Godzilla
Not a monster romp. A sober film about nuclear annihilation, made nine years after.
Japanese monster and effects cinema. Suits, miniatures, and a postwar wound underneath.
Kaiju means strange beast. Tokusatsu means special filming. Together they cover Japanese monster films and the practical effects tradition that produced them.
Godzilla (1954) does not belong on this site's usual shelf. It is a sober film about nuclear annihilation, released nine years after Hiroshima and eight months after American testing at Bikini irradiated the crew of the Lucky Dragon 5. Ishirō Honda meant every frame of it.
Sequels aimed at children, Toho's expanding monster roster, Daiei's cut-price Gamera films, and the hero shows that turned tokusatsu into a television industry.
Eiji Tsuburaya's suit-and-miniature work is the through line. It looks handmade now, which is much more appealing than the CGI that replaced it.
Godzilla (1954), in Japanese, not the recut American version with Raymond Burr. Then Matango for how dark Honda could go.
Not a monster romp. A sober film about nuclear annihilation, made nine years after.
The most-watched Godzilla film in Japan, and essentially an ad-industry farce with two giant monsters.
The film where Godzilla becomes a hero. Three of Toho's monsters team up against a golden space dragon.
Eleven monsters, no restraint. Honda cashing every chip at once.
The psychedelic pollution one. Godzilla fights a smog monster, and the film goes completely strange.
The most charming of Toho's roster, and openly anti-colonial about it.
Toho's first colour kaiju. A supersonic pterosaur levels a city with its wingblasts.
Two giant humanoid brothers, one good, one savage, tear up Japan. Weirdly beloved, and Brad Pitt's favourite.
Daiei's cut-price answer to Godzilla. A flying turtle. Children loved it.
Honda's mushroom-people film. Far bleaker than anything else Toho made.
Bleeding skies, a forehead-splitting alien, and an ending with no comfort in it whatsoever.