Editorials
Looking Back on the Evolution of Godzilla Through the Decades
I’ve been a Godzilla fan for as long as I can remember, with my childhood fascination with the radioactive reptile likely stemming from the 1998 animated series which served as a sequel to the first American remake. From there, I soon begged my parents to feed me with whatever Godzilla-related media they could find. As a teenager, I became a little more selective in my enjoyment of movies featuring the King of the Monsters, gravitating towards the horror aspects of the original and a handful of its successors. As a grown man, however, I have no shame in admitting that I frequently rewatch the cheesiest of these flicks while rooting for the monsters as if they were professional wrestlers in rubber suits.
That’s why I don’t say it lightly when I claim that I’m not aware of any other movie monster (or franchise, for that matter) as versatile as this one. I mean, a brutal throwback to the original film (in Godzilla Minus One) is currently co-existing with a physical incarnation of the planet’s immune system (in Legendary’s Monarch: A Legacy of Monsters), and that’s why I think this is the perfect time to look back on the many faces of Godzilla and dive into how a fire-breathing dinosaur can mean so many things to so many different people.
Everyone and their mother is aware that Ishirō Honda’s 1954 Godzilla was more than a simple creature, with the film exploring the aftermath of the atomic bomb and the social climate of post-war Japan. After all, details like the titular monster’s keloid-scar-inspired skin texture and the inclusion of imagery meant to harken back to the fire-bombing of Tokyo remind the viewer that this movie was produced less than a decade after the end of World War II. But how could such a horrific monster movie spawn worldwide toy-lines and one of the most prolific franchises of all time?
Well, the runaway success of the original Godzilla (and its infamous American re-edit) quickly led to a sequel. And while Godzilla Raids Again didn’t necessarily turn the giant dinosaur into a hero, it did create another kaiju for him to fight, giving audiences a chance to root for their favorite monster in a decidedly less controversial adventure. That was all it took for Godzilla to become an institution, with future sequels expanding his rogue’s gallery and turning him into a more marketable King of the Monsters by becoming the lesser evil among his foes.
Here comes a new challenger!
As time went on and the character became more popular overseas, we saw a gradual shift in the depiction of Godzilla as popular culture turned him into something akin to a Japanese national hero. It was only in the Heisei era that we’d begin to see more nuanced takes on the monster, like in 1984’s reboot The Return of Godzilla. Marketed as a return to form for the franchise, Return is a direct sequel to Honda’s original film, making the radioactive dinosaur a proper villain as he wreaks nuclear havoc in the midst of the Cold War.
This reinvention would be more popular than many of the kid-friendly sequels of the latter-day Shōwa era, but Toho would soon make Godzilla a protagonist again in a series of sequels that combined the joy of multiple monstrous antagonists with the reboot’s darker edge. This new continuity culminated in 1995’s Godzilla vs Destoroyah, which saw our radioactive anti-hero undergo a nuclear meltdown which endangered the entire planet – all the while fighting against his deadliest foe yet.
Funnily enough, when it came time to finally produce the long-gestating American reboot of the character, Hollywood decided to go back to basics and tell a surprisingly simple kaiju story where Godzilla would be the only threat. However, instead of engaging with the monster’s controversial atomic history, Roland Emmerich’s 1997 remake depicts the creature as more of a confused animal (literally a radiated iguana) than a vengeful force of nature – with the final moments even making us sympathize with a being that had no fault in its creation.
Meanwhile, Toho would once again experiment with multiple conflicting takes their biggest IP, with the ensuing Millennium Era featuring the character as everything from a monster-fighting hero to a stand-in for natural disasters in the span of five short years. I’d argue that the most notable (and spooky) of these incarnations was Godzilla: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack, where Mothra and a new, friendly version of Ghidorah team up to face a villainous Godzilla possessed by the spirits of those killed by the Japanese during the Pacific theater of World War II.
