Anime

Godzilla: Planet of the Monsters (2017) / Godzilla: City on the Edge of Battle (2018) / Godzilla: The Planet Eater (2018)
Polygon Pictures / Toho Animation
Director: Shizuno Kōbun, Seshita Hiroyuki
Also discussed: Pacific Rim: The Black (2021-22), Godzilla Singular Point (2021), Skull Island (2023), Gamera Rebirth (2023).


Reminder: This blog contains plot spoilers, possibly in the main body as well as in the plot summary section. Read on at your own risk!


No sooner had Shin Godzilla (2016) been released than Toho announced their plans for an anime Godzilla movie for the following year. Or, as it turned out, the first part of a movie trilogy. It was released in Japanese cinemas in late 2017 and distributed internationally via Netflix early in 2018, and the other two parts followed suit later that year.

This wasn’t the first time the world had seen an animated Godzilla, but it was the first time a Japanese studio had done the animating. (At least, as far as we know. It wasn’t unheard of for Japanese companies to be subcontracted to do uncredited work on American animated TV series.) Hanna-Barbera’s Godzilla (1978-79) and Tri-Star’s co-produced Godzilla: The Series (1998-2000) had both been hamstrung by the requirements of American broadcasting standards and practices that no deaths should be shown, which severely limited what could be done in a story about Godzilla. Toho weren’t subject to such limitations. They turned to the Japan-based Polygon Pictures, one of the oldest digital animation studios in the world, to create a full-blooded Godzilla anime.

It’s quite surprising it should have taken until this recently for Toho to present an animated take on Godzilla. Not that it would necessarily be cheaper for them than staging live action tokusatsu – the quality of animation on display here is high, but even the flattest, most basic animation is pretty labour intensive and therefore costly. The particular benefits of animation as far as directors are concerned are that it gives them absolute control over what happens on screen and that it’s easier to realise fantasy imagery. Kaiju eiga, with their heavy reliance on special effects scenes that can easily go wrong and require expensive remounts and retakes, ought to be an ideal fit for animation.

The chief complaints about this anime trilogy from the kaiju fan community are that it’s dull and that the changes it makes to popular monsters are too much. As far as that first complaint goes, these aren’t overlong films, but they certainly do drag a bit. But the real issue is that they focus more on character interaction than on kaiju fights. It’s an undeniable fact that a large number of kaiju fans just aren’t that interested in anything other than slambang action. There are action scenes here, but they all unfold quite slowly and, barring the human participants, nobody’s really moving around very much. In fact, the denouements of the second and third films positively depend on the kaiju involved being stuck in place. Anyone expecting a lively Shōwa-era-style wrestling match will inevitably be disappointed.

As far as the reimaginings of old kaiju are concerned, I’m not going to fault the writers for trying something new, and I think what they did here is interesting and a natural extension of the original concepts. For decades, successive filmmakers have tried to outdo each other by presenting The Biggest Godzilla Yet, inflating him either to compete with ever taller modern buildings or simply for the sake of it. This trilogy takes the idea to an absurd extreme, presenting a Godzilla the size of a mountain. And, as he’s sometimes written as a kind of vengeful avatar of nature or an animate natural disaster, why not write a story in which he’s taken over the Earth’s entire ecosystem? Poor old Mothra, the true defender of Earth, is in abeyance and appears only as an egg and the silhouette of a moth in Haruo’s mind. The humans left behind, who’ve developed a kind of symbiosis with Mothra in order to survive in Godzilla’s world, have effectively become the new Shobijin, as suggested by the motif of the twins. This neatly echoes the suggestion in Godzilla vs Mothra (1992) that the Shobijin themselves were members of a once advanced pre-human civilisation.

Mechagodzilla, which has more than once represented the folly of over-reliance on technology, here becomes a literal military-industrial complex that threatens to assimilate its creators and overrun the world, in direct competition with Godzilla. Perhaps it’s as much a comment on consumerism as on technology now. And how better to make King Ghidorah, previously the tool of alien invaders, even more alien than by turning him into a monster from another dimension, not even subject to the same laws of physics as the terrestrial characters? There’s something genuinely eerie, something very deeply wrong about the scene in which he manifests and his heads snake down from their three separate portals. (It’s never mentioned, but it does also beg the question: what’s going to happen when he tries to drag Godzilla back through those three holes with him?)

In a reversal, Ghidorah is no longer the puppets of his alien associates but their master. The Exif obviously stand in for the classic Xiliens, but the Bilusaludo (this trilogy’s “black hole aliens”) seem to have taken on their mania for rationality and uniformity. Instead, and in opposition to the Bilusaludo’s science-worship, the Exif are religious emissaries, with Ghidorah as their nightmarish god. It’s a good twist on the old material.

The very end of the trilogy looks like the most militant expression yet of the environmental message familiar from other kaiju eiga. No doubt it’s the explicitly science-fictional setting that makes this possible. Godzilla, an apocalypse of mankind’s own making, has overturned the natural order and, in order to survive, humanity – in the form of the Houtua – has had to revert to a pre-industrial lifestyle and live with Godzilla as best they can. Once Haruo comes to understand the part his generation’s technology played in that apocalypse and the threat it poses now, he sacrifices it all to protect the Houtua’s way of life. Although this is couched in terms of a fantasy set thousands of years in the future, it feels like an uncomfortable comment on the climate catastrophe looming on our own horizon.

All in all, although this is by no means an edge-of-the-seat experience, I don’t think the anime trilogy is the damp squib it’s sometimes described as. The ideas are bold and substantial even if the plot is leisurely. The animation style is easy on the eye – it looks like a blend of CG objects and creatures and rotoscoped people, with smooth character movement. The main fault I’d pick with it is that, like so many other science-fictional anime (but then, like so much other science fiction generally), it assumes a future in which everyone has a military rank.


The anime trilogy was soon followed by a flurry of animated kaiju miniseries, all of them also distributed via Netflix – most of them, in fact, conceived as Netflix original series. (I’ve seen it suggested that the trilogy itself was first planned as a miniseries, which might make more sense of its ambling pace.) Legendary Pictures got in first with Pacific Rim: The Black, also employing Polygon Pictures as the animators. This series, which takes the films’ concepts into some unusual places, follows two teenagers with a training Jaeger as they search for their parents across a Kaiju-infested Australian outback. Meanwhile, Toho went to the Japanese animation studios Bones and Orange for a miniseries with a more traditional visual style, Godzilla Singular Point. This presents several familiar kaiju and some new ones in a near-future world that’s never heard of Godzilla before. The plot is a little convoluted and features a surprisingly prominent role for Jet Jaguar (the superhero robot first seen in Godzilla vs Megalon (1973)). Legendary struck again in 2023 with Skull Island, a Monsterverse tie-in with 2-D animation from Texas-based Powerhouse Animation Studios, a pretty basic plot and an underwhelming script. Also in 2023, Kadokawa resurrected Gamera in a six-part series animated by their own subsidiary ENGI, Gamera Rebirth. Featuring a similar CG/rotoscoped style to the Godzilla trilogy, the point of this miniseries seems largely to have been to pit Gamera against grimdark redesigned versions of all his Shōwa-era adversaries except Barugon.

It's notable that, while Godzilla Singular Point, like the film trilogy, features adult protagonists, the other three all revolve around child characters. It’s probably no coincidence that those three are also the Netflix original series – I suspect that Netflix subscribes to the pervasive belief that animation is something that ought to be marketed at children. Still, I think the recent burst of animated kaiju activity bears out my suggestion that this genre can benefit from this production method.

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