Godzilla Was Misunderstood
May 14, 2015
Classic movie monsters held an alluring fascination for me throughout my elementary school years. Though it couldn’t be said I was a “die-hard’ fan, mainly because I wasn’t allowed to be. Scary masks, posters or figurines might have possessed me to become evil incarnate, (as feared by my dear mum). How could she have known I wouldn’t need any of those things to become a terror? However, despite my lack of merchandising, never was the opportunity passed up to see Dracula, The Wolfman, Kong or the Black Lagoon fish guy in all their black and white glory. But my personal favorite was Godzilla the King of the Monsters. Giant fire-breathing lizard stomping around, destroying everything in his path, lots of Japanese folk running for their lives—what’s not to like.
Years later, drawn back by nostalgia, I found myself re-viewing those classic films that had once thrilled me to no end. In doing so I came to two distinct conclusions: 1. Stuff you watch and think is cool as a kid kinda sucks when you’re an adult, and 2. Godzilla was misunderstood. This realization dawned on me with the understanding that I’d been looking at it from the wrong angle. It’s hard to explain, so let’s try and put things into perspective. After all you can’t understand a man (or monster) till you’ve walked a mile in his moccasins… or in this case a big rubber suit.
Can you imagine (I know Bobbi G has the trademark, I’m just borrowing it this one time) - you’re floating effortlessly in a swimming pool. Most of your body is submerged beneath the cool, crisp water. The only parts of you visible to anyone who might pass by are your face and wittle pink toes. After a long, hot day your only desire is to bask in the warm afternoon sun and enjoy the feel of water all around you. Your eyes are closed, and maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll drift off into a nice tranquil…”Son of a…”
The moment is lost; your peaceful calm is ruined as you are struck by some unseen object, which explodes on your chest. The sudden jolt forces you beneath the surface; you gasp and take in a lungfull of water. Disoriented, you crack your head on the side of the pool as you try to regain the surface. Emerging from the pool, your head and chest hurt, your eyes are blurry, you cough and try to hack out the chlorine. Angrily, you storm out across the lawn in the direction from which you think the assault may have come. Tromping out across the grass, rubbing your bleach-burned eyes, and hoping to catch a glimpse of some damned kid with a bucket load of water balloons. “When I catch you, you little…” you yell and fume into the emptiness that is before you. Your assailants are apparently long gone, or are they?
You never stopped to contemplate or give a second thought about the little piss ants that you’ve killed helpless thousands of in your blind rampage through their metropolises. Could it be that maybe they were testing their advanced weaponry on an uninhabited island? Of course, YOU were the island in this case. However, they were as oblivious to your existence as you were to theirs until you rose from the pool in a rage.
Gee, that story sounds vaguely familiar. Oh yeah-GODZILLA! They hit him with a friggin’ two ton atomic bomb and then wondered why he destroyed Tokyo. Did anyone ever stop to think, that when he came out of the ocean, that he expected to see some giant lizard kid running off laughing? No, he comes ashore and he is immediately considered a threat and is hit with everything the military can throw at him. Who is the real monster here? Wasn’t he minding his own business when they hit him with the A-bomb? Did anyone ever try to tell him they were sorry?
Sadly, this is the human condition. We drop a bomb (not literally, in this case) on our fellow man, and when they become confused, upset, or angry we continue to fire away. Using insults, slander, and gossip we turn them into a monster. Never, in our feeble little minds considering the fact that we started the whole thing. Never considering that it may be us who is the monster.
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