Your Old Uncle laughing at a sex joke. That’ll teach you to tell your elders dirty jokes rather than engage in political discussions that result in mutual evisceration. At least he’s not squirting milk out his nose.
Godzilla Minus One (2023) is the series member – #37, according to Wikipedia – that finally takes the big step up. This is not a vague plot concerning a clutch of monsters fighting each other for obscure reasons. In this one, someone takes center stage and makes it stick. Pilot and survivor of World War II Kōichi Shikishima is burdened with a peculiarly Japanese version of survivor’s guilt. He’s looking for redemption in the remains of a devastated Tokyo, but he’s wracked with nightmares of a monster that he encountered during the war. And then, years later, the monster appears again, wrecking shipping on its way to Tokyo.
In response, Japanese citizens form a self-defense group and recruit Kōichi to man their lone plane, which will be used as a lure to bring the monster to a designated location where the scientists think they can destroy the monster. Their plane is a neglected, experimental plane that can only be brought into service by a man from Kōichi’s past, a man who knows his terrible secret.
And loathes him.
Well, the rest would be spoilers. But it should be clear to the experienced Godzilla fan that this is more of a plot than in any other entry in the canon; I can’t speak for other media.
But is it done well?
For the most part, yes, but it’s not perfect. Some of it may be simply my American eyes not interpreting the details properly in the context of Japanese society. For example, the rage of Kōichi at himself is expressed in such a way as to be reminiscent of the old movies, and I never much cared for that single dimensional approach, even if it is realistic.
Godzilla itself was also disturbingly mechanistic. Perhaps this is an allusion to other episodes that have suggested that his power source is actually a nuclear power plant. Or maybe the storytellers ran out of budget. But that is a little hard to believe, as other special effects are simply spectacular; indeed, the movie won an Oscar for special effects.
In terms of plot, the movie has some questionable points. For example, the emphasis on this being a privately run self-defense force was not believable. It seems highly unlikely that former Japanese Navy destroyers, even disarmed, would be given to such a group. Defense of the homeland is the business of government, not a bunch of World War II veterans. Another element, missing from all Godzilla movies, is Where is the Emperor? One would think a Divine, even a discredited Divine, would be called upon to lead the defense, but, as in all Godzilla movies, there’s no mention of the Emperor. And, finally, the wrap up is too soft, too unbelievable. It may have a symbolic point, but I couldn’t help but think there’s rarely a clean ending to any really good story, and this ending must have been created by Mr. Clean.
But there is one more element that is often not considered, and that’s the context. For the casual audience, this is a monster movie, but for the dedicated Godzilla fan, the context of actors in rubber suits and bad acting and dubious plots give this movie a bit of an extra ooomph, a transformation from a generally puzzling collection of films, or worse too-explicit (yes, yes, the point to this one is nuclear power is bad! I figured that out, thank you!), to a movie that explores the personal costs of a mere man becoming a hero, no matter how flawed in character or in story.
This is the best installment in the series, although I haven’t seen Godzilla x Kong (2024), and it’s almost worth a Recommended rating. If you haven’t seen it and have an inclination to see it, satisfy that inclination.
