All the way back in the 1950s, Godzilla began as a metaphor for nuclear weapons. The horrors that the giant lizard could wreak on downtown Tokyo were nothing compared to the atrocities that mankind could inflict on itself. Many decades and dozens of films later, the franchise has managed to evolve and encompass new real-world parallels without straying too far from its original message.

The 2016 film Shin Godzilla was recently re-released to theaters, enjoying an expanded North American market fresh off the heels of 2023’s blockbuster hit Godzilla Minus One. Shin Godzilla dedicated much of its runtime to a satire of the Japanese government’s response to the Fukushima nuclear accident in 2011. Nearly ten years later, it’s hard to believe that directors Hideaki Anno and Shinji Higuchi’s work could have another timely parallel on their hands in the COVID-19 pandemic.

The narrative largely centers around Rando Yaguchi (Hiroki Hasegawa), a Deputy Chief Cabinet Secretary in the Japanese government. The Coast Guard responds to news reports of an abandoned yacht in Tokyo Bay, and blood pouring into the Aqua-Line, though the government remained skeptical of anything nefarious. Only Yaguchi and a few others in the crowded cabinet meeting take the threat of a creature causing the chaos seriously.

Much of the first act of Shin Godzilla plays like a political satire. Godzilla wreaks havoc on Tokyo while the politicians shuttle from meeting to meeting, only to decide that the correct course of action requires more meetings. Whenever somebody manages to cut through the red tape, either the Japanese or American government demands a swift cover-up. The citizens are routinely lied to about the danger that Godzilla presents. Only when Yaguchi forms an off-site group to focus solely on defeating Godzilla does anything productive actually happen.

Anno, best known for his work with the Evangelion franchise, puts forth a delectably postmodern take on Godzilla. Anno’s kaiju is hideous. Its initial form looks like a lizard with googly eyes. There’s a lot of humor, pointed on a direct collision course with the horrors on full display. The narrative whiplash works well for the genre. Even when you can guess what’s going to come next, the results are genuinely surprising.

The incompetence of the government often competes with Godzilla for the most horrifying aspect of the film. Humanity may not face an imminent threat from an ocean-dwelling leviathan, but we’ve lived through recent crises where the strength of our civic institutions has been tested, and often found wanting.  With people who willfully deny scientific evidence and basic reality in positions of power, who can truly say which is worse?

The narrative does start to lose a bit of steam in the third act. The first half of the film is so laser-focused on political satire that it never really gives much time to developing its human characters. Yaguchi himself often functions as a stand-in for the lead character in the absence of anyone else who meets the description. Hasegawa does an admirable job endearing the audience to his character, but Anno and Higuchi don’t have a lot of interest in exploring humanity beyond the failures of the government.

The 120-minute runtime is a bit excessive, especially when the second half is light on Godzilla in parts where more of the big guy might have been welcome. Anno delivers a singular take on Godzilla that’s bound to stick with its audience long after the credits roll, a damning indictment on government incompetence that’s only improved with age. Fitting for its director, Shin Godzilla is a strange narrative, quite uneven at times. For the 31st entry into a decades-old franchise, perhaps the biggest achievement is the film’s delivery of something that feels genuinely fresh. There’s never been a Godzilla quite like this before.

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