After the middling reception of 2004’s Final Wars (a throwback to the costumed wrestling days of 1970s Godzilla flicks), Toho would retire Godzilla for over a decade, with the character only really making a resurgence in 2014 with his second American Reboot. In Gareth Edwards’ re-imagining, which is now the definitive version of the monster in Legendary’s Monsterverse, Godzilla is described as a radiation-consuming embodiment of earth’s natural balance, a neutral guardian of sorts that doesn’t necessarily involve himself in human affairs (despite apparently having been worshipped by the people of Atlantis, as we saw in the 2019 sequel).
A worthy addition to the franchise.
The success of this reboot led Toho to reconsider Godzilla’s retirement, with the studio recruiting Evangelion creator Hideaki Anno and his co-writer Shinji Higuchi to re-imagine the character for modern-day audiences. The result of this bizarre experiment was my personal favorite incarnation of the monster in 2016’s Shin Godzilla, where the constantly-evolving antagonist became an allegory for the dangers of Nuclear power in the wake of 2011’s Fukushima disaster. And while I’ve already written about the merits of this Lovecraftian reboot, I also think that the film’s final lines about the monster being something that we must learn to live with rather than destroy also apply to franchise moviemaking as a whole.
Since then, Toho has also partnered with animation studios in two separate anime projects – one of them a trilogy of feature-length specials re-characterizing the monster as god-like threat that reshapes the earth itself into its image and the other a 13-episode series that incorporates hard sci-fi into the monster’s origins. While neither of these were massive hits, it’s nice to know that creators can still come up with novel spins on Godzilla nearly 70 years down the line.
However, it’s important for Toho not to lose sight of the monster’s gloomy origins, and that’s why Takashi Yamazaki’s Godzilla Minus One appears to be a retro treat for fans of serious monster movies. And while I haven’t yet had the pleasure of checking it out, I think there’s something special about a Godzilla flick going back in time to the context that originally inspired the character. Plus, it looks like it would make for one hell of a double-feature with Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer!
At the end of the day, the best part about getting into Godzilla movies is that there’s something in this franchise for everyone. From serious ruminations on the consequences of nuclear war to family-friendly creature features, the series has no problem with re-inventing itself for new audiences. And when your favorite movie monster can effortlessly glide between genres and themes in order to keep itself relevant, I think it’s safe to say that the future looks bright for Godzilla fans.
‘Shin Godzilla’
In this day and age, the word “troll” is often used to describe various online nuisances. Yet as abundant and irksome as the modern troll can be, they aren’t usually as fearsome as their mythological counterparts. I’m not talking about the small and gentler versions that have become more common to see in media. No, there are much bigger and scarier trolls out there—and André Øvredal’s movie Troll Hunter is one of the best places to find them.
It doesn’t take long for Troll Hunter (or Trolljegeren) to dump the Blair Witch Project-esque setup and aim for something a lot fresher. The trajectory of the story is augmented by Otto Jespersen’s character Hans, the titular Troll Hunter. The second he comes barreling out of the deep, dark woods and shouts “troll” at the camera, this movie takes a turn into what feels like uncharted territory. Not only subject-wise, but also conceptually.
For fantastical and made-up subject matter in cinema, found footage is a fast way to add a guise of believability. After all, what we accept to be the most crucial aspect of documentaries—the truth—rubs off on pseudo-documentaries, despite our understanding of the pretense involved. That is what Øvredal delivered with Troll Hunter: a movie so convincing that some viewers wondered if trolls really do exist. So, had this been straightforwardly made, it likely wouldn’t have been as effective. Conventional narratives would be more inclined to treat something like trolls as flat out unreal, and never try to convince the audience to think otherwise.
Hans petrifies the three-headed Tusseladd troll.
