Godzilla: From Nuclear Trauma to Emotionally Recovering in the Colosseum

This column is a reprint from Unwinnable Monthly #176. If you like what you see, grab the magazine for less than ten dollars, or subscribe and get all future magazines for half price.

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Thoughts about being something else.

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The Colosseum really is perfect. Round. Gigantic. It’s the perfect spot for Godzilla to curl up inside for a nap. There’s much in the human world that just doesn’t fit him. He doesn’t actually mean to step on their buildings (most of the time). They’re just . . . there. In his way. But here, finally, is something that actually fits him. A rare comfort.

He gets to do this twice. At the start and closing of Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire, like perfect bookends. A post on Fandango’s Instagram says the idea for that came from Mischief – director Adam Wingard’s cat – curled up in her bed. Inspired. It’s the sort of warmth Godzilla can use after everything he’s been through.

Godzilla is one of those characters that inspires my immediate affection. I’ve known him since childhood. And I just enjoy reptilian monsters. They have such a cool look. Any bad press they get invites me to look at them closer and decide they don’t deserve it. There can be so much more to them. And Godzilla is essentially one of the most significant reptilian characters out there.

So, I was hyped for the new movie in 2014. And like many, I thought it was just going to be Godzilla vs. Humans. The reboot reminded me that I liked it better when Godzilla was fighting other monsters (or similarly gigantic foes like robotic replicas). I liked it even better when he did that while allied with other monsters. It just multiplied the quota for monsters and other nonhuman characters, and I remembered that being a plus for me.

But even if the reboot might limit Godzilla’s potential dynamics with other characters and scenarios by focusing on just the conflict with humans, it would still feature Godzilla, so I was looking forward to it. Imagine my increased hype in the theater, as the story unfolded on the screen and I realized that, no, they were going straight to Godzilla dueling other monsters in this movie after all. It was a happy surprise – for me, anyway. (Apparently, others griped about it with shocked disappointment. I didn’t look much into that.)

Though I suppose back in 2014, my memories of Godzilla fighting other monsters had to have been hazy, warm visions of old movies that my dad probably provided. I’m fairly certain my first introduction to Godzilla was when the reptilian kaiju brawled with other monsters, and not just stomped on humans and their infrastructure. Actually, the spin-off cartoon of the disastrous 1998 Godzilla film had to have been a little fresher in my mind. While that movie didn’t work, Godzilla: The Series very much did.

It followed the adventures of a new Godzilla, a hatchling that imprinted on a human scientist, and protected his adoptive father and their found family from a string of opposing monsters and other dangerous threats. It was a premise that immediately sparked my imagination. I had always liked thinking about Godzilla’s feelings, and this incarnation provided a lot of inspiration for that. I thought about the feelings he’d have for his adoptive father, their family, his unique upbringing, what he felt about his place in the world. While he couldn’t verbalize something like recognizable human language, I believed he could think and feel, and I was curious about what went on in his heart and mind. It’s part of why I’ve enjoyed Godzilla fighting other monsters and even working with them. It made me imagine what he could be thinking and feeling in that situation, how he changes and grows.

There seems to have been some talk of a split between Godzilla’s origins as a dark metaphor for nuclear disaster and his role as someone who will fend off other monsters for the sake of the whole planet. Godzilla Minus One vs. Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire, essentially. But stories and characters can change and evolve. Godzilla has. There’s no real “versus” here. As others have pointed out, both can exist. The theatrical box office certainly seems open to the pair. I like seeing both (and more) because it expands Godzilla as a character, gives him more dimension, more to do and think and feel. It might paint an even larger picture of him.

If he were to stay as a dark vision of only nuclear doom, would some questions go unexplored, some facets of character never touched upon? Because Godzilla seems to have always invited more. Even if Godzilla’s original creators only conceived of him as a dark metaphor to be opposed, pieces of his premise pose too many other possibilities to explore. He represents nuclear threat, but he’s also been embodied as a living creature born first as any animal natural to the world, a victim of nuclear assault and trauma. And then how that trauma turned into further destruction can be shown through the fantastical logistics of this all happening to a giant kaiju who can respond to his trauma with rage – and everyone can feel his rage on a grander scale due to his sheer size and physical might. (DeadEndia creator Hamish Steele made a short comic with his own take on the monster’s pain and anger.) But still, it’s not Godzilla’s fault. It’s illuminating to remember that it’s not really his fault.

Because while Godzilla was created from nuclear warfare – he’s ultimately still not his creator. Or he doesn’t have to be. Can’t he be more? He’ll always bear the scars of it, but can he also find a place outside of its looming shadow? Can he move forward to a better mindset that brings him some measure of peace? Can he loosen the grip of the metaphor and history that created him? It’s hard not to think about Godzilla’s feelings and thoughts from that perspective. It’s hard not to sympathize with him. It’s hard not to wish that he could recover after what he’s suffered, and even continue to grow. Hard not to hope things can somehow get better for him.

Whatever his original creators had in mind, others can receive him differently – or at least I can, even if it might be just reframing something I saw before as a child who thought about Godzilla’s feelings, even before I knew more of his story. While in retrospect^*, it can get goofy (*because of course it didn’t strike me as goofy when I was a child), the alternate story mode of Godzilla duking it out with other monsters to defend the planet can carry some hope. It can point to Godzilla recovering, in a way. He doesn’t just have to be only his trauma. He can regroup and ensure that when push comes to shove, the whole world isn’t literally destroyed for good, not on his watch. He can join forces with other monsters who also don’t want total global destruction, because damn it, they really do all live here. Godzilla can have a growing frenemy relationship with King Kong. Godzilla can reunite with his queen Mothra and resume their bond. They can continue to be a unique OTP in fandom. Godzilla can curl up like a cat in a colosseum and actually rest. Godzilla can remember his nuclear trauma, but he doesn’t have to always stay there.

While maybe it could be called silly, it offers some hope that could be appreciated too. And even just a potentially more expansive character study with a nonhuman like Godzilla, from trauma to other emotional paths.

During an opening montage of media reactions stitched together in a video essay by FilmSpeak, there’s an audio clip that asks: “What is Godzilla? Is he the embodiment of Japan’s nuclear postwar trauma? Or is he Japan’s national hope cleverly disguised as a fire-breathing monster?” And why not both? It’s not inconceivable to think that Godzilla started as one and then evolved to also become something else. That he did, in fact, get a character arc.

And character arcs aren’t always a straight line from Point A to Point B. In his latest theatrical outing with Kong (and later Mothra), Godzilla pretty ruthlessly kills another kaiju seemingly minding their own business, all done to prepare for a bigger threat. It may be in another form, but he still has his bite. Which can be another intriguing aspect of character. Why wouldn’t his bite persist in some form? Why can’t it bend and shift to suit new situations and new mindsets? And maybe he can grow from that too. Maybe his bite will shift again. Godzilla can both maintain and transform. He can come from nuclear trauma. He can carry its scars. He can come to rest in a colosseum, curl up like any other creature of the world that’s found somewhere cozy to sleep. Because before the scars, he was just one of the world’s creatures – and underneath those scars, he still is.

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Alyssa Wejebe is a writer and editor specializing in the wide world of arts and entertainment. She has worked in pop culture journalism and in the localization of Japanese light novels. You can find her on Twitter @alyssawejebe.