If you’re a hard-core Godzilla fan, you might know that this franchise began life as an allegorical take on Japan’s nuclear nightmare. Here, the radioactive creature continues that beat while also serving as a satirical foil for bureaucratic ineptitude. Shin Godzilla unleashes an old-school beatdown on Tokyo—with just a smidge of profanity along the way.
In Tokyo Bay, just off the coast of Yokohama, the Japanese Coast Guard investigates an abandoned vessel. Inside, they find an envelope addressed to the Japanese government, as well as an origami crane and a pair of neatly placed shoes.
It’s confusing. And they aren’t really sure what to make of it.
Then, the water beneath the craft begins to boil, shooting vapor hundreds of feet into the air and preventing the sailors from returning to their own boat. Beneath the surface, an underwater expressway collapses, and vehicles crash as the tunnel floods.
Consulting their disaster readiness manuals, government officials order an evacuation of the area as they investigate. They believe it’s just a geological phenomenon, perhaps a volcanic eruption of some sort.
They’re prepared to give a statement to the press, to reassure the public that nothing is wrong. But then, something comes out of the water.
“What is that?”
“A tail?”
“It’s a tail.”
Once the government gets hold of the mysterious envelope left for them, they’re given a little more information. This giant, unidentified life form is called Godzilla, meaning “God incarnate.” The dumping of toxic nuclear waste mutated the once-benign creature. And now, it’s coming for the ones who inadvertently created it.
Dealing with a previously undetected volcano is one thing. Dealing with a semi-aquatic, fire-breathing, impenetrable being? Well, let’s just say they don’t have a disaster-readiness manual for this one.
Rando Yaguchi is a minor politician who aspires to become Prime Minister of Japan within the next decade or so. He recognizes the threat Godzilla poses and urges his elders not to underestimate the creature. They don’t exactly listen; however, Yaguchi doesn’t let their deaf ears deter him. He takes a huge career risk to save Japan, forming a task force to address Godzilla in nonlethal ways.
Yaguchi is aided by Kayoco Ann Patterson, a Japanese-American representative of the United States with her own illustrious political ambitions. Like Yaguchi, she’s one of the few who takes Gozilla seriously. She sees that its extermination, capture or expulsion could have ramifications worldwide. So similarly, she risks her professional standing in order to save her grandmother’s homeland.
Shin Godzilla serves as a satirical commentary on political bureaucracy. At one point, someone gets frustrated that he cannot do anything to address Godzilla—not even evacuate citizens in the beast’s path of destruction—without someone else signing off on it: “So much red tape. Every action requires a meeting.” His superior responds, “That’s the foundation of democracy.”
That said, the government of Japan isn’t tying itself in red tape on purpose. The politicians involved are invested in the protection of their people. They aren’t acting selfishly—they just simply don’t know what the right course of action is. Political leaders don’t want to cause undue panic. And they (perhaps naively) believe that their bureaucratic system will somehow provide the answer.
But in response to that political standstill, Yaguchi’s task force steps up. It’s members realize that if they treat this as a game—keeping their cards (information about Godzilla) held close and allowing egos to dictate their actions—that the people of Japan will suffer. Instead, they set aside personal (and professional) ambitions; share their data with scientists and experts worldwide; and work ceaselessly to find a solution.
Their camaraderie is inspiring, even to each other. And in the end, their willingness to share information, to cooperate and to collaborate with other governments is what saves Japan from total annihilation.
Quite admirably, the prime minister cancels an assured military strike against Godzilla after learning that there are civilians in the area of attack. A few characters risk their lives to save others. It seems that one man’s actions may have been a test to encourage the people of Japan to change their bureaucratic ways.
Godzilla, as already mentioned, means “God incarnate.” Some protestors take this quite seriously, advocating to save the beast because they believe it is a god. Scientists often compare it to a god, too. Many characters believe that Godzilla is even more evolved and intelligent than human beings. And it’s not hard to understand why:
We learn that Godzilla has the ability to self-mutate or evolve at will (in addition to many other physical abilities described below). Indeed, we watch as it transforms from an armless, slithering aquatic creature into a walking, dinosaur-like beast with claws and the aforementioned firepower. And it also figures out how to self-propagate, shedding bits of itself throughout Tokyo that will eventually evolve into more Godzillas.
It can be noted that all of these mutated powers come courtesy of Godzilla’s nuclear-waste diet.
At one point, Yaguchi folds his hands in prayer. Later, he tells troops, “Godspeed,” just before a dangerous mission. Someone earnestly says, “Thank God.”
Some men suggest that Patterson might be Yaguchi’s “type.” And sure enough, we see the pair flirting a bit. Elsewhere, someone uses a euphemism for male genitals.
Godzilla’s skin is practically impenetrable and hot enough to boil the ocean. The beast breathes fire, which eventually turns into a high-powered laser. From that point, Godzilla figures out how to fire lasers from its dorsal fins and tail, too.
Godzilla unleashes quite a bit of death and destruction in this film. However, we don’t really see any deaths occur onscreen: A building is knocked over with a family stuck inside. Several vehicles carrying passengers are blown up, too. But that’s about the extent of it.
