Gojira (1954)
A giant radioactive dinosaur named Gojira or Godzilla, depending on which side of the Pacific you live on, is disturbed by nuclear bomb tests and goes on a rampage through Tokyo. A love triangle between dashing sailor Ogata (Akira Takarada), beautiful Emiko (Momoko Kôchi), and the brilliant scientist Serizawa (Akihiko Hirata) complicates matters as Ogata and Emiko must persuade Serizawa to use his secret weapon against the monster. Reporter Steve Martin (Raymond Burr), who only exists half the time and is a sometimes friend of Serizawa, narrates the action.
Gojira is a remarkable motion picture, one that could never have been made in the United States, or France, or India. It could only have come from the single country that has survived a nuclear attack. I can’t write a personal account of what it is like to have cancer. Similarly, only the Japanese can create a personal account of the effects of having an atom bomb dropped on you. And that’s what Gojira is, a personal account. We’re pretty deep into metaphor land here. This is metaphorpalooza. For those who smirk at the movie (and there are many), this film has nothing to do with a giant monster padding about, or horror in the traditional genre sense. This is about the real horror of flame, radiation, and a mushroom cloud.
Godzilla (that is, Gojira, since this is the Japanese version) symbolizes the destruction caused by the atom bomb. He can also be taken as a metaphor for the Earth (and how it will react poorly to our fouling it up with H-bomb tests). The oxygen destroyer, the super weapon that may be able to stop Godzilla, is yet another metaphor for nuclear weapons. The multiple metaphors allow director and co-writer Ishirô Honda to explore the issues from several angles. With Godzilla as a spirit of the Earth, Honda can attack the nuclear arms race and the primarily American H-bomb tests that were going on in the Pacific. Dr. Serizawa and his ultimate weapon opens up a discussion on weather nuclear weapons should ever have been developed and what Oppenheimer and his colleagues should have done (and because this is a complex movie, it doesn’t give a simple answer). But the real power of the film comes when Godzilla is seen as the bomb itself. Without placing blame or making a grand political statement, Gojira lets us see what it was like in Nagasaki and Hiroshima in 1945. The hospital scene—with crying, irradiated children, now mainly orphans—is the most powerful representation I’ve ever seen of the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust.
Along with the message, we’re given a fascinating group of characters with complicated relationships. Honda cleverly creates both multilayered individuals who agonize over their choices, and simplistic ones that cling to a point no matter that reality disagrees. This is a story where the wise old man turns out not to be so wise.
The special effects are weak, even for 1954, but Honda keeps Godzilla in the dark, and the less-than-realistic monster suit and miniature buildings turn out not to harm the picture. This time, the giant beast isn’t here to look cool. Slick, showy effects would have been out of sync with the dark tone of the movie.
There’s nothing weak about the music. Akira Ifukube’s score is dramatic and powerful. I doubt Gojira would be so fondly remembered without it.
Viewers who only know the giant lizard by the later camp offerings may be disappointed, or at least in for some culture shock. There is no light fun to be had in Gojira. Its endless copies, many made by Honda himself, avoided the heart of the original, and instead presented destruction as entertainment.
Godzilla King of the Monsters (1956) 
Two years after its Japanese release, a retooled version, titled Godzilla King of the Monsters found its way to American theaters. Sure, it had the normal poor-quality dubbing, but the changes were much more substantial. Somewhere around forty minutes were cut, mostly to make room for new footage with American actor Raymond Burr. He plays a newspaperman who happens to drop by Tokyo to visit his friend, Professor Serizawa, when Godzilla starts his rampage. He never catches up with his old buddy (since their parts where filmed on different sides of the world), but he is given excessive accesse and a translator by the government so that he can stand around and comment on everything that happens. That’s all he can do: comment. He may be the star of the re-edited picture, but he’s not the protagonist. Since he can’t interact with anyone, he narrates with lines that would have fit into a radio play. Think Orson Welles’ War of the Worlds and you’ll be on the right track.
I take it as a given that the additions are an artistic violation, but on that level, it’s a pretty good violation. The Burr scenes are added with reasonable care, and his report during the main attack on the city is as effective as anything in the original. His dramatic farewell, “This is it, George,” right before Godzilla knocks the building down around him, is one of those cinematic moments that has stuck with me for thirty-five years. It would have been nice for the character to be part of the story, but given the constraints, it’s not bad.
The deletions are more troubling. It’s often claimed that the message was pulled from the American release, but that’s not the case. There are fewer discussions about the folly of nuclear testing, and the ones that are still there are shorter, but the point comes across clearly. What doesn’t come through are the personalities of the Japanese characters. They are empty figures that only pop up when a plot element is needed. It is difficult to understand the tragedy when you cannot empathize with the characters. With so much cut, Godzilla King of the Monsters feels like exactly what it is: outsiders viewing pain and grief from far away.
My rating for Godzilla King of the Monsters is based on the existence of Gojira. If the U.S. release was the only one, I’d recommend it higher, but since there is an option, it’s the Japanese version you need to see.