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Thoughts on GODZILLA: THE PLANET EATER (spoilers)

January 10, 2019 1 comment

Netflix has now released the conclusion of its Godzilla anime trilogy (Part 1, Part 2), under the English title Godzilla: The Planet Eater (Gojira Hoshi o Kū Mono, which is more literally “The One Who Harvests Planets/Stars”). While it’s the culmination of what was set up in the first two films, in many ways it’s a very different story, less action-packed and more philosophical — and not all that much about Godzilla.

The film opens with the crew aboard the Aratrum in orbit arguing over the events of the previous film’s climax, conveniently providing a recap. The Bilusaludo/Bilsards are outraged that Captain Sakaki Haruo, our protagonist, passed up his chance to kill Godzilla in order to instead stop the Bilsards’ Mechagodzilla City from becoming an even worse threat. The human crew argue he probably did the right thing, and it leads to a schism with the Bilsards seizing the engine room and trapping the ship in orbit. But that won’t amount to much, since the Bilsards’ role in this narrative is all but over.

Down below, Professor Martin tells Haruo that Yuko, his love interest from Part 2 who was infected by Bilsard nanometal, is brain-dead, her body only kept alive by the nanotech. It’s a rather ignominious way to drop her from the story. Meanwhile, the Exif priest Metphies (still pronounced “Metophius”) is convincing the surviving soldiers that Haruo was saved from the nanometal by a miracle (though Martin quickly figures out what was obvious from Part 2, that it was the Houtua natives’ healing sparkle-dust that immunized him), and the soldiers both on Earth and on the Aratrum are implausibly quick to be converted to the Exif’s cult, with Metphies and his priest counterpart on the ship using Haruo as his Messiah figure but controlling the narrative so Haruo can’t actually get a word in to refute it — and Martin’s too afraid of being burned as a heretic to point out the simple truth. It’s all implausibly easy for these soldiers to be turned into religious fanatics, even given their fear and despair about Godzilla.

Anyway, the twin pseudo-Mothra-heralds Miana and Maina both consecutively get naked for Haruo, your conventional “My natural role as a primitive tribal babe is to be sexually available for the hero” cliche, although for unclear reasons he rejects the former twin and sleeps with the latter. (Pretty short grieving period for Yuko there, champ. Her corpse is literally still warm, though that’s admittedly because of the nanotech.) That frees up Miana to confront Metphies and discover through her telepathy that he also has telepathy and is planning devious things with his priest buddy on the ship, so Metphies captures her, and Haruo has a fortunately symbolic dream about Metphy cooking her as soup. But there is real soup, which Metphy serves to his converts with a sermon about how the soup ceases to exist but lives on as part of something greater. (Somehow I don’t think “But we are not soup” is going to go down in history as one of the great philosophical statements.) The collective prayer of the converts, combined with Exif crystal techmagicology, draws the Exif’s extradimensional god, Ghidorah, to this plane. In perhaps the film’s most effectively chilling sequence, the soup drinkers are devoured one by one as the shadow of one of Ghidorah’s heads/necks intersects their own shadows, with the focus of the camera ending up more on the horrified reaction of the last one to go.

The impact up in space is more dramatic — a singularity opens up by the Aratrum and a golden Ghidorah head and endlessly long neck emerge, evidently made of pure gravitational energy and wrapping around the ship, causing chaos and distorting time (the bridge crew gets a message from the engine room 40 seconds after it was destroyed and reads their own life signs as ceased several moments before it happens), ending in an impressively rendered explosion that creates auroras in the Earth’s atmosphere below.

Somehow the folks on the surface never figure out what happened to the ship, just that they’re cut off, but they don’t have much time to wonder. Three singularities form in the clouds around the dormant Godzilla (remember him?), and a long, snaking energy neck emerges from each one. Martin watches in bewilderment as the Ghidorah heads latch onto Godzilla and start draining his energy while he’s unable to touch them in return. The instruments show nothing except gravity distortions, but the observers can see and hear Ghidorah. Martin figures out that the monster must come from another dimension with different physical laws and is being guided by an observer in our dimension — no doubt Metphies.

