In the wake of the second world war and with the entry into what would come to be known as the “nuclear age”, the world knew that nothing would be the same in the second half of the 20th century. Arguably, nobody felt the dawn of the nuclear age greater than Japan following the devastation and chaos caused by the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings. First-hand accounts of the bombings were frightening; people screaming, fleeing, desperate to find cover, while a blinding light and a sudden blazing heat suddenly filled the air, followed swiftly by an ominous roar, a steady rumble would follow, drowning out the air raid sirens as an enormous mushroom cloud engulfs the skyline, and pretty soon nothing is left in its ever-expanding wake. For those who survived the events, it was as if their world had ended; there was nothing left but despair, hopelessness, and loss (and quite possibly, death by radiation poisoning). The world was in shock as this new era made its turbulent debut. It was as if mankind had created a monster, as if this bomb was rage incarnate, seeking revenge against mankind for meddling with science and to send us back to our natural state as punishment (ironically created by us).
For Ishiro Honda and Tomoyuki Tanaka, this analogy set the stage perfectly for a cautionary tale on the subject of nuclear technology. After the end of World War II, Mr. Tanaka and Honda witnessed the devastation left behind by the bombings and this encounter with oblivion changed their lives forever. In 1953, Mr. Honda in particular was inspired by the American science fiction film entitled The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms, which depicted a prehistoric beast attacking New York City after having been rudely awaken from ice-induced suspended animation in the arctic by none other than an atomic bomb. Ishiro Honda felt that a story like this would be perfect for a film set in Japan, as the Japanese understand what is brought about by the misuse of nuclear technology. After several incarnations, eventually Gojira was born. The difference with Honda and Tanaka’s monster is that he (it?) essentially embodies the bomb itself, rather than something incidental. It is not clearly defined how “Gojira” comes to be in this film. There is a detailed explanation; that he is a prehistoric dinosaur-like creature that has been resurrected by atomic bomb tests conducted off the coast of Bikini Atoll in the Pacific. However, it is implied that this is merely the educated guess of Dr. Kyohei Yamane, the film’s paleontologist. There is a scene early in the film that depicts an ancient ceremony being performed on Odo island in response to a recent typhoon in the area, hoping to appease an ancient sea-dragon god known as “Gojira”. This ceremony had been performed in past centuries on Odo island for the sole purpose of offering sacrifices to the ancient dragon in order to spare their island village. This scene potentially implies that this monster, or possibly others of his kind have surfaced before and that despite Dr. Yamane’s statement that “Gojira is something that no one in the world has ever seen” (Gojira 1954, 52:30), that Gojira is, in fact, quite familiar with the human race. If this possibility is to be accepted, then one could surmise that Gojira’s most recent attack, as depicted in the film, could be retaliation by a fiercely territorial animal for the use of nuclear weapons on its turf, and not just for having been awakened by it. Seeing a giant monster tearing one’s home city apart definitely resonated with audiences at the time, but especially in Japan, where seeing their monster destroy Hibia, Tokyo, leaving destruction not unlike Hiroshima or Nagasaki in his wake, was most definitely an unforgettable moment in the history of Japanese cinema. Most “giant monster invasion” (known is Japan as “daikaiju”) films began after the introduction of the atomic bomb, which essentially means that this entire subgenre of science fiction was brought about in response to it. The 1933 film King Kong, while certainly involving a somewhat large beast set loose in a city, is not necessarily amongst films of this genre, as it is a response to an earlier “jungle movie” craze that was brought about by Tarzan films and a worldwide ape fascination (due to the fact that apes were not yet commonly featured in zoos). It is also important to note that the ape in King Kong is not the engine of humanity’s demise and is not nearly large enough to cause citywide damage (he climbs the empire state building instead of plowing through it). Kong is simply a curiosity, a survivor from the ancient world who represents adventure, uncharted islands and the unknown. Despite these facts, many people lump King Kong and Godzilla (the famous anglicised title for Gojira) together as belonging to the same genre, when in fact this new breed of giant monster came about in the wake of the bombings of 1945. One will know if they are seeing a “daikaiju” film if the creature is capable of erasing all traces of mankind’s existence and the message of the film is preaching against “playing god” or meddling in the affairs of science beyond our understanding, etc.
