Trying to convince somebody that isn't wholly invested in cinema, or somebody simply not willing to learn about the culture, that the first Godzilla film was actually a film littered with commentary and played nothing like the idea we all have in our heads about the towering monster is a daunting and almost thankless task in itself. Once you grasp the idea of a postwar Japan that was left demilitarized and financially and structurally battered, fearful of invaders, nuclear repercussions, and the country's future in terms of basic economic prosperity, the original, 1954 Japanese film (known as Gojira in Japanese) becomes a film ripe for thoughtful dissection and analysis by just your average cinephile or history buff.

Little needs to be explained in the way of the film's story, I feel, but the basic idea concerns the awakening of a towering behemoth thanks to prolific nuclear testing in the Pacific Ocean. The Japanese are petrified of the destruction possible with this creature lurking around, find their government is content on hiding and obscuring facts related to the issue, and see a dissenting country in the mix of deciding what to do with the monster. While a good majority of the people, understandably, want this monster extinct and destroyed as soon as possible, Dr. Yamane Emiko (Momoko Kōchi) finds the possibility for research and analysis on Godzilla invaluable and has the ambition to try and capture him alive. Dr. Emiko is in the minority on this view, but he sees the long-term value in the creature, while the townspeople, acting on impulse and responding to an immediate conception of fear, want nothing to do with the creature.

This ignites an idea brought on by classic Universal monster movies of the 1930's and 1940's about humans' role in these man-made disasters, or whether or not humans have the responsibility to "play God" in any way. This idea, in conjunction with relativistic looks at the Japanese mindset in the 1940's and 1950's, after the repercussions of World War II, the basic elements of human fear, and what Godzilla metaphorically represents, are all relative in analyzing this particular piece, and it may indeed be the only franchise where the first film is looked at and critiqued in an entirely different light than its successors.

Following the boom of the Japanese film industry in the 1950's and 1960's, American activities such as golf were beginning to become prominent in Japan, along with the ubiquity of home Television sets, which saw exponential sales from a few thousands to two million during the mid to late 1960's. As a result, Japan's successful film industry became short-lived, as less and less people flocked out to the theaters due to the lack of popularity of the establishments comparative to the United States. The company that released Gojira, Toho and its director Ishirō Honda, began catering to the lowest common-denominator, not filling their follow-up efforts to Godzilla with thought-provoking commentary on Japanese culture and topical events, but instead, loading them with the kind of cheesiness and glitz expected to attract young children or a late-night audience. The Godzilla films became more concerned with the sounds-and-lights aesthetic, ridiculous and often ludicrous monsters that were totally geared towards selling action figures, and a line of comic books and video games to license the everlasting hell out of Godzilla name.

This kind of franchise and international ubiquity obscured the original film not only for its datedness but made its justifications for social commentary laughable to those uninformed about Japanese culture at the time . This is one of the many things licensing does to hurt a brand or product in the long-term sense, for it alienates consumers because they can't seem to escape it no matter which way they turn, but the reasons for the greatness of the original product become lessened or forgotten due to the constant influx of new material related to the original work.

Gojira may find itself crude in parts, with its assembly of miniatures optimistically passing off as a rogue monstrosity devastating a large community, or its evident aspects showcasing overacting, but it's nonetheless enjoyable on an entertainment level and thoughtful on a commentary-level. This is one of the few films that can be so relevant and topical while playing one of the most simplistic but effective instrumental tracks, and that in its own right is uncommonly beautiful.

Starring: Akira Takarada, Momoko Kōchi, Akihiko Hirata, and Takashi Shimura. Directed by: Ishirō Honda.

A film that works because of its campy monster and its budget-limited special effects (they couldn't afford stop motion so it's all a dude wearing a rubber suit tromping on miniatures), but is made special because of its deep meaning and the warnings and questions it has for the nuclear age.

It's telling that it was the most advanced scientific breakthrough made by the most brilliant minds on the planet, the harnessing of the atom, that led to the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and in turn, in this movie, to the unleashing of a two million year old monster. It warns humanity that in stepping forward in its understanding of the universe, it was also taking a step backwards, and unleashing irrational, destructive violence upon the world. That's all pretty obvious I guess, but the scenes of fleeing people being incinerated by Godzilla, women and children huddling together in fear, and the destruction of Tokyo looking like an atomic bomb had gone off must have reverberated especially with the original audiences of the time. It certainly did for me. There is something deeply painful about this film.

In a fascinating development, it's a Japanese scientist who has to wrestle with the morality of having developed a weapon of mass destruction called the 'Oxygen Destroyer', knowing that its use to stop Godzilla in the short term may lead to its use to further horrific destruction in the long term. It seems to put the Japanese in the same position as the Americans in 1945, one where there are no easy answers. How does one put the lid back on the box of an arms race, where one technology or act of violence leads to another in a crazy, unending spiral? The solution offered may or may not be all that realistic, but I thought just raising the question in the way the film did - and so soon after the war - was incredibly thought-provoking and brave. The film thus works on emotional and philosophical levels that one normally wouldn't get in a monster film, or at least, with this level of meaning and intensity. Definitely recommended.

Along with the 1933-version of "King Kong", this original Japanese release of "Gojira" is THE most essential giant monster movie ever and one the very few horror movies that every film lover in general has to see at least once. Why? Because, it's so much more than just silly drive-in cinema with a cheap looking monster! This is dark and apocalyptic Sci-Fi with a nearly allegorical rant about nuclear warfare and the honest fear for new types of weaponry. But I really don't feel like going into the deeper meaning behind "Gojira", as it primarily is an adrenalin rushing and overpowering action classic that doesn't need intellectual defense at all. One of the many reasons why I love this film so much (and same goes for "King Kong") is that we don't have to wait a dreadfully long time and/or endure a large amount of tedious speeches before we see the monster we want to see! Godzilla makes his highly memorable first appearance after approximately 20 minutes (by stretching his neck over a cliff!) and, from then on, this is deliciously hectic and paranoid monster-madness! The little bugger is presumably the result of too much H-bomb radiation and lives in the depths of the ocean, near the island of Odo. But now he's heading for Tokyo with his unnameable strength, fiery breath and – oh yeah – insatiable appetite for destruction! Particularly this extended sequence in which Godzilla blasts his way through the Japanese capital, crushing buildings and setting monuments on fire, is very impressive and legendary. The actor-in-monster-costume works a lot better than any form of computer engineered effects and the carefully imitated Tokyo sets are truly enchanting. The absolute best aspect about this production is its powerful score, which makes Godzilla even more threatening. Great stuff!

This milestone simultaneously meant the go-ahead for an innumerable amount of quickly shot sequels ("Son of Gozilla", "Godzilla vs. Mothra"), spin-offs ("Godzilla VS. King Kong"), remakes ("Godzilla 1984", the hi-tech American version) and of course an overload of pathetic imitations ("Reptilicus", "Monster from a Prehistoric Planet"). I still have to see all the direct sequels but don't really know what to expect from them. I guess that even if they're only half as good as this original, I'll be very satisfied.