Shin Godzilla 12A

‘A God Incarnate. A City Doomed’

Where the original Godzilla was conceived as a metaphor for the horrors of nuclear testing, Shin Godzilla is often read as an analogue to governmental failure during the 2011 Fukushima Disaster and the Touhoku earthquake.

There’s a scene in Godzilla (1954) that depicts a choir of schoolchildren singing in the wake of a recent Godzilla attack. It’s a heartbreaking and haunting scene that contextualises the effects this devastating experience would have on real people. In Shin Godzilla (2016), that dedication to humanity is notably and intentionally absent. The public have little screentime and the focus, when not on the horrifying monster wreaking havoc through Tokyo, is on the bureaucrats and suits elected to serve them. They’re incompetent, old-fashioned, ambivalent, and so absorbed in procedure and protocol they’re unable to offer little in the way of service or aid.

The gruesome new design of the titular titan sees him more monstrous than ever. He shambles grotesquely through building blocks, mindlessly dealing untold destruction and death. His lidless eyes are uncannily familiar but devoid of anything recognisably human. He’s a threat that feels at once known and unknown.

Takashi Yamazaki, the director of last year’s Godzilla: Minus One described the difference between Godzilla of the west and of the east: "The point of international Godzilla is that he's a really powerful monster, but a Japanese Godzilla is halfway a godlike creature in many ways.’ A sentiment that feels particularly apt in this entry, where disaster and government are so deeply intertwined and where reason is conspicuously impotent in the face of ruin.

Showing as part of KaiJuly, a season of films celebrating Japan’s giant monsters, to coincide with the 70th anniversary of Godzilla. Purchase our season pass to access all of the films in our KaiJuly season for just £25.