‘Godzilla Minus Zero’ review: An earth-shattering return

Godzilla Minus Zero continues to prove Takashi Yamazaki’s brilliance.

Godzilla Minus One created such a cultural impact, both critically and commercially, that the news of a sequel was as exciting as it was worrying. Because how on earth to create a follow-up that achieves even a fraction of what the original (of this era) mastered? Well, like other franchise sequels, it gets darker, meaner, and lays it on a bit thick. The effect? Visceral and bone-rattling. Godzilla Minus Zero is yet another triumph for director Takashi Yamazaki.

Written, directed, and with visual effects by Yamazaki, Godzilla Minus Zero might not have the same specific “it” factor as Minus One. However, it still ups the ante while keeping the story grounded in the socio-political thematic core the best of the series has always operated in. The human story is less personal this time around, even with the entire Shikishima family given the spotlight.

Instead, it takes a greater look at servitude for one’s country, the impact of war and the loss and parentless children it leaves in its wake, and the devastation that comes with the threat of nuclear war and weapons of mass destruction inconceivable to even the brightest minds. It is, in every way it needs to be, quintessential Godzilla that specifically harkens back to Ishirō Honda’s pinnacle 1954 film. A black-and-white tale of would-be horrors born from mass loss, doused in vibrancy and unsettling screeches that scorch the earth as mightily as Godzilla’s attacks.

Godzilla Minus Zero delivers explosive action and creature designs.

Two years have passed since the first film, and Godzilla Minus Zero finds the Shikishima family living as peacefully as they can in the wake of such widespread tragedy. Kōichi is no longer a kamikaze pilot and is now settled with his wife, Noriko (Minami Hamabe), who bears remnants of Godzilla’s attack on Ginza, in which she nearly lost her life. Their adopted daughter, Akiko, spends most of her days at the local orphanage, run by the family’s neighbor Sumiko, who looks after children displaced by war and Godzilla’s wreckage. Their life, from the outset, seems happy. But serious unrest emerges, and it all comes to the surface after a mysterious, rampaging monster attacks Matsumoto City.

Kōichi is all too ready to offer his servitude to the cause, and Noriko is beginning to mutate from exposure to the G-Cells in the attack. Both still operate under the duress of believing they’re out of time. Their attempts to flee are derailed by their inability to walk away from a home under siege by an untenable force warped by nature’s destruction. And it takes little to guide them back into playing the roles of self-sacrificial heroes, besieged by the tragedy surrounding them.

Credit where credit is due, Godzilla Minus Zero really sells the horror. From an early fight where Kōichi sees the airborne terror of innocent victims who simply were in the wrong place at the wrong time, to Noriko’s empathy guiding her to help the survivors of Matsumoto City, their desire to help is driven by the palpable destruction they witness. Soon, they’re working with Kenji Noda, scientist Kanji Murakami, and meteorologist Makoto Aoyama to take down the new beast, Ghidorah. And, in doing so, they must somehow lure in Godzilla, who regenerated following his supposed death in Minus One.

The kaiju spectacle elicits a sense of childlike wonder.

The hows and whys aren’t as important as the monsters’ impact on screen. Sinewy and monstrous, this version of King Ghidorah is a superlative entry to the franchise. From his first chaos-inducing arrival to a breathless, aerial display of might and a grotesque transformation that had people audibly gasping (it was me), the arrival of the monster is gorgeously brought to life, garish and repulsive in how it attacks.

There’s a genuine sense of wonder in watching these supernatural creatures come to life. They’re larger than life and impossible to conceive yet rendered with such tangibility. Each force of their yells or blows, the carnage of their lightning bolts, arrives with a visceral sense of scale. It’s hard not to feel like a kid. And not in the way that Marvel plays on nostalgia, speaking to us like we’re all adolescents. Instead, it taps into the childlike wonder of questioning what is happening and how a filmmaker could create something so vast, tangible, and fake.

And while Godzilla isn’t quite the star of the film, he’s given his own spotlight. In one particular sequence that seems to hark back to films such as Terminator 2: Judgment Day and Akira, we watch, in an imagined scenario, the damage Godzilla could wreak if weaponized against the U.S. as an act of revenge following the horrifying effects of Hiroshima. And it’s devastating, making a longstanding core element of the franchise literal as we watch this monster born from human-made destruction and violence reap the same violence that bore it. Turned and directed at the nuclear weapon that the nuclear waste created in post-war Japan.

While certain character moments fall flat, the effect as a whole is all-consuming.

Maybe it’s a little too on the nose, spelling out what is usually inferred as text. But there’s no denying he haunting effects of the images, proving Yamazaki’s eye for monstrous creations reaches far beyond the scales and rivulets of blood that pour from Godzilla. He has a knack for seeing the rippling, skin-warping consequences of war on the ground level, too.

Yamazaki’s work is immense, giving even more edge to a story with no shortage of claws and teeth. He conjures visions of such violent grandeur, eliciting the same enticing glee as watching the creatures of Guillermo del Toro and Hideaki Anno come to life, while keeping a steady foot in the design and pacing of classic monster flicks.

The human characters themselves remain relatively one-note, even though there’s clear effort to (rightfully) give Noriko more to do. Ryunosuke Kamiki continues to perform best in big gestures rather than subtle work. Hidetaka Yoshioka and his glorious head of hair have enough charisma to blanket even the thinnest plot contrivances. New cast members Masami Nagasawa and Min Tanaka add layers of trauma. Each carries their own losses as they fight the monsters and give humanity a fighting chance.

The bottom line.

But, more than anything, Godzilla Minus Zero sets its sights on visceral impact. From the punctuated, pulsating warpath of the blues that signify Godzilla’s atomic breath, to the way Ghidorah tears into Godzilla’s flesh, or even the propulsive, chill-inducing notes of Naoki Satō’s score, the film sucks us in. No, not all the story beats work, but it largely succeeds in making us feel it and locking us in as we watch.

Godzilla Minus Zero is yet another triumph for Yamazaki. With an abundance of large-scale design and immersive VFX, it’s a glorious take on monster-movie madness. With just enough heart to give each plummeting, stomach-churning battle weight, the film embraces excess and delivers a high-impact, resonant, beautifully constructed work of art.

Godzilla Minus Zero is out now in theaters. Watch the trailer below.

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Images courtesy of TOHO and GKIDS.