Film review: Godzilla Minus One

Hello readers! I have seen a lot of films over Christmas, but one in particular stands out from the crowd. Of course, it isn’t hard to stand out from the feel-good, easy-watching Christmas classics when you’re an epic kaiju film with subtitles, set in post-war Japan. In fact, Godzilla Minus One stands out as one of the best films I watched in 2023 – and as such, I am splitting this review into two parts: a brief overview for people who might want to give it a watch, and then a longer, deeper dive into the film’s themes for people who have already watched it.

PART ONE: MINOR SPOILERS

For those who aren’t familiar, “kaiju” is a Japanese term for any media that involves very large monsters, usually attacking very large cities. The original Godzilla (1954) is widely regarded as being the first kaiju film, and Godzilla Minus One (2023) is the 37th instalment in the franchise, released to celebrate its 70th anniversary. However, this film stands alone from the rest. It has no connection with the original 1954 version, or with any of the recent American offerings (Godzilla vs. Kong, etc.), besides the inclusion of the titular monster. In short, you don’t need to have memorised any extensive kaiju lore to enjoy this film.

Based on the name alone, you probably have some idea of what to expect. It isn’t much of a spoiler for me to reveal that this film includes a big dinosaur creature causing some big dinosaur disruption. However, the destruction in this film carries much more weight than in any recent Hollywood interpretations. Emotionally, this film hits hard. You’ll feel fully invested at all times, because this is a monster film that has achieved the impossible: it actually makes us care about the human characters. In many kaiju or disaster films, the human stories become an irritating, boring, or cheesy distraction from the explosive CG-eye-candy – but in Godzilla Minus One, the characters are not only interesting and well-written, they provide the perfect context for us to really feel the destruction when it arrives. And it arrives.

Every single appearance of Godzilla is more exciting than the last. The pacing is impeccable, but the suspense never feels cheap. The tension is expertly manufactured, and the payoffs are all incredibly satisfying. I saw this film in the cinema with friends, and emotions were running high enough to elicit quiet knee-slaps, aggressive “okay” hand-signs, and even a flamboyant chef’s kiss. It is also worth mentioning that the visual effects/animation are exceptionally good – especially considering the $15 million budget.

The film’s emotional and physical punch is undoubtedly aided by it being set just after the end of WWII. Every character has a harrowing backstory, so we sympathise with them so much more when their efforts to rebuild and move on are thwarted by a stompy dinosaur. When they fight back, each hit matters. Something about using old technology to fight a giant monster makes every battle feel more grounded – because unlike in other monster movies, there is no “complicated science” (or, more often than not, “space magic”) to save the day. We understand the weaponry, and so we understand the stakes, and have a better grasp of the threat.

The film is not perfect, of course. There are a few J-drama tropes, which probably stand out more because they are slightly different to their Hollywood equivalents, but these are easily offset by amazing acting and flawless pacing. There isn’t a character in the cast that you don’t care about. In summary, I’d highly recommend that people watch this. There will be something in it for anyone who likes an action film, with added perks for foreign film connoisseurs, the Japan-obsessed, or WWII engineering buffs. It’s currently in UK cinemas, but as with many Japanese films, I can’t say for certain if, how or when it might end up on streaming services. Keep an eye out!

PART TWO: MAJOR SPOILERS

In this section, I’ll dive a bit deeper into what made this film work, and mention a few niggling complaints. I will be discussing the plot, including the ending. You have been warned!

Why the WWII setting works so well

Setting this film in the years after WWII was a genius move. At the start of the film, we see a Tokyo that has already been flattened by bombing, and people who have already lost most of their family to the war. The fact that they have lived through hell and are desperate to rebuild and move on makes it all the more harrowing when Godzilla arrives. You are constantly rooting for the characters, and never in any disaster film has the destruction felt so undeserved. The rampage of Godzilla isn’t some divine retribution for damaging the planet. It is ruthless, indiscriminate, and inexplicable – and in terms of its tone, the film often leans more towards the war genre than the disaster genre.

I’ll also return to the comment I made earlier about old technology. Using bashed up WWII weaponry to fight Godzilla really enhances the weakness of humanity in the face of this giant, incomprehensible beast. Japan has been effectively de-armed by the US, leaving it entirely vulnerable to giant monster attacks. The only way they can bring down Godzilla is by being innovative with the limited materials at their disposal, and this leads to some genuinely interesting battles. The second encounter, where our characters get Godzilla to swallow a mine, was when I became fully invested in this film. The final encounter, with a tiny fighter plane, a few dozen tanks of gas, some giant inflatables, and a fleet of fishing boats, was genius – not just for being so different and so intriguing – but because the use of the fighter plane meant that we got some amazing views of Godzilla from above.

A comparison with recent Hollywood offerings

I watched Godzilla vs. Kong on a random whim this Christmas, just days before seeing Godzilla Minus One, and the difference between the two films is staggering. Despite being about the same giant stompy lizard, they feel as if they belong to different genres.

