‘Godzilla Minus One’ Earns Its Monster

What’s more interesting than a giant atomic reptile? People.

I kept hearing praise for Godzilla Minus One, so I finally made a point to watch it. And holy moly, it really is that good.

The Godzilla franchise never appealed to me because giant monsters simply aren’t interesting on their own. They’re formidable. They’re dangerous. And they’re so very monotonous. Their skin may be thick, but as characters, they’re paper thin. The spectacle can be fun for a bit, but before long, the monsters leave only apathy in their wake.

Fortunately, writer/director Takashi Yamazaki gives us no cause for apathy in Godzilla Minus One. Rather, he gives us people to care about—characters who show us what the threat of Godzilla actually means.

The movie takes place in the aftermath of World War II, which is an entirely appropriate setting since that’s the era that gave rise to the original 1954 Godzilla. In Godzilla Minus One, Ryunosuke Kamiki plays Kôichi Shikishima, a kamikaze pilot who survived the war. Already, that’s far more interesting than any giant monster. This young man was honor-bound to sacrifice his life for Japan, and yet he did not, so where does he go from here?

When Godzilla stomps onto an island, Shikishima takes aim at the terrifying creature … and he freezes up. Godzilla proceeds to slaughter nearly all the other men as our hero watches helplessly.

Shikishima clearly wants to live, and yet he’s wracked with survivor’s guilt and PTSD. He’s a man with something to prove. He needs to rebuild his life, but his trauma prevents him from fully embracing life, even as he develops friendships and builds himself a family of sorts.

But Godzilla could destroy it all at any time, and how can mere humans ever hope to defeat a giant atomic reptile?

The carnage is expertly crafted. Godzilla looks like a part of this world, not an oversized puppet or a refugee from a computer screen. But that wouldn’t mean much if the movie had zoomed out to focus mostly on the monster. Instead, Yamazaki zooms in on the people, because only through human eyes can we properly appreciate the threat this monster poses. The film introduces the various characters, develops them, makes them relatable—and then shows them struggling to survive the carnage. That’s the proper order of operation.

Godzilla fuses the horrors of war with the horrors of atomic weapons, and there is no more appropriate setting than Japan after World War II. The setting is so perfect that I’m not sure why we’d ever set Godzilla in any other time or place. The weight of reality anchors the fantasy, thereby enriching it.

A failed kamikaze struggling to start life anew? That can be a compelling story on its own. Add a giant atomic reptile on top of that, and then the story acquires an even more distinctive flavor.

In this world, Godzilla is the only extraordinary creature. No superheroes are coming to the rescue. Humanity alone must save itself, and that makes for a gripping conflict. As with Alien, a single great monster exudes far more menace than any horde.

This lone massive monster serves as a source of perpetual tension. It’s like Jaws, but bigger. We want to see these people prevail against the unstoppable. We especially want to see a failed kamikaze prevail against all odds. We need to see Shikishima prevail.

Monster movies can easily treat people as disposable, but by taking the time to develop the characters, this monster movie shows precisely the opposite—that no one is disposable.

Godzilla Minus One reflects upon so much death but ultimately celebrates life. It asks its flawed hero to rise to an extraordinary occasion and choose to keep living.

I never expected a Godzilla movie to be so aspirational.