Haruo confronts Metphies, who has replaced his own eye with the Ghidorah-linked stone he’s been carrying all trilogy. He uses his telepathy (or the stone, or both) to overpower Haruo physically and show him mental visions explaining the Exif’s nihilistic philosophy: All civilizations advance until they invent nuclear weapons, which breeds their destruction and triggers the birth of a Godzilla as the ultimate life form, and then Ghidorah comes to feed on the Godzilla and complete the cycle… which somehow destroys the planet too. The Exif see death as inevitable and thus a blessing to embrace, so they worship Ghidorah, having deliberately sacrificed their planet to it and sending their surviving priests out to make sure other civilizations repeat the cycle.

But Maina and Martin give Haruo a hand, communing with the Houtua’s god — an unhatched Mothra egg — to counter Ghidorah’s influence. A vision of Mothra frees Haruo from Metphies’s control, and he remembers his parents’ love and optimism as a counter for Metphies’s despair and nihilism. He also realizes Metphy caused the explosion of his grandfather’s shuttle in the first movie. He overpowers Metphies in his mind and in reality, breaking the stone and the link to Ghidorah. Which, by what Martin said before, should have made Ghidorah unable to exist or interact in our realm, but somehow it makes Ghidorah sufficiently subject to physical law that Godzilla can destroy its heads one by one, followed by the singularities they emerged from. (If they’re connected to a single body, we never see it except in visions.)

We then get a pop-song montage of semi-still images of the soldiers burying their weapons and hooking up with the conveniently numerous primitive tribal babes (who, remember, are evolved from insects, yet evidently interfertile with humans), until Martin eagerly tells Haruo that he’s used a bit of nanometal from Yuko’s still-living corpse (remember her?) to restart the surviving Vulture aircraft, and says he can use the Bilsard tech to recreate all their advanced civilization — which gives Haruo a mental flash of Ghidorah’s screech and Metphies’s dying warning that Ghidorah would always be watching for humanity to destroy itself again. Haruo then has a final talk with Maina about whether she fears and hates Godzilla. She says she fears him like lightning and tornadoes, but her people have no word for hate. You don’t hate a force of nature, you just learn to live with it.

So Haruo takes Yuko’s body into the Vulture and sacrifices himself in a kamikaze run at Godzilla, asking the kaiju with his final breath to make sure every last bit is destroyed this time. Godzilla obliges and is hit by the wreckage, but probably survives. After the credits, we see the Houtua acting out the past battles in effigy and praying to Godzilla (or Mothra, or both?) to devour the things they fear.

Okay, so, that was pretty well-made, but pretty nihilistic and Luddite. The Godzilla series has always revolved around cautionary tales about the dangers of the misuse of technology, but this trilogy comes down a little too hard on the idea of technology being intrinsically destructive, and this film in particular takes some narrative shortcuts that don’t quite work. It’s also an oddly slow, somber, talky film for the finale of a trilogy — quite a change from the first film’s excessive action in its third act, but maybe a bit too far in the other direction. And what action it has is pretty static. It’s the only Godzilla movie I’ve ever seen where Godzilla hardly moves at all. He spends half the film dormant and recovering from Part 2’s climax, then moves exactly once to the location where he confronts Ghidorah, a battle that’s conducted with Godzilla staying in one place except when he’s briefly levitated by Ghidorah. While the design of this extradimensional-gravity-god version of Ghidorah is striking and novel, the kaiju action in this trilogy overall has been largely disappointing.

Still, in my last review I did express hope that this film would be the richest and deepest of the trilogy, and from a philosophical standpoint it pretty much is, if you like that sort of thing. But I think it falls short in other respects, from character to action to the extent to which it actually uses Godzilla as a presence rather than a concept. All in all, the Godzilla anime trilogy was interestingly different and in some ways impressive, but ultimately underwhelming.

