As far as fictional creations go, there are few characters more iconic than Godzilla – the enormous, otherworldly lizard that towers over the tallest skyscraper of whatever city he has chosen as the scene of his next bout of terror, who is mainly a villain but sometimes takes on a more heroic role (particularly when facing one of his equally terrifying adversaries), has etched itself into popular culture, rising from the antagonist of a small Japanese production to become a worldwide phenomenon, a character that is as frequently parodied as he is celebrated, and a cultural icon of Japanese cinema. It has been 70 years since Tomoyuki Tanaka pitched the idea of a film featuring this character to Toho Film, a company that not only supported this bizarre request but stood by the character for almost its entire history, even when he ventured off into other nations and became as popular in the west as he was in his country of origin. To both commemorate the anniversary of the character’s creation, as well as an effort to see if this kind of film still stands up in a contemporary cinematic landscape, Takashi Yamazaki (one of the most trusted names in Japanese cinema when it comes to major blockbusters, particularly those driven by special effects) takes the reigns on a new film featuring the iconic villain, which became Godzilla Minus One, acting as a prequel to the original 1954 film, and sharing many interesting details that not only tie these two films together but many of the entries into this expansive series that has seen over three dozen films produced featuring Godzilla in some form or another. Daring and provocative, and impressively made, which is to be expected with a director like Yamakazi at the helm, since he has been known to be able to deftly combine style and substance with incredible fervour. Godzilla Minus One is unexpectedly one of the year’s most compelling blockbusters and a film that proves that a small risk can reap the most significant rewards, especially when it comes to handling a project that aims to pay tribute to one of the most iconic fictional creations in cinema history, a task that could not have been anything less than totally intimidating.

The concept of a prequel is more often than not seen as a reviled concept – very rarely are they requested, and even more scarce are films that manage to be anything more than cheap attempts to turn a profit by banking on an iconic character and adding layers of lore that don’t usually make much sense, but instead fool the viewer into thinking it is essential. Therefore, it’s a great surprise to find a prequel that manages to be not only a sufficient continuation of an iconic character but one that stands as a great film on its own. A solid rule of thumb is that if a prequel can be watched in isolation, without even an iota of knowledge of the rest of the series that came before it chronologically, it has succeeded to a considerable extent. Godzilla Minus One fashions itself as a loose prequel, telling the story of the first encounter humanity had with this terrifying creature, as well as their initial attempts to prevent his reign of terror from lasting longer than required. Even the title itself (which is simple but incredibly imaginative in comparison to how prequels usually are named – I loathe to think of the idea that this could have been titled Godzilla: The Early Years) indicates that it is taking a slightly different approach, aiming to stand on its while still being tethered to the original films in a significant enough way that there are a few references left there precisely for devotees of the franchise. This film avoids the usual pratfalls that come with prequels – there isn’t much time spent on exposition (and it resists the temptation to offer some explanation of the origins of Godzilla, instead allowing the ambiguity of the original version of the character to persist), and the focus is less on clever references, but rather on constructing a solid story that stands on its own without any need to rely on the already impeccable legacy laid out by previous filmmakers over the decades as they developed the character, which is treated with such affection and genuine commitment by the director and his team tasked with making this film.

The concept of Godzilla as a character seems incredibly simple – an enormous lizard-like entity that wreaks havoc on urban areas as the innocent masses flee in the hopes that they can be spared from his wrath. However, while it is tempting to focus on this more absurd aspect of the character, the most cursory glance at these films and what they represent shows that there is always something much deeper beneath the surface. The intention behind many of these films was to use them as allegories for socio-cultural and political issues in Japan at the time of their production, as well as being holistically complex works that touch on themes much deeper than that of a giant monster causing destruction wherever he goes. This carries over into Godzilla Minus One, which is as much about the origins of the titular character as it is a fascinating depiction of Japan in the post-war era. It is not a surprise that most of the story takes place in 1946, roughly a year since the end of the Second World War, which caused considerable change within Japan. As a result, this film tells a very human story in the form of a high-concept science fiction thriller, which is often the most enticing way to disseminate social commentary. Choosing to make this film a period piece is fascinating since the majority of films featuring the character have been contemporaneous to when they were made, so launching us back several decades has a profound impact on our understanding of both the character’s origins and the more interesting historical details that linger over the storyline. There is a genuine emotional heft to the film, which comes from how it references the past (the destruction wrought by Godzilla on these urban areas looking eerily similar to the aftermath of the atomic bombs cannot be a mere coincidence), as well as how it develops its story to be genuinely quite touching, which is not always what we would expect from a film of this nature. Yet, it consistently defies expectations and proves to be much more than a run-of-the-mill monster movie in every conceivable way.

