Godzilla is many things. A war metaphor for nuclear destruction. A monster. A toy. A parent. A defender. A franchise. An Oscar winner. Over 70 years, Godzilla has become instantly recognizable, a creature so powerful-yet-beloved that merely seeing its silhouette will bring memories, images, and that memorable theme song, rushing to the surface.
At this point, it transcends films. Chibi Godzilla tells you not to talk or be a nuisance at the cinema before your movie. Godzilla is best friends with Hamtaro. It teaches road safety on occasion. It's dancing it out in Fortnite. It's a mascot that transcends its initial intent to become a vessel for whatever is needed at the time, emboldened by its past that interweaves Godzilla into the Japanese psyche but malleable enough to be both charming and cutthroat in equal measure.
Godzilla may be many things, but stripping back all these layers and interpretations on the character over the years, what is it today? Godzilla is ubiquitous. It’s what makes Godzilla recognizable, and allows it to transcend any singular definition in order to be everything, everywhere, all at once, whenever deemed necessary.
In Shibuya Parco, there are two museum spaces open for exhibition. The smaller one, Gallery X on the basement floor of the building, is where Kojima Productions recently celebrated five years of Death Stranding. On the fourth floor, running until December 16th, is the fourth edition of GODZILLA THE ART, the latest in a series of curated exhibitions where artists from around the world are tasked with reinterpreting the creature with their own style and image of the character in mind.
While Godzilla is a distinctly Japanese character in origin, its backstory and context has constantly shifted as it made its way around the world. When the original film was dubbed and re-edited in other languages, the story and context was changed in the process. For the US, a whole new character was added to bring an American focus into the story and remove some of the guilt of a nuclear metaphor barely a decade on from the country using the weapon on Japan towards the end of World War II. Dubbing changes occured also in countries like Italy.
By the time the US recreated the creature for their own films, the scale of the monster and militaristic response to its destruction versus the typically civilian-driven casualty and response seen in Japanese films is telling of each country’s individual properties.
But Godzilla is more than its destructive tendencies. Fighting other creatures showcased its strength but also fierce protectiveness when it has its own offspring, while the man-in-suit construction of the creature and a respect for the special effect work boosted by its public appearances to entertain kids humanized Godzilla. Depending on how you saw it, you saw power, strength, friendship, love, fear, all at once.
It should come as no surprise, then, that entering the Parco exhibit designed to represent and reinterpret the creature, we witness Godzilla as a whole array of things simultaneously. The poster render of Godzilla is sharp, striking, and somewhat terrifying. This render is actually a photo of a sculpture made from reinforced plastics and airbrushed to give the familiar silhouette of Godzilla’s offensive body a more angular, angry demeanor, instilling fear even into a familiar face and posture. Similar has been achieved with a sculpture for King Ghidorah whom Godzilla appears opposite with during the exhibit.
Yet is stands alongside a piece by the artist Stickymonger that integrates the creature into the life of a showa-era schoolgirl. The suited-up monster looks like a loving partner to the young girl as they interlock arms underneath the umbrella, with Mothra, Mecha Godzilla and Godzilla’s child hovering alongside. It's just a part of the fabric of life for this girl.
With each piece, you see a part of the creator and their lives. On one wall, Japanese tapestries show Godzilla and Mechagodzilla as though they’re screenshots from the movie where they’re about to use their atomic breath, but a small note confirms, these weren’t from any movie. Instead, inspired by the terror that the creatures instilled into the artist's younger self, this is what the mind inspired, recreated and printed on these scrolls as a reminder in how strong effects combined with striking designs can transform primitive techniques into something that feels, in the moment, so real and terrifying.
Godzilla the Art, in turn, is a show about the feelings generated by the creature as it is about them. This is about using art not to capture who TOHO say Godzilla is (although they are involved with the gallery, so don’t assume they have nothing to do with this), but about the visceral images of joy and fear in equal turn they can conjure as both metaphor and goofy, safety-first man-in-a-suit.
There was one other recent instance of this exact thing happening, in a much more official capacity: Godzilla Fes. This yearly anniversary celebration of Godzilla in Hibiya is a moment for the creature to be remembered, and for fans old and young to celebrate. You’ll have suit meet-and-greets, but you’ll also have staff who worked on the film doing talk shows clearly more targeted to the older demographic. There’s a pop-up shop of exclusive goods, and the whole thing is rounded out with an all-new short film made using the classic techniques of miniatures and suits rather than CG. It’s a love letter between old and new, brought together for an ideal representation of how Godzilla is everything it needs to be in a modern context.
You could see the fear being instilled in poster displays of old movies or in clips. But in equal measure, puppets of the likes of King Ghidorah were not only on display, they were operational. The youngest fans could make Ghidorah fly, or Mothra flap its wings. The beaming joy on these little kids’ faces is everything that needs to be said. They may have some fear on first seeing them, but they’re ultimately not going to hurt these creatures. They have control, and in this context they’re not the mammoth creatures from the screen but toys whose fate and future stories are entirely in their control.
Godzilla is an icon. Its all the things you heard before, but ultimately, the fact it is are not confined to a single definition makes Godzilla memorable in 100 ways, then a further 100 ways in which they can be represented. It's a childish scrawl or a fearful roar. It's dancing the griddy or destroying a building. Godzilla is everything it needs to be.
Editor's note: For the sake of clarification, Godzilla is referred to often in this article as "it" as the closest approximation for the term used to describe the monsters from the franchise in Japan as opposed to the masculine and feminine depictions of western adaptations.
