Graphic: James Bareham/Polygon | Source image: Legendary Pictures/Warner Bros. Pictures
For some, the sight of an irradiated bipedal lizard and an ape the size of the Empire State Building is enough to set the neurons ablaze with glee. These folks are the truly blessed among us. They can just luxuriate in the spectacle of a movie like
Godzilla vs. Kong. But not I! No, sir. I am the sweaty fool attempting to attach greater meaning to a movie where King Kong takes a shower. I simply must justify my film-watching with an overwrought theory or two.
But there is some precedent for my mania. Godzilla has never just been a fun monster fable. The first film, directed by Ishiro Honda and released by Toho in 1954, was a dark allegory for the persistent scars of the American nuclear attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki during World War II. Atomic anxiety was omnipresent in the world of the mid-20th century, but more so in Japan, where the tragic consequences of nuclear weapons were made very, very real. Godzilla was an avatar for all of that, birthed by humanity’s blasted hubris and penchant for self-destruction.