Godzilla: We Need to Talk About the Military

*This article will contain spoilers for Godzilla (1954), Godzilla (1998), Shin Godzilla, and Godzilla Minus One.*

Just about ever Godzilla movie ever made has one scene in common: the military attack scene. You know the one. That one scene where tanks and planes bombard the monster uselessly for upwards of five minutes. The scene where the pyrotechnics crew on each film really earns their paychecks.

On the surface, these scenes are basically just mindless action. Humanity’s pitiful attempts to defend themselves from the unstoppable monster. They’re loud, flashy, and altogether futile.

But in terms of the stories themselves? I’d argue these scenes are actually some of the most important in the series. No, seriously!

This series changes thematically quite a bit from movie to movie. Sometimes, such as the original film, Godzilla is a walking metaphor for nuclear destruction. Others, like Shin Godzilla, he’s a living natural disaster. In GMK, he’s literally the angry spirits of dead WWII soldiers personified. In Minus One, he’s the embodiment of survivor’s guilt. So on and so forth.

However the themes change, there’s an idea at the heart of Godzilla as a character. One that is often forgotten thanks to some of his cheesier, more infamous films. That being a message of anti-war.

In most of the films, Godzilla is a creature born of war. Whether he be an angry ghost or a dinosaur bathed in atomic fire, his existence is a consequence of conflict. It’s fitting, then, that human weapons usually don’t have any effect on the creature. Violence begets violence, war doesn’t solve war, you get the idea.

To me, this has always been one of the most interesting aspects of Godzilla films. A lot of the time, they’re just big dumb romps with dudes in rubber suits having cheesy fights, which is enjoyable in it’s own way. But when the IP is taken seriously, these films are surprisingly powerful stories of anti-violence!

Look no further than the original 1954 film. You all know the drill. Godzilla gets nuked, becomes an unstoppable monster, lays waste to Tokyo, etc. Tanks, planes, electric wires, the works, nothing works.

Nothing, except the Oxygen Destroyer, a new super weapon developed by Dr. Serizawa, a veteran of WWII (hence the eyepatch). This accidental discovery is far more deadly and powerful than the nuclear bomb, and as such, Serizawa keeps it, and himself, hidden away. It’s only with great reluctance that the doctor puts his invention to use, and even then, he destroys his research and gives his life to ensure no one will ever develop a similar weapon again.

This is a grim and powerful point on the cycle of violence. No matter how dangerous the weapon, another one even deadlier than that will eventually come around. Serizawa only breaks the cycle through self-sacrifice. Even so, nukes are still around, and it’s only a matter of time until someone else finds something even worse.

Or, y’know, another Godzilla shows up. Luckily for the folks in that original timeline, that big G went on to be a gravity-defying super hero. All’s well that ends well, I guess.

Next, let’s look at how Shin Godzilla explores the idea. This film has the classic military scene done exceptionally well. The Japanese army hits the big G with everything they’ve got and get wiped out. When they escalate their attacks, Godzilla does the same, laying Tokyo to waste in two minutes flat. A clear and powerful point on the snowball effect of violence.

More than that, it also takes a hard look at how the military itself functions. Like the rest of the Japanese government, the army is wrapped in so much bureaucratic red tape it may as well be a Christmas present. To get anything done, a soldier needs to request their superior for authorization, who will ask their superior for authorization, who will ask their superior for authorization, who will ask their superior – you understand the point. By the time anyone gets clearance to do anything, it’s too late to do any good.

In this film, Godzilla primarily represents the earthquakes and tsunami that struck Japan in 2011. Many Japanese citizens had issues with their government’s slow and lackluster response, which ultimately led to more death and destruction that could have been prevented. Just as they could’ve acted then, so too could the military in the film have stopped Godzilla before he evolved too far to be killed. But because of all the red tape, that was never accomplished.

It isn’t a military force that defeats Godzilla, but a scientific one. The Yaguchi Plan isn’t about killing the titular monster, but pacifying and freezing it. They need to learn not how to dispose of it, but to live with it. What could be a more important anti-war message than co-existence?

In many ways, Shin is an evolution of the themes present in the original film. In 1954, the movie advocates for the eradication of nuclear power. In 2016, it was clear that that was never going to happen, so the story instead explored the question of how we can live with it peacefully rather than weaponize it. It’s intriguing and powerful stuff!

Finally, we have Minus One. If you’ve seen the film, this one should be obvious. Believe it or not, the movie set just after World War II isn’t exactly subtle about it’s anti-war themes.

Which is ironic, since this is one of the few Godzilla movies without the series’ signature military attack. Fitting, given that in 1947, Japan’s military had been completely disbanded by the Allies. Take a guess why. Hard to have the classic tank sequence without any tanks.

This also plays subtly into the film’s themes. Just as Shikishima is haunted by Godzilla, Japan itself is haunted by the war that spawned it. Like in said war, the Japanese government controls public information, and their misguided ideas thus once again result in pointless death and destruction. Our protagonist is unable to escape it, and the country is utterly defenseless against it.

Once again, it is through non-violence and science that Godzilla is defeated. The citizens, not the government, put together an effort to destroy the monster using the sea. At the same time, Shikishima gets a kamikaze plane ready in the hopes that he can take the kaiju out with him. When the original plan fails and he’s got to put the bomb to use, he overcomes Godzilla both literally and symbolically by ejecting, choosing to live and vanquishing his nightmare made flesh.

There’s even a Godzilla film that manages to completely screw up this core idea. Which is probably why Toho hated it so much. I am, of course, referring to Godzilla ’98.

On paper, this film follows the core concepts of Godzilla as a character. He’s still born from nuclear testing, and the movie tries to reconnect him to the idea of war through the espionage subplot. Tries being the optimal word there. In the end, the movie devolves into a pitiful Jurassic Park knock-off.

Now, there is enjoyment to be had in this movie. Namely for the people that were children when they first watched it; nostalgia is one hell of a drug, after all. But if there’s one thing everyone can agree on, it’s that the ending was a letdown. Godzilla should not have been struck dead by a single missile.

Most people hate this simply because it’s lame. The whole point of Godzilla is that he’s basically invincible, after all. And yes, that’s undeniably true. But what’s worse is that it betrays the very identity of the character. Here, violence is used to overcome violence. “Don’t worry about those old weapons,” the movie says. “Our new, stronger weapons can destroy them! Ignore how horrifying an idea it is for humanity to have power even greater than Godzilla, the living nuke!”

But if nothing else, the movie gave us a pretty kick ass cartoon. I’ll give it points for that.

Obviously not every movie explores these ideas. You’re not gonna see Minilla and a Japanese child discuss the horrors of war in All Monsters Attack. Godzilla wasn’t representing anything beyond an angry parent when he fought Space Godzilla. In the Legendary films, he’s essentially the guardian god of the Earth, and his nuclear history is more or less just backstory for him being able to shoot lasers. Watching a new Godzilla movie is like spinning a thematic roulette wheel; you never quite know what you’re gonna get.

That’s not a bad thing at all. In fact, that’s probably why the series is still around seventy years later. But no matter how many decades pass, I’m glad to see the core message of the original film, is still around in some shape or another.

Because no matter how Godzilla may change, he will always have an army of tanks uselessly shooting at him. And I, for one, will never get tired of it.