While Gojira itself has many memorable moments throughout the film, perhaps the most striking and iconic scene in the entire film occurs from 54:18 to 59:33 (if you are seeing the original, Japanese version) when Gojira himself emerges from the sea, making his full-body debut, and proceeds to attack the Hibia district of Tokyo. This scene is so iconic that it was featured on movie posters and countless still images from the film. It is a haunting spectacle to be sure; people running and screaming, sirens wailing, small artillery and howitzers blazing, Gojira letting out his iconic, thunderous roar, blasting the city with his signature gamma-breath which is so hot it can melt steel (as well as people), buildings are reduced to rubble, tanks and jeeps are laid to waste, fire and smoke fill the sky, leaving nothing but ash and cinders in the monster’s wake. The resemblance to Hiroshima and Nagasaki is unmistakable, making the entire sequence more than a little unsettling when keeping this analogy in mind. It was for this very reason that Gojira was not immediately embraced by the Japanese public when it was initially released. For Japanese moviegoers, even though the devastation depicted in this scene pales in comparison to the very real devastation left behind by the atomic bombings, it still made audiences in Japan squirm in their seats, not being able to shake the uncanny feeling that they’ve been here before. This contributed to the scene becoming one of the most memorable moments in Japanese cinematic history. While none of the major characters are featured in the five minute scene described above, and there is no dialogue outside of the panicked radio chatter of desperate military personnel, the events of this scene speak louder than Gojira’s roar. The message is clear: this is the nuclear age, this is our future.
One can determine that this scene is showing the audience what humanity will face if nothing is done to stop this creature. In a typical B-movie, the structure is as follows: there is rising action, where the science behind the imminent problem is explained and the tension rises, there is a revelation of the monster, which is followed by a display of the monster’s power to show the audience what is at stake, any chance of defeating the monster almost always requires a terrible sacrifice where lessons are learned in order to drive the point home to the viewer (this usually comes in the form of an iconic line to sum up the moral of the story). The emergence scene is this very archetype being played out; where the monster gets his chance to display his power in order to make the climax complete, thus driving the message home. At this point, the creature had just been revealed in that his existence had been confirmed and parts of him had been displayed from time to time. However, this “display of power” sequence also serves as the final exclamation point to the “revelation” phase of the monster’s role in the story, because the audience finally gets to see the creature in his full glory. Referring back to the atomic bomb analogy, seeing people on the streets burned to a crisp by Gojira’s radioactive blasts adds to the sense of hopelessness being felt by the victims. The scene poses the question of what one could possibly do to escape the wrath of something so immensely powerful and seemingly invincible, a demon that kills without remorse and sees humanity as vermin to be exterminated.
Stylistically, one can appreciate the visual elements of the film, which create a delightfully eerie atmosphere especially considering the fact that the creature only seems to appear at night. The nature in which this scene is filmed is one of the contributing factors to its success, putting it ahead of its counterparts of the genre at the time. There are reasons why we still know the name “Godzilla” to this day, while few still remember The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms, and it isn’t simply because Gojira has a catchier title. Given that this is a black and white film, the filmmakers had to take full advantage of contrast and sharpness to make this scene effective. The attack happens at night, giving the water a blackish hue, almost the same shade as the sky in the horizon, causing the two to merge in such a way that the creature appears to be materialising out of the depths of hell itself as he rises from the sea like some sort of lovecraftian horror. The only major source of light are the searchlights that can only illuminate mere parts of the creature at a time. The monster himself is cleverly distorted and left somewhat ambiguous by the low lighting, making the famous Gojira suit somewhat more believable as an organic creature. The brightest lights come from Gojira’s dorsal plates, which glow ghostly white as he readies his gamma-breath, which in turn appears as a hazy grayish-white beam. As he fires his death-breath for the first time, the viewer can see the steel frames of nearby electrical towers glowing white, which is a great way to make use of black and white to show just how hot the steel is in that moment as it slowly loses its form and collapses. The camera takes advantage of strategic angles which create the proper sense of scale; in some shots, the camera rests closer to the fleeing city dwellers who appear to be dwarfed by the monster as they are closer to the camera, while Gojira towers over the horizon while appearing to be dangerously close to the crowd. It is wonderful use of forced-perspective. After showing off the size of the creature, the filmmakers show how small and vulnerable the people of Tokyo are by using higher camera angles mixed with crumbling scale models of surrounding buildings, making the crowd in the shot seem tiny and insignificant as one of Gojira’s oral death rays sweeps the shot and incinerates them all. While this is effective in making the creature stand-out, it is also this element that emphasises the monsters role as the living embodiment of the atomic bomb (which gives off a blinding flash of light when it strikes). The editing from shot to shot is masterfully blended together and aside from obvious cuts away from the action and onto the monster alone, the entire sequence blends rather seamlessly. The editing is somewhat discontinuous, but it is discontinuous for good reason; the increasingly quick cuts from shot to shot tell the audience that chaos has fully ensued and that there is a lot happening in that moment. The sound effects drive the sequence just as much as the visuals, despite the absence of dialogue. Prior to the emergence of the monster, there is a bulletin being issued over the radio, stating that Gojira had been sighted off the coast, headed for the Tokyo bay area. Although the bulletin is not included in the time-frame for the scene I chose, it does help explain why the military generally knew where to intercept the monster and set up their barricades. As Gojira emerges and makes his approach, he seems to be taking his time, savoring the calamity to come, and the musical score reflects that very effectively, beginning with calm, low, lumbering notes that reflect the body language of Gojira. The music goes silent during the initial encounter, but when Gojira breaks through the protective barrier of electric towers and power lines, all hell breaks loose and “Gojira’s theme” can be heard throughout the remainder of the scene, making the situation seem all the more dire for the people trying to escape. His roar is one of the finest achievements of the filmmakers, a tremendous, booming, bellowing call that vaguely resembles a metallic grinding sound, a bear, and a rushing ocean with a slight hint of whale (but in reality it was just a leather glove being raked across a bass string). Creating a new sound effect from scratch was, cheap, easy and ingenious, as it so convincingly sounds like a creature so foreign that no known animal can measure up to it. This is very effective for the purposes of the story, as it adds to the sense of the unknown nature of Gojira. The use of air raid sirens once again brings us back to Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The gunfire, the crackling of giant flames, the crumbling of buildings and the screams of dying citizens all contribute to the effectiveness of the scene, making the nuclear analogy abundantly clear. The sound mixing of this sequence is perhaps the most memorable, making it just as essential to the story as the visual aspect.
