By Alexandra Edwards

It can be hard to reconcile the Godzilla of my childhood with the searing portrait of nuclear mutation and devastation presented in the original Gojira. This was the cute and friendly monster who was given the MTV Lifetime Achievement Award by Patrick Stewart! At worst, he was a charmingly frightening throwback to movies of a bygone era — the kind of terror that made you laugh right after you screamed.

But that image has evolved over 55 years and a whole string of commercial properties. Revisiting the franchise before it was a franchise, back in 1954 when it was just one terrific monster movie among a very few, is a startling experience. There’s no trace of a monster with humanity here. There’s only an immensely anxious reaction to historical fact and a poignant critique of Japanese naval engagement.

About a decade before Gojira introduced its radiated monster, Japan was embroiled in World War II, fighting what would come to be called the Pacific War against the Allied forces of the US and Australia. Following the attack on Pearl Harbor, the Imperial Japanese Navy was routed in a series of decisive naval battles which ended with a decimated Japanese naval fleet.

The Pacific War ended when WWII ended: with the American bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  The bombings are, to this day, the only time that nuclear weapons have been actively deployed.  The effects were devastating beyond belief:

Within the first two to four months of the bombings, the acute effects killed 90,000–166,000 people in Hiroshima and 60,000–80,000 in Nagasaki, with roughly half of the deaths in each city occurring on the first day. The Hiroshima prefectural health department estimates that, of the people who died on the day of the explosion, 60% died from flash or flame burns, 30% from falling debris and 10% from other causes. During the following months, large numbers died from the effect of burns, radiation sickness, and other injuries, compounded by illness. In a US estimate of the total immediate and short term cause of death, 15–20% died from radiation sickness, 20–30% from flash burns, and 50–60% from other injuries, compounded by illness. In both cities, most of the dead were civilians. (Via Wikipedia)

Nine years later, in 1954, Ishirō Honda would play on the widespread trauma caused by the atomic bombs, as well as older primal fears, in creating Gojira.

The tension between traditional beliefs and rational science is pronounced. Dr. Yamane may conclude that a nuclear explosion created Gojira, but the islanders would tell you differently. They believe the giant sea monster has always lived off their shore, appeased in the past by the sacrifice of native girls.

It’s clear, though, that post-war Japan favors the scientific explanation. The monster, ancient or not, has suffered the effects of nuclear weapons testing in the waters off the coast; he now leaves radioactive footprints and breathes a kind of atomic fire. The natives’ ceremony, meanwhile, does nothing to keep him away.

But sheer might cannot defeat Gojira either, though the military certainly tries. After escalating attacks that seem to follow and expand the trajectory of the Pacific War — moving from solely naval engagements in the opening, to coastlines and finally, Tokyo itself — a scientist steps forward with the solution. In the end, the monster can only be killed by the very thing that created him: a scientific weapon with the power to devastate more than just its intended victim. (Notably, Dr. Serizawa’s reluctancy and his final protection of the Oxygen Destroyer mirrors and extends the later life concerns of nuclear physicists such as J. Robert Oppenheimer.)

The panic Gojira creates is both the memory and the legacy of the atomic bombs writ large. Not only do his attack scenes replay images from the bombings (terrified Japanese citizens shielding their eyes from an unnatural light and running in vain), his very existence calls into question the long-term effects of radiation and nuclear poisoning on the environment.

Whatever Gojira became in the years after his debut, nothing can erase his initial appearance as encapsulation of nuclear trauma. Perhaps more than any other monster movie (at least until Jurassic Park), Gojira plays upon deep-seeded real-world fears about scientific progress and its true human cost. ☢