Thoughts on GODZILLA: CITY ON THE EDGE OF BATTLE (spoilers)

With my financial situation starting to improve again, I decided I might as well spend the 8 bucks a month to re-up my Netflix subscription, and the first thing I decided to watch was the second part of the anime Godzilla trilogy that began with Godzilla: Planet of the Monsters. Part 2 is called City on the Edge of Battle in English, which means somebody’s a fan of Star Trek and/or Harlan Ellison, since the original title of the film, Gojira Kessen Kidō Zōshoku Toshi, translates more literally as Godzilla: Battle Mobile Proliferation City, or alternately The City Mechanized for the Final Battle.

The sequel picks up right where Part 1 left off, with the only recap being a brief opening scene of the shipboard crew hearing the panicked reports of the ground team being devastated and discovering the existence of a 300-meter-high Godzilla, apparently the original having grown immense over 20,000 years on the long-abandoned Earth. We then cut to our protagonist, Captain Sakaki Haruo, as he recovers in the wake of Godzilla’s attack and finds that his wounds have been treated by a mysterious, initially shy elfin woman who’s apparently native to the Earth. He reunites with most of the surviving members of his team, and after an initial conflict with the native humanoids that luckily doesn’t kill anyone, the survivors are captured and taken to the underground village of the natives, who are called the Houtua. The native woman, Miana, turns out to have a twin sister, Maina, with whom she telepathically speaks in unison to let the soldiers understand their language. (The soldiers are oddly bewildered by the concept of identical twins, but then, they’ve grown up among a smallish refugee population, so maybe they’ve never met any twins before.) The Houtua are covered in a sort of scaly dust, their “bangs” look more like feathery antennae on closer inspection, and the team’s science guy, Professor Martin, thinks they might be descended from insects instead of humans, despite appearances. And they worship something called the Egg, which seems to rest behind a massive wall carving resembling a stylized winged insect. By this point, it was pretty clear to me that these are a new interpretation of the Infant Island tribe that worships Mothra, and Maina and Miana are the latest version of Mothra’s twin heralds the Shobijin (aka Cosmos aka Elias), despite being normal-sized. (The Netflix subtitles render their names as “mAina” and “mIana,” but I guess that’s meant to stress the difference.)

Once Haruo tells the Houtua that his team is there to destroy Godzilla, their weapons are returned and they’re allowed to leave, and the twins come along to guide them. Galu-Gu and Belu-Be, the two team members belonging to the highly rational, technological Bilusaludo (or Bilsard) species, hold the Houtua in contempt for their “primitive” lifestyle, but notice that their spear points are made of the advanced nanometal that the Bilsard (that’s easier to type) used 20,000 years before in their abortive attempt to create Mechagodzilla to save the Earth from Godzilla. The twins guide them to the source of the nanometal, which turns out to be a city-sized industrial complex that’s evolved and metastasized from the intelligent nanometal that Mechagodzilla was made of. Thus, they dub it Mechagodzilla City and make it their new base of operations. The Bilsard are confident that its superior tech will give them all the resources they need to kill the giant Godzilla Earth by scaling up the plan that killed the smaller Godzilla Filius.

Haruo, to his credit, has some doubts about all this. He was stupidly gung-ho in the first film, not at all likeable, but his defeat at the hands of Godzilla Earth has humbled him somewhat. He still believes that, since his initial plan was a success (however Pyrhhic), the basic idea of killing Godzilla to reclaim Earth for humanity can still work even against a bigger Godzilla. But he’s no longer blindly obsessed with that goal. He pauses to question his own motives, he takes responsibility for his failures, and he shows more consideration for his troops, asking them to join him only on a volunteer basis, which most of them do. It’s a major improvement. He also gets the inevitable romance with the token female soldier Yuko, who’s cast in a more conventional love-interest role this time around — which is not much of an improvement, though at least it gives her more to do.

