Godzilla Minus Zero Demands to Be Heard – A Review

There is a noise in Godzilla Minus Zero that I would happily pay to hear again. Ghidorah’s attacks arrive like gunfire in a library, a tremendous crack followed by an electrical fizz that disappears almost before the impact has registered. I was shocked by how brief it was. The first word in my notes was “LOUD”, which apparently I felt compelled to write again a little further down.

Find a cinema for this film. The sound design alone deserves it.

Ghidorah is a magnificent creation, and what unsettled me most was how much of its behaviour felt recognisable. There is an animal instinct to its movements, something strangely natural about a creature whose anatomy ought to make such familiarity impossible. That impression becomes particularly disturbing once the film begins exploring the more unpleasant possibilities of its anatomy. Creature mutilation is considerably more explicit this time around, and the filmmakers have some wonderfully sickening ideas about what these enormous bodies can endure. Beasts capable of reducing cities to rubble are themselves torn apart, their apparent invulnerability giving way to the horrible reality of flesh and bone. I found myself studying the injuries, fascinated by details I would ordinarily have preferred not to see. Somebody had to conceive of these awful things, and an extraordinary amount of craftsmanship has gone into making them look so thoroughly revolting.

I loved how horrible it was prepared to be.

Godzilla himself is barely in the film. I hardly missed him. Ghidorah has more than enough presence to occupy our attention, and there is plenty to enjoy when neither creature is on screen. I was glad to see Koichi and Noriko again. After everything they endured in Godzilla Minus One, there is a particular pleasure in watching them enjoy the life they fought to preserve. Their affection has lost none of its appeal, and Aki-chan is wonderfully played. I enjoyed spending time with these people, knowing what their happiness had cost them and how much another catastrophe could take away.

The screenplay occasionally struggles to make as much sense of these characters as the performances do. There were moments when I understood what somebody was doing without understanding why they had decided to do it. Important developments arrive before the people involved have been given sufficient reason to pursue them, leaving the audience to account for decisions the writing has not properly established. Minus One was much better at allowing its characters’ experiences to shape their choices. Here, I could believe wholeheartedly in the relationships while questioning the decisions being made within them.

I found myself similarly divided by the action, sometimes within the space of a few seconds. One shot can capture these creatures with breathtaking grandeur, only for the next to make the same encounter look surprisingly ordinary. At its best, the photography makes their proportions almost absurd, reducing everything around them to insignificance. Elsewhere, the framing and editing cannot sustain that impression. I was frequently more impressed by individual images than the sequences they belonged to, an odd result for a film with such accomplished effects. There are shots I would happily have spent longer looking at, followed by others that left me wondering how the same encounter could suddenly feel so much smaller.

The climax delivers a thrilling finish, though one baffling decision takes some of the satisfaction out of its payoff. I cannot understand what the film gains from the choice, particularly when so much of the surrounding sequence works. I was completely absorbed in the finale, which made the misjudgement all the more irritating. A sequence that had given me so much of what I wanted stumbled over something I could not see the sense in.

Godzilla Minus One remains the better film. Its screenplay is stronger, its direction more consistent, and its characters better served by the story Minus Zero is rougher, occasionally frustrating, and still a great monster film. I loved the nastiness of its creature work, the affection between its characters and the audacity of some of its imagery. Godzilla might be the name on the poster, but his limited appearances never make the film feel smaller. There is too much else worth looking at.

And I would see it again in a heartbeat. There are horrible details I want another look at, shots I would happily spend longer admiring, and most of all, another opportunity to hear Ghidorah unleash that ridiculous noise. The first time was enough to convince me how much the cinema matters to this film. I’d quite like a second.

Find a cinema. Make it a loud one.