While Gojira is an entertaining film in any context, understanding the full impact of its presentation in the context of the world in which we were living in 1954 makes this an important film at that. It could easily be said that this film belongs in the archives of any hall of fame for great pieces of 20th century art. All elements that were put into making this film work very well in tandem with one another in a way that can only result in greatness. The lighting was obviously well thought-out, while the editing and cinematography create the sense of scale and magnitude which made the monster so intimidating, blocking one’s view of the sky, not unlike an ever-expanding mushroom cloud. The fact that this film was shot in black and white is a product of the time in which it was filmed, but one cannot shake the suspicion that the contrast used in the film was meant to directly resemble footage and images of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in some way. Regardless, this film compliments its proposed analogy quite well as it takes the rather outlandish scenario of “monster meets city” and makes something truly gritty, striking, and unforgettable out of it.
Reference List:
Gojira 1954, Feature film, Toho Studios, Tokyo, Japan.
Film Art
The film Gojira begins with the destruction of a fishing vessel, and of another ship that meets an equally mysterious fate after setting sail to search for the missing fishing vessel. In both instances, a strange glowing light could be seen coming from beneath the ocean waves, as if something alive were responsible. On the nearby Odo island, villagers are performing a dance, hoping to appease a sea dragon of the ancient world known as “Gojira”. One village elder recalls a time when young maidens were offered as tribute in order to avoid the monster’s wrath. A typhoon hits the following night, which tears the village apart, but something was mysteriously concealed within the storm, could it have been the handiwork of this “Gojira”? Following the wake of the disaster, Paleontologist Dr. Kyohei Yamane arrives on Odo Island in response to eye witness reports of a mysterious creature. When he arrives, he finds massive footprints in the sand which give off a significant Geiger reading. Dr. Yamane also finds a living crustacean belonging to a species thought to be extinct. During Dr. Yamane’s stay, villagers encounter the creature who made the footprints and it appears to resemble a previously undiscovered species of dinosaur (which should not be alive either). Yamane jumps to the conclusion (rather unscientifically, I might add) that this creature’s sudden appearance coinciding with recent atomic bomb tests is no coincidence at all. As he presents his photographic evidence to the Japanese government, a discussion is held over how the nation should respond to this discovery. After voting that they should release this knowledge to the public, ships are sent out to kill the monster, fearing that it may do to Tokyo what it did to Odo Island. The attempts of the Japanese navy to kill the creature prove fruitless, and the creature eventually attacks Tokyo Bay in retaliation (perhaps after following boats ashore). Fearing that Gojira may be back for “round 2”, the military decides to fortify the city as much as possible, even arranging to set up giant electric towers connected by wires in order to protect civilians. That very night, Gojira returns to terrorize the city once again, tearing through the electrical wires with ease and melting the towers with his breath. There are hundreds of casualties and the military seems to have no affect on the monster. Even the airforce fails to leave a mark. Gojira returns to the sea, after presumably losing interest in Tokyo. Later on, a certain Dr. Daisuke Serizawa (who is caught in a love triangle with Emiko, Dr. Yamane’s daughter and Hideto Ogata, her other love interest) proposes a solution to the problem in the form of the “oxygen destroyer”, a device that depletes oxygen atoms in living things, ultimately resulting in disintegration and eventual collapse. It also just so happens that this oxygen destroyer doubles as a renewable source of energy. Regardless, Dr. Serizawa makes Emiko swear to keep the details of his device a secret. But after revealing this information to Ogata, Serizawa quickly learns that the secret is out. When the time comes to use his device on the sleeping Gojira in the depths below, Serizawa decides to go down with the monster, thus ensuring his work dies with the two of them and that nobody will have the opportunity to misuse this technology. The monster is seemingly killed, Emiko and Ogata mourn the death of their close friend, Dr. Serizawa, and Dr. Yamane delivers the take-away message: that if mankind continues to experiment with nuclear technology, either Gojira could return, or another Gojira will be created in the process. Credits roll, fade to black.