The Bilsard, meanwhile, are quite gung-ho about the power of their technology to destroy Godzilla, to the point that the subordinate ones willingly let the city’s nanometal assimilate them, giving up their biological lives so their minds can boost Mechagodzilla City’s processing power. This leads to a heated debate where Haruo, Martin, and the humans question whether Mechagodzilla City will become a monster of its own and take over the planet after it destroys Godzilla. Galu-Gu and Belu-Be make it clear that they consider surrendering their flesh to technology to be a desirable goal, that they admire humanity’s achievement in “creating” Godzilla as something more powerful than themselves (or rather, creating the environmental damage that provoked the evolution of Godzilla as the ecosystem’s defense mechanism), and they think the only downside of Godzilla’s creation was humanity’s failure to control it. The Bilsard are happy to create and become a monster if it makes them smarter, more advanced, and more powerful. Yuko actually gets to be more than the love interest when she agrees with the Bilsard’s side of the argument over Haruo’s, at least insofar as the immediate crisis is concerned.

But the moral debate must be set aside when Godzilla awakens and begins to sense the city’s activity as it prepares the weapons for its attack on Godzilla. This requires them to launch their anti-Godzilla plan prematurely, with their weapons incomplete. This includes only three modified powersuits (called “Vultures”), which Haruo, Yuko, and Belu-Be take out to harry Godzilla with in order to lure him into the trap. As with the first film, Godzilla shows up only in the last third and the battle takes up most of the final act. The CG animation and design of Godzilla Earth don’t seem quite as clumsy as in the first film; maybe I’m just more used to it, or maybe it works better on this larger scale. Godzilla moves extremely slowly, but that makes sense for a creature so vast.

Anyway, their attempt to blow up Godzilla with his own disrupted internal energies eventually goes according to plan, but he doesn’t quite blow up, instead dissipating the energy as an immense quantity of heat, so that the attackers can’t get anywhere near him to continue the attack. Galu-Gu, as fanatically obsessed with destroying Godzilla as Haruo was in the first film, causes the nanometal in the Vultures to begin assimilating their pilots to give them the heat resistance they need. Belu-Be gives in willingly, but Haruo and Yuko resist, and Haruo is somehow able to fight it off (probably due to the moth-dust healing balm he was given by the Houtua between movies), but Yuko isn’t. Haruo is contacted by his friend Metphies (pronounced “Metophius”), the religious, androgynous Exif alien from the first film, who’s played a background role in this one (despite his sinister agenda revealed at the end of Part 1). Metphies tells Haruo that the only way to stop the nanometal from consuming Yuko is to destroy Galu-Gu’s command center, shutting down all the nanometal — which means the only way Haruo can save Yuko is to give up his vendetta for good and allow Godzilla to live. Of course, that’s exactly what he does, and the freed Godzilla destroys Mechagodzilla City — but is it too late for Yuko? We’ll have to wait for Part 3, Godzilla: Planet Eater, due in November.

This is a definite improvement on Part 1, with Haruo’s character growth making him more sympathetic, and with somewhat better characterization all around, though most of the supporting cast still isn’t developed that much. The twins provide a bit more of a female presence this time, and the characters actually have some limited wardrobe changes. There’s still not much of a sense of scale to the Godzilla battle, though; he is placed against the context of Mechagodzilla City rather than just generic woods, and we had earlier seen how vast that city was next to humans, but the city is still too alien a setting to let us really feel the scale of it all.

I found the Bilsard to be too much of a cliche, the alien culture that’s hyper-logical and scornful of emotion, but it’s interesting that they still basically share the same goal as the human protagonists even though they have deep philosophical differences in how to achieve it. And I’m a bit concerned that apparently both of humanity’s alien allies seem to have harmful agendas, given the first film’s intimations that Metphies worshipped kaiju as sacred destroyers and orchestrated Godzilla Earth’s awakening. Metphies seems helpful enough here, but he gets the Bilsards’ help in repairing some supposedly harmless religious trinket that is probably not harmless. He also reveals to Haruo the name of the kaiju that destroyed the Exif homeworld, a cosmic force of destruction far greater than Godzilla — and it was easy to guess who that would be even before we heard the name in the post-credits stinger. Given the implication that the Houtua are connected to Mothra — and given the cryptic references they made to “the Baby Chick,” a term which (if translated correctly) may suggest Rodan — we may be in for the same monster team-up in Planet Eater that Legendary Pictures is delivering in Godzilla: King of the Monsters next year.