Of course, just because we don’t see death occurring directly doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. Godzilla claims the lives of many, many people during its land tour. It completely wipes out several districts in Tokyo (which is depicted all too clearly), rendering millions more homeless. Godzilla uses its laser-beam powers to kill hundreds, if not thousands of soldiers sent to destroy it. And it leaves a trail of radioactive material in its wake.
Humans do try to fight back. In a series of coordinated attacks, military personnel crash trains into the beast, fire guns and missiles, blow up nearby buildings and even drop some bombs on it.
People flee the horrifying creature, often screaming in fear. We do see a few people post-destruction sporting cuts and bruises. A bleeding Yaguchi is told to seek medical assistance, but he’s informed that they won’t be able to do anything for him since there’s a shortage of bandages.
Government officials invoke the Japan-U.S. Security Treaty to receive military aid. However, they’re appalled when they learn that the nuclear bombs proposed by their allies would cause even more damage than Godzilla already has.
Not to mention the fact that nobody in Japan really wants to use nuclear power against the beast. Some are old enough to remember what it was like rebuilding their country after nuclear bombs decimated them during World War II. Others, like Patterson, weren’t born yet, but they don’t want to see the country of their ancestors destroyed by nuclear power ever again.
Which actually brings us back to the political bureaucracy commentary I mentioned earlier. Once the rest of the world realizes how powerful Godzilla is—particularly that it plans to multiply itself and potentially expand its territory—the people of Japan become pawns in political schemes. Essentially, government officials are given a timeline to evacuate their people before nuclear fallout. And it’s not up to the people of Japan. It’s not even up to the Prime Minister. Either he can evacuate his people within that time frame and save as many as he can, or he can refuse, and they’ll be bombed anyway. That’s all in the name of saving the rest of the world.
Most of the dialogue here is spoken in Japanese, with English subtitles. But the profanities we can identify in English include “bull,” “d–n” and “h—.” Some people are called “pains in the bureaucracy.”
None.
We learn a man’s wife died of radiation sickness as a result of Japan’s nuclear waste disposal. When he made a stink about it, he was reportedly run out of the country.
The U.S., sadly, is not painted in a positive light, here. The Americans knew about Godzilla long before Japan did. And they discovered that Godzilla might host a new element that could provide limitless energy. But instead of alerting Japan to the potential dangers of the creature, they choose to use the information to their own political advantage. Then, to hide U.S. involvement, American government representatives urge the United Nations to push for nuclear extermination of Godzilla, forcing Japan to sacrifice itself in order to save the world.
As previously mentioned, the political bureaucracy portrayed here is meant to be satirical. But it feels disappointingly realistic to watch as politicians bicker over whose department is in charge of what, which regulations permit which actions and end meetings with no resolutions other than to have more meetings.
Although most people eventually rally to protect Japan from Godzilla, many are initially skeptical, more protective of their careers than their people.
Characters sometimes lie or withhold information. At one point, Yaguchi’s team encourages him to shower, informing him that he is beginning to smell.
I don’t know if you can have a Godzilla movie without a lot of chaos and carnage. And Shin Godzilla (which was originally released in 2016) is certainly no exception. Buildings are toppled, missiles are fired, and lives are lost.
However, for a movie about an indestructible, destructive creature, it doesn’t really focus on that at all.
Rather, this film seems to hone in on its satirical message, mocking how politicians often spend so long debating what to do, that they no longer have time to actually do anything. Yaguchi comments on this directly after someone points out how much destruction Godzilla caused in just two hours. No, he says, look at how little we accomplished in just two hours.
But Shin Godzilla also leaves viewers with a feeling of hope: Rather than continuing to bicker and debate, Yaguchi’s team members get to work. They put aside selfish ambitions and instead focus on finding a solution. They break bureaucratic rules, push past political boundaries and risk life and livelihood to protect their people and their country.
Again though, this is a Godzilla movie.
This Japanese sci-fi franchise was built on tokusatsu, a type of live-action filming that uses “suitmation” (actors wearing monster suits) and miniature sets to create larger-than-life special effects. And director Hideaki Anno pays homage to Godzilla’s origins by using it here.
As such, the destruction we witness isn’t particularly gruesome. Indeed, most of the loss of life occurs offscreen. However, it is present, and probably just a little too scary for younger viewers—especially since Godzilla itself isn’t exactly a warm and fuzzy creature.
A couple of mild profanities work their way into the mix, too. The political satire takes more than a few jabs at the United States, in particular. And there’s an underlying message about humanity, how what we do to each other (in this case, the nuclear bombs) can often be even more frightening than a monstrous creature such as Godzilla.
Those elements in Shin Godzilla might give some families pause. But others might find a think piece worth discussing with older teens and adults. There are lessons here about camaraderie, self-sacrifice and humility. And if you’ve ever had to work your way through a poorly written disaster-readiness manual, you might even find some humor here, too.
Emily studied film and writing when she was in college. And when she isn’t being way too competitive while playing board games, she enjoys food, sleep, and geeking out with her husband indulging in their “nerdoms,” which is the collective fan cultures of everything they love, such as Star Wars, Star Trek, Stargate and Lord of the Rings.
