Godzilla Minus One is also an outright spectacle. The scale is tremendous to behold and combined with Naoki Satô’s updating of the iconic Godzilla theme music becomes this monolithic force of nature. As Godzilla’s havoc threatens Japan’s infrastructure, it’s met with a surprising lack of retaliation. He’s unstoppable, and the Japanese government does not want to burden the rest of the world with its problems, so it seems to do almost nothing. That the major conflict in Godzilla Minus One ends up being between the intimidating scale and force of Godzilla and private citizens forced to act when their government refuses, shows a complete disregard for human life and a country’s own citizens during wartime. It’s not the people that they’re worried about losing, it’s the infrastructure or the alliances.
This also explains why a lot of Godzilla Minus One’s action takes place at sea. With that comes incredibly detailed setpieces designed to highlight the scale of its monster and the tense inevitability that nothing can stop Godzilla from coming ashore. It also emphasizes lives lost a little more clearly than letting Godzilla create wanton destruction throughout the city streets. When he takes down a building, the loss is only felt if humans are shown in danger - too often, we see buildings destroyed during evacuations and it’s now commonplace that they have to show us someone being crushed by its debris. If it takes out a small fishing boat in a vast empty sea, the loss is more clearly indicated. That boat isn’t just infrastructure; it’s someone’s livelihood and didn’t just drift out to sea. It results in something far more harrowing but also surrounds Koichi with a constant reminder of his guilt about Odo Island. Godzilla isn’t just an enemy force at this point and takes on the physical embodiment of Koichi’s guilt - a guilt spurred on by a government that assigned him to die a pilot, and the country’s citizens that turned their back on him when he failed to do so.
Again, Yamazaki’s screenplay packs so many ideas into it that it’s easy to see Godzilla representing one thing versus another depending on the context and the person you’re talking to about it. At first, the film seems to be about self-preservation, and then it spirals into a PTSD-ridden reminder of the horrors of war until it’s a powerful statement on the will to live - something that can have potency from both Koichi and Godzilla’s perspective. If kaiju destruction is what you crave out of your Godzilla films, Godzilla Minus One delivers a disaster epic worthy of the character’s legacy. That alone would be enough to make Godzilla Minus One a stellar addition to the prolific franchise. However, Yamazaki goes further to cement Godzilla Minus One as the best Godzilla film since 2016’s Shin Godzilla and stands tall alongside Honda’s monumental classic.