So after a slow and disappointing start to the trilogy, we get a stronger middle. Hopefully the filmmakers will continue to build on what the first two films have established about the characters and the world and make Planet Eater the richest and deepest of the three. If they do, the trilogy as a whole may prove worthwhile after all.

Thoughts on GODZILLA: PLANET OF THE MONSTERS (spoilers)

January 18, 2018 3 comments

Godzilla is back, and this time, it’s anime! Yup, somebody finally had the idea to put those two iconic threads of Japanese entertainment together. Or rather, they kind of had to. Apparently Legendary Pictures’ Godzilla license means that Toho can’t make another live-action Godzilla movie until after Legendary’s next two films, so a Shin Godzilla follow-up won’t be possible until at least 2021. But the deal doesn’t cover animation, so Toho was able to continue the franchise in that form.

Godzilla: Planet of the Monsters (Gojira: Kaiju Wakusei) is the first of a new Godzilla trilogy from Toho Animation and Polygon Pictures, the first time the big G has ever been interpreted in animated form in Japan, although there have been two American animated Godzilla series in the ’70s and the ’90s. Thanks to Netflix being a production partner, I was able to watch the film from home on the day of its worldwide release, and thus I can bring you a prompt review. (Some sources translate the title as Monster Planet, but Netflix has it listed as Planet of the Monsters — perhaps to resonate with Godzilla: King of the Monsters, the title of both the 1956 Americanization of the original film and the upcoming 2019 Legendary Pictures sequel, give or take an exclamation point. It also lists it as “Episode 1” of “A Netflix Original Series,” since it’s the first of a trilogy.) I watched it in Japanese with subtitles, but Netflix defaults to the English dub.

The film is computer-animated, but apparently cel-shaded 3D animation has advanced to the point where it looks indistinguishable from well-done 2D hand animation, although the characters still move like 3D computer models, which is a combination that’s a bit off-putting to me. But I got used to it as the film went on. One drawback of the CGI approach is that the characters spend the entire movie in their spacesuits, with no change of clothes/digital model until the post-credits scene.

At first, there’s no indication that this is a Godzilla movie. We open on a large starship where Captain Sakaki Haruo is rebelling against a plan to leave the elderly passengers behind to colonize a hostile planet, insisting it’s just a scam to rid the ship of its weakest population and leave more resources for the rest. Haruo’s grandfather (or just an old man he respects, since the Japanese use the “grandfather/grandmother” title for all elders) talks him down and he’s arrested, but he watched in horror through his cell window as the shuttle blows up in the atmosphere.

We then get a title montage with narration explaining the backstory. In “the final summer of the 20th century” (by which they probably meant 1999, unless they’re calendrical purists), kaiju began to emerge and attack humanity, with the largest of them, Godzilla, appearing in 2030. (Apparently there’s a Japanese prequel novel, Monster Apocalypse, that tells this backstory.) Godzilla proved unstoppable, human civilization was devastated, and two different species of humanoid aliens, both refugees from their own cataclysms, came to Earth to offer help: the Exif, pale androgynous humanoids offering comfort through their religious beliefs, and the Bilsards (or Bilusaludo in the Netflix subtitles), a stockier people with gray featherlike hair and eyebrows, who make a failed attempt to fight Godzilla with Mechagodzilla in exchange for colonization privileges on Earth. Eventually, all three must flee Earth together in the starship Aratrum. Over the ensuing 22 years, the refugees must deal with deprivation and starvation as their search for a new planet continues to be fruitless.