A film like Godzilla Minus One is going to have a slightly uphill climb from the start, since not only does it have seven decades of existing lore, and the widespread cultural importance that accompanies it, but the film also needs to be a solidly-crafted, meaningful endeavour, rather than just a lazy, self-referential bundle of ideas. It is likely that just about anything could have been done with this film and audiences would have flocked to see it (especially since it was a return to Toho Film, and there is always merit in going back to one’s roots) – so fact that the creative team works so laboriously to bring this film to life in as meaningful a way as possible is quite remarkable. Credit for this must primarily go to Yamazaki himself, since he truly became involved in every aspect of the film, from directing to writing to doing the visual effects, which proves that this was a passion project for a director who has carved quite a niche for himself within the industry. They quite simply don’t make films like this anymore – the original Godzilla was a major achievement for its time, but its effects (while impressive for the era) have not aged well, but are nonetheless delightful enough that they still hold appeal. Logically, despite being a prequel, this film chooses to employ complex effects – but unlike many high-concept science fiction blockbusters, Godzilla Minus One is neither driven by the visuals, nor even guided by them – the director makes it clear that the effects are there in service of the story, rather than the inverse, and as we saw seventy years ago, an actor dressed in a costume can be entirely convincing if the premise is strong and the storytelling is solid. Here, the design of Godzilla is incredible, and Yamazaki makes sure that he makes good use of the technology, albeit only to the extent that it is still tethered to the story. The characterization also plays a major part in the story, since the film asks us to form a genuine connection with the characters, and the actors manage to overcome the fact that these kinds of films aren’t known for the quality of their performances, but the terrific cast (consisting of standouts like Ryunosuke Kamiki, Sakura Ando and Hidetaka Yoshioka, who is perhaps the most memorable as the wild-haired scientist who spearheads the elimination of Godzilla) manage to bring this film to life in vivid detail. Every component of Godzilla Minus One is well-placed and contributes to the overall experience that has proven to be oddly resonant to the global audience.

Godzilla Minus One is an old-fashioned spectacle, the kind that we find tends to be produced far less frequently than they were in the past. There’s something so intriguing about a film that aims to offer genuine entertainment, but in a way that suggests something deeper beneath the surface, and despite the nature of the parodies that circulate the legacy of the character, Godzilla has primarily existed as an allegorical figure, designed to showcase the challenges facing Japanese society – because there is nothing that represents the burden of social, cultural and economic unease than an enormous, destructive lizard with a vendetta against humanity. In exploring these ideas, this film manages to keep everything quite simple and elegant, while never once dismissing the possibility that there are further conversations that can emerge in the process – it’s a complex, daring and often quite unsettling action film that is as gorgeously-crafted as it is narratively-profound, which is almost undeniable in how it captures the various aspects of humanity that are so integral to the identity of the film. Godzilla Minus One is a perfect tribute to seventy years of this character, being a meaningful examination of not only the character’s origins but also a return to the kind of simple, straightforward manner of filmmaking that governed these productions, which manage to be wildly entertaining without ever needing to resort to excess. It’s a beautiful film with heartfelt emotions and a genuine sense of profound meaning in what it intends to explore – and it only proves that there is still a chance for us to be surprised, even with the most simple of premises, which usually tend to be the most meaningful in ways that are always difficult to predict, but wonderful to experience, especially when celebrating the legacy of a truly extraordinary cinematic creation.