This review from Godzilla Minus one was originally posted in conjunction with the film’s theatrical release. It has been updated and reposted now that the film is available on digital platforms.
Godzilla Minus one is the throwback film that longtime Godzilla fans have been waiting for. This is an era of plenty for Godzilla media: Over the past seven years, as part of a partnership between Toho and Hollywood studios, the giant lizard has received three animated films on Netflix, two American films and an Apple TV series coming in November premieres. 17. Godzilla fans like me have nothing left to be desired. And yet, something crucial is missing from most of this media, something fundamental to the first films in the Godzilla franchise: terror.
We had almost a decade of terrifying Godzilla. In 2016, Hideaki Anno and Shinji Higuchi were released the gruesome Shin Godzilla, widely considered one of the best entries in the franchise. It promised a return to the petrifying, humanity-destroying Godzilla of the past. But Shin Godzilla marked a long hiatus in the production of Japanese live-action Godzilla films and heralded the beginning of a hugely successful American era for the great lizard. The American Godzilla Media of the Last Seven Years, Including Godzilla: King of the Monsters, Godzilla vs. Kongand those Netflix anime films, range from serviceable to pretty damn good, though their creators have borrowed far more from the Marvel Cinematic Universe than from classic kaiju matinees.
After years of letting Hollywood take its contractually obligated turn, Toho returns with a literal throwback film that sends Godzilla nearly a century into the past. He doesn’t have one cute friends in this new Japanese-produced live-action piece. You won’t see him save Tokyo from one kaiju representing oceanic pollutionor a Reptilian mech that embodies capitalism gone wrong. You won’t see King Kong or hear the Monsterverse mentioned either.
Instead of, Godzilla Minus one sticks to the original recipe. The film that started it all: 1954 godzilla, combines horror, classic melodrama and a feverish anti-war message to debunk the concerns of 1950s Japan. Minus one goes even further into the past, with a story set in the immediate aftermath of World War II. Writer-director Takashi Yamazaki (who brought another beloved franchise back to basics with Lupine III: The first) imagines how a Japan with no army, no economy, and no international support would respond to Godzilla’s first attack.
Is this a restart then? A remake? A new performance? A little bit of all of the above.
Our reluctant hero is Koichi Shikishima (Ryunosuke Kamiki), a kamikaze pilot who feigned a plane malfunction to escape death in the final hours of the war. In a Godzilla movie, the giant monsters usually wear the central political metaphorbut in Minus one, Koichi carries that burden on his tiny human body. A kamikaze pilot who survived the war, he returns to his neighborhood and discovers that little remains besides the rubble and a few surviving neighbors.
This is ground-level Godzilla storytelling: We see events through the eyes of Koichi, his neighbors, and his colleagues, rather than through expert government leaders, superhuman soldiers, or Godzilla himself. As with any great Kaiju film, we spend much of the first half of the film learning to care for these lovely humans just before their world is wiped out by hundreds of tons of giant lizards.
Koichi is an unusually grim protagonist, even by the standards of the gloomier early Godzilla films. He despises himself for his decision to bail on his kamikaze mission, and his neighbors, who have lost their homes and families, aren’t particularly happy to see him either. Nevertheless, together they rebuild from bombed blocks into huts with bivouacs and eventually into modest houses located in the suburbs of Tokyo. Considering this is a Godzilla movie, it’s like watching people rebuild their lives with a giant box of dominoes.
Image: Toho
Minus one is a period piece not only in terms of aesthetics: the story itself feels like something preserved from the 1950s. Yamazaki immerses it in the melodrama of a classic historical epic. His characters are romantic with a capital R, constantly making bold statements and big sacrifices, discussing heavy topics where modern characters would. joke about shawarma.
Koichi and his companions debate the power of nonviolence, the value of self-preservation, and the unjust expectations that governments place on their people in times of war. This last point makes Godzilla Minus one a surprisingly powerful combination with Hayao Miyazaki’s animated semi-biopic The wind blowsand a timely response Japan’s current military build-up.
Of course, it’s right when Koichi and company start to open their hearts and get their feet on the ground that Godzilla arrives. (Technically, he appears earlier in the film, but I’ll spare you the spoilers.) When Godzilla makes his first legitimate impression, he resembles a 2023 version of the original Godzilla: the living manifestation of nuclear terror. His initial physical destruction is overshadowed by his heat ray, which, as seen in the trailer, leaves little more than a crater and a mushroom cloud.
Image: Toho
This is the moment in modern Godzilla films when the heroes send in mechs, a rival kaiju, or an advanced military aircraft. But Minus oneTo its credit, it sticks to the original formula and uses historical reality to wave away easy solutions. Most of the Japanese army was dismantled after the surrender to the US, and the remaining warships were sent away for disassembly. The US government won’t help either; the government is afraid to move weapons into the region, which could provoke a fearful Soviet Union. So there is only one group left to stop Godzilla: the civilian population. It’s a legitimately terrifying prospect: a group of regular humans versus a kaiju.
For those of us under 70, it can be challenging to conceptualize Godzilla as a truly terrifying horror monster. Hell, he’s appearing in an upcoming one children’s book that embraces the power of love. But in 1954, Godzilla terrified audiences around the world as a metaphor for nuclear weapons’ imprecise, passionless ability to level entire cities.
In his back half, Minus one recreates that style of terror with human commitment and an intensely political message. Yamazaki brings together the threads he has carefully laid: Koichi’s sanity, the barely rebuilt Japan, the absent government, the abandoned army and, in true classic melodrama fashion, a love story. He then pits them against an indifferent, catastrophic force.
Image: Toho
Is Godzilla the threat of nuclear weapons? The temptation to respond to violence with more violence? An indifferent American military in a period of national reconstruction? The fact that Godzilla Minus one These questions highlight what modern Godzilla media has missed.
Do not get me wrong; I’ve enjoyed almost a decade of Godzilla entertainment in America. But as someone who has Shin Godzilla on top of his Godzilla tier list, who introduced his child to Mothra at far too young an age, and currently has a Hedorah anatomy poster behind him, this is the Godzilla I’ve been waiting for.
Godzilla films offer filmmakers a precious opportunity to tell political stories, not just about individuals, but about communities or even entire nations. And because Godzilla movies will always feature a Kaiju destroying famous cities and landmarks, like a toddler let loose in a Lego museum, people will show up. It’s a fantastic entertainment vessel for big ideas. Godzilla has been giving us lots of sugar for years. But given the state of the world, I’m glad he’s showing up with some medicine.
Godzilla Minus one is streaming on Netflixand is available for digital rental at Amazon, Vuduand similar digital platforms.