The epitome of a sympathetic post-war tragedy in a rubber lizard suit. Gojira is single-handedly one of the most important pieces of cinema out there. Few other films have tackled such a ridiculous niche of film owned by industry titan Harryhausen and made such a claustrophobic vision of intimate peril. At the heart of this film lies a sweet confection; a complicated love story.
Gojira was created by a passionate independent Japanese company named Toho. From the birth of Godzilla, they have created numerous Giant Kaiju battle films and other quirky works such as Lupin III. Who would have thought that an intelligent monster film would produce animated shows, underwear, backpacks, trading cards, and non-stop adaptations into books?
The cinematography present in the original film is a non-stop train ride of extremely misty environments alluding the melancholy score from Akira Ifukube. The original Japanese masterpiece is superior in every form to the chopped & screwed Raymond Burr American edition. Physically the same film, but ideally two separate titles. The American resembles more of what Cloverfield was with the documentation of an attack. The original was more of a portrait painted by Tokyo subjecting poor citizens to an extreme at-first unexplained terror.
Gojira was terrifying at the time of its release. While I watch it, I can feel remnants of that feeling. The generation may wither, but the poignancy of this fine piece of cinema stands strong. The original is a beautiful work. The ending is dreary and features a similar fate to the 1998 Godzilla (But that film never really happened). This film is wholly joyless and a brief memory frozen in time. Gojira is a legend and this is his Sistine Chapel.