Haruo grows up feeling that humanity has lost its pride and dignity because they fled Godzilla rather than staying to fight, and in prison he develops an anonymous plan to fight Godzilla by identifying the source of the deflector shield Godzilla’s body generates to protect it from attack, the key to its invulnerability. (Reminiscent of the “post-Crisis” explanation of Superman’s invulnerability as the result of his solar-charged Kryptonian cells generating a skin-tight force field, which was why he stopped being invulnerable when Kryptonite or red sunlight disrupted the charge.) If this can be identified by the “noise” it generates, EMP generators can be fired into Godzilla to amplify the “noise” and destroy it. (I figure “noise” must be a bad translation, but I double-checked, and it’s in both the subtitled and dubbed versions. Incidentally, it’s an interesting experience to watch a scene with both the English dub and English subtitles on simultaneously, since the former is written to fit the lip sync and thus can differ considerably from the latter.) Haruo is aided in this project by an Exif priest called Metphies (as his name is spelled in shipboard display graphics, though “Metophius” would better match the sound), who believes Haruo has a destiny to fulfill. When the commanding council realizes the refugees’ only hope of survival is to go back to Earth, they have no choice but to release Haruo on probation to advise them on how to destroy Godzilla.

The ship has a near-instantaneous subspace jump drive, yet somehow it jumps unpredictably in time so that it’s effectively much slower than light, with millennia passing on Earth in just two shipboard decades. They get back to Earth 19,200 years after they left, finding it covered in forests and dense fog. Godzilla is still there, and the atmosphere makes their drones useless. Haruo advises that the only option is to send down fully 600 of the ship’s 4000 personnel to wage a ground campaign to gather the sensor data they need to destroy Godzilla, and we get a Gilligan Cut from some shipboard authority guy saying it’s out of the question to the mission actually being launched, with no explanation for how he was convinced, how personnel were selected and trained, or any of it.

Once the team gets down, they are soon attacked by dragonlike avians evidently related to Godzilla (called Servums behind the scenes, but not in dialogue), damaging them so badly that their commander, Leland, calls a retreat, saying they’ll settle on the Moon and gather resources from Earth. It’s actually a more reasonable-sounding plan than Haruo’s macho determination to stay and fight for what’s theirs, but Metphies points out to Leland that their only path to regrouping and getting everyone off-planet requires following something very close to Haruo’s plan anyway, just without the active Godzilla-hunting. But Metphies tells Haruo that other worlds have been destroyed by Godzilla-like creatures, and “some” believe they’re a punishment the universe sends against hubristic species, so that Godzilla will surely seek them out rather than let them escape.

Indeed, Godzilla finally shows up 53 minutes into the 88-minute film, and it’s pretty much nonstop action from there. Leland sacrifices himself to get the data Haruo needs, Metphies is next in command, he puts Haruo in charge, and Haruo orders the big attack and does the whole screaming relentless Japanese movie hero bit, and eventually his plan works and they blow up Godzilla — but then their science guy wonders how Godzilla was so unchanged over 20,000 years and if maybe that was the offspring of the original… and then the whole nearby mountain erupts and turns out to be the original Godzilla, now grown to preposterously large size, and that’s the cliffhanger to Part 1. (Apparently the big one is called Godzilla Earth, and the offspring was Godzilla Filius. Which translates from Latin as “Son of Godzilla,” which means they’ve been fighting Minilla this whole time!) And we discover that this is what Metphies was trying to provoke all along, using Haruo’s attack as bait to draw out the “King of Destruction” whom he worships. Oops! (I suspect his name was influenced by Mephistopheles.)