The viewers, like the characters trailing Hans, are quickly thrown into the deeper end of that extraordinary story. They have to process all this new information while staying on the go. So, although there is no significant amount of meandering, narratively or physically, there is still a good amount of atmosphere, not to mention tension building. It’s never anything frightful, but then again, Troll Hunter isn’t your standard offering of horror; it’s more on the low end of the dark fantasy spectrum. We aren’t ever spirited away to a faraway world—we stay in rather familiar surroundings, as well as dip into those less so. The outcome is a movie where you’re constantly more in awe than in terror.
As fantasy fiction might do, Troll Hunter prefers not to deal with incredulity. There is no time to waste on doubt, as interviewer Thomas (Glenn Erland Tosterud), soundperson Johanna (Johanna Mørck), and cameraman Kalle (Tomas Alf Larsen) all follow Hans around, recording whatever this character is willing to reveal about his bizarre job. Of course, the Troll Hunter himself is not an open book; in that respect, the diegetic documentary fails to fully capture and unpack the more interesting of its two subjects. Yes, all those giant, monstrous trolls are indeed incredible, but understandably, your mind wanders to their pursuer. What kind of person signs up for this gig and then chooses to stick with it for so long?
Reviews have called out Troll Hunter for its lack of character development. In regard to Thomas and his fellow documentarians, that criticism is valid, but bear in mind, they aren’t the focus of the story, either. Meanwhile, Hans is a well-crafted character. At least better than first realized. Before he was introduced, Hans had already grown tired of the troll grind. Fed up with that low compensation for his services, resentful of the bureaucracy, and wanting to expose his employer on a large scale, Hans’ discontent is glaring.
Then there are those finer details about the Troll Hunter, such as that indifference to both the natural splendor of his everyday surroundings and the affections of an obviously smitten colleague, that also suggest some level of despondency. So it is fair to say this movie doesn’t feature any sizable growth for its characters; however, the namesake isn’t underwritten. No doubt, putting a real-life character like Otto Jespersen in that role is partly why Hans is so fascinating—maybe even relatable.
Otto Jespersen as Hans the Troll Hunter.
There is always a small risk whenever using the term “mockumentary” to describe a found-footage movie, as the word could imply humor where there is none. In the case of Troll Hunter, the term’s usage is appropriate. Some folks have claimed the English-dubbed version has the more comedic tone, however, the Norwegian cut isn’t exactly humorless. Apart from the trolls’ absurd appearances, this is a movie where the characters nearly choke on the monsters’ farts, and Christians are like walking targets. Hans’ complete apathy towards everything is another cause of laughter. Overall, the comedy is intentionally dry and inconsistent. Unfunny, though? Absolutely not.
In a movie where endemic creatures are maltreated, as well as disavowed from living freely and peacefully, it’s hard not to notice the ecological message buried beneath the story. In addition to that is the unmistakable political satire. There is this whole business about intrusive and unsightly power lines—like trolls, they’re big blemishes on the land—that leads to what is perhaps the movie’s funniest moment. The scene in question is that one where certain electric lines, the ones secretly being used to keep the trolls at bay, go in a loop and don’t actually send power to any residents. Yet the monitors of said lines don’t find this at all weird. So it stands to reason that Øvredal was having a go at those who accept the government’s doings without question.
Looking past the fact that trolls aren’t actually real, this movie is an enlightening source of information. And not just for international audiences; Norwegians, too, get schooled about their homeland’s own mythology. It’s also evident from everything on screen that Øvredal and his crew were enthusiastic about the topic. The creature designs are the most indicative of that zeal; those imaginative yet myth-accurate manifestations are equally amusing and grotesque. One second you’re laughing at their phallic noses, the next you’re white-knuckling during a hairy sequence. Most surprisingly is how well the trolls’ visual effects hold up after fifteen years. It’s not all spotless, but on the whole, they remain impressive.
Vouching for a mockumentary about trolls isn’t easy, but those who do come around and give it a shot will more than likely be grateful for the recommendation. For Troll Hunter is a real find in that vast and varied genre we call “found footage“.
A bridge troll reaches up for food and finds Hans decked out in armor.
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