Godzilla vs. Kong is enjoyable enough if you just want to see a big gorilla punching a big lizard, but it is painfully shallow. We are never led to believe that any humans are at risk, because we see that every coastal city has a Godzilla-proof bunker. Never do we see any people within the buildings being flattened, and never does the film ask us to consider the human cost of all this destruction. The only tension is between the two giants themselves, as they punch and kick each other in slightly different ways – and the human characters are only there to provide a feeble plot framework for the kaiju battle to resume.

Additionally, Hollywood offerings tend to personify the monsters. They end up giving Godzilla a motive, as if he only shows up to serve judgement on tech giants. Compare this to Godzilla Minus One, where a giant creature just wanders out of the sea for no real reason (maybe he just wanted to be part of our world?). The fact that he is an incomprehensible beast, with no reason or motive, makes him so much scarier. He isn’t aiming for a scientific lab. He is just sick of swimming, and is ready to stand.

Another reason that Godzilla Minus One hits harder is because the stakes are so much higher. Both films feature sea battles, and both films end up with warships being sunk. However, only in the Japanese version do we care about sinking ships – partly because we see all the people on board going down, and partly because we know that this was the last line of defence. In Godzilla vs. Kong, they seem to have infinite warships at their disposal. Nobody ever stops to mourn the dead. Compare this to Godzilla Minus One, where every death has meaning, and where every character is haunted by friends and family they have lost. Tonally, they feel like polar opposites.

The key difference between the two films is this. One is an overblown Pokémon fight with a $200 million budget. The other is a powerful allegory for the horrors of war and the endurance of human spirit.

He does look a bit silly sometimes

The visual effects and animations in this film are incredible, and you can read the artistic choices behind every shot. However – and I hate to admit this – there is only so much seriousness that can be maintained when a giant stubby-legged dinosaur comes to town. Godzilla will always walk around in a constant squat. He will always have piddly little arms. He will always have the energy of a kid who can’t tie his own shoelaces.

Unfortunately, in a gritty film exploring the meaning of guilt, grief and regeneration, the appearance of a waddling lizard with an expression that always reads “myeeeeeeggghh” can sometimes cause emotional whiplash. Sometimes, I felt as if I was watching two films at once. And I’m very glad that this film held the line with its artistic integrity, because if it had descended any further into silliness, the WWII setting and obvious nuclear bomb symbolism would have felt clumsy and insensitive. As it is, it just about gets away with it.

Some final notes on Godzilla anatomy. There is a scene where a tram car is launched several hundred metres, and I can only assume that this was thwacked by his tail, because I spent a good few minutes imagining him trying to launch it with his tiny stubby arms (poor guy won’t ever be a javelin champion). Also, I’m struggling to imagine how he moves out at sea. Everything is fine when he is swimming along with his spines above the water (looking epic and cool no matter how old you are or whether you claim to have outgrown your dinosaur obsession), but when he sits up in the water with his arms and legs exposed, I can’t help but wonder what is happening beneath. Is he like a duck in a pond – serene on the surface, but kicking like crazy underneath? Or is he like a duck in a bath – made of plastic and naturally buoyant? Again, he’s just a bit silly. And this almost detracts from the film.

For the most part, Godzilla is scary rather than silly. There is something uncanny about his animation, which makes him look even more out of place in his surroundings, and more of a threat. His eyes are truly terrifying (even if his mouth goes “myeeeegh”), and when he prepares to release his big blue heat ray attack, you quickly take back everything you said about his piddly arms.

Can we talk about blackouts

At multiple points in the film, the protagonist is hit on the head, blacks out, then wakes up later. This is a common plot device, but it is fundamentally flawed. As a teenager, I remember reading an article explaining that anyone knocked unconscious for more than a few minutes is at serious risk of brain damage or death – and since then, I can’t help but feel a spike of irritation whenever a story knocks a character unconscious for plot convenience. Anyone unconscious for more than a few minutes is in real trouble, so characters knocked out for hours on end are clearly superhuman. Maybe you can explain it away by saying that they regained consciousness while asleep, then continued to sleep, but this is rarely how films or books present it to us. At the start of Godzilla Minus One, our protagonist is dead to the world for several hours – long enough for Godzilla to wipe out everyone around him – so it really isn’t so unreasonable for him to question later on whether he had actually been dead the whole time.

Final gripe: they sank Godzilla using CFCs

Now, I love the final battle. I thought that the concept of adding bubbles to the water to reduce its density and remove Godzilla’s buoyancy was a great idea. However, I couldn’t remember exactly what “Freon” gas was, or why it rang a bell. Having left the cinema, I Googled it, and discovered that Freon is a registered trademark for a range of CFCs – the gases that are responsible for the hole in the ozone layer. Turns out that the sinking of Godzilla might have been an inadvertent environmental catastrophe.

In summary…

If you get a chance, I’d really recommend watching Godzilla Minus One. If you’re worried about subtitles, don’t let them put you off. It’s fine. Godzilla is big enough for you to see him behind the text. Trust me, this will be two hours well spent.