The reason my summary of the last 1/3 of the movie is so sparse is because there’s not really a lot of story. I’ve come to expect anime to be smarter and deeper than Japanese live-action productions, on the whole, but this movie is pretty superficial. The first half is mostly setup and the second half is mostly action, and neither one has much in the way of character development. Haruo is the only character whose point of view we really get to know that well, and he’s just so stubbornly gung-ho and confrontational, fight and win at all costs, that he’s one-note and hard to sympathize with. To anyone who’s familiar with past Godzilla movies, it’s easy to predict that his conviction of humanity’s right to dominate and possess the Earth will turn out to be misguided and he’ll be struck down for his hubris. So he’s really not someone I could root for, since I could guess he’d turn out to be the goat rather than the hero, and there wasn’t really anyone else to sympathize with. A few other characters have agendas that either reinforce Haruo’s arc (e.g. Metphies) or create obstacles for it (e.g. Leland), but they don’t get much development. There’s also Tani Yuko, a soldier who’s basically there just to be the token female, though she mercifully isn’t gratuitously sexualized in any way. She does get one scene with Haruo where she wonders if the old people on the shuttle were deliberately murdered, with Haruo not wanting to believe the leaders are that corrupt — which is pretty interesting, considering that Haruo’s the one who staged a violent revolt to try to stop the shuttle launch. But otherwise, she’s just kind of there. Overall, the movie is much more interested in military porn and hardware and combat action than it is in character exploration, and offhand I can’t think of a single moment of humor in the film.

Visually, the Godzillas and the Servums are kind of weird-looking. They aren’t rendered in a cel-shaded 2D style like the human and humanoid characters, instead having a complex 3D surface texture, but they don’t look photorealistic either, or even like the kind of stylized-realistic 3D characters you see in Pixar or Dreamworks movies, say. It’s a weird sort of uncanny valley between them, like moving charcoal paintings or something, and it’s off-putting and visually unclear. It’s certainly a novel form of animation, but I don’t think it looks good. Maybe it would have helped if they were more colorful instead of being pretty uniformly gray. But I think the problem is that they’re just too detailed and textured. Part of what makes cartooning and conventional animation effective is that it’s simplified, that it distills things down to their essential outlines and features. A design as cluttered as these kaiju is hard for the eye to make sense of when it’s in motion.

Another problem with the film’s depiction of Godzilla is that, aside from the brief flashbacks in the opening montage, all the action takes place in the wilderness. Godzilla isn’t stomping through a city or an industrial area, just moving through woods and mountains. So while you can tell he’s quite tall in comparison to the forest, there’s still not that great a sense of his scale from a human perspective. There are humans fighting him, but mostly from the air, which also doesn’t help to establish a relatable sense of scale. And just in general, it’s a fairly dull backdrop for the action, without a lot of visual interest. Some of the best Godzilla battle scenes in past movies are ones set against distinctive landmarks — prominent downtown districts, historic castles, amusement parks, bridges, things like that. If Godzilla’s smashing through a setting, you want it to be a setting that has a personality, a strong sense of place. The more striking and unusual the environment is, the greater the sense that something unique and valuable is being destroyed, and thus the higher the stakes feel. So having a whole movie where all the action is in a rather dull-looking wilderness is just not taking the best advantage of the potential of animation to create striking vistas. If they were going to make a Godzilla anime set in the future, why not in some vast futuristic cityscape stretching clear to the horizon, or maybe even a megastructure in space, somehow?

And really, why start the story where they did? Why pack all that deep, complex backstory of the fall of Earth and the arrival of aliens and the failure of Mechagodzilla into a 3-minute, 45-second flashback and a tie-in novel rather than making that the story of the first film and saving this story for the sequel? Just one more respect in which this film feels superficial and unsatisfying.

All in all, then, the first Godzilla anime is underwhelming, especially as a followup to the very impressive Shin Godzilla. It looks fairly good in some respects, less so in others, and it’s well-made and competently acted, and it has a good score (by Takayuki Hattori, composer for Godzilla vs. SpaceGodzilla and Godzilla 2000: Millennium), although without any reference to Akira Ifukube’s classic Godzilla themes. But it doesn’t have much in the way of substance, or a lot going on beyond a pretty straightforward, one-track story. The more I reflect on it, the more disappointed I am with it. I just hope the remaining two installments in the trilogy do better.