Every time a new Godzilla movie like Godzilla Minus Zero rolls around, I’m plagued by thoughts of Neon Genesis Evangelion creator Hideaki Anno’s 2016 kaiju film, Shin Godzilla. The loudest skree-onking thought reverberating inside my mind palace is that, in my heart of hearts, it is my favorite Godzilla movie of all time. While the jury is still out on whether I prefer it over Oscar-winning director Takashi Yamazaki’s 2023 film Godzilla Minus One, what’s not up for debate is that, a decade later, I’m still haunted by the final shot of Shin Godzilla.

Co-directed by Shinji Higuchi and Anno, Shin Godzilla sees Japan besieged by the most off-the-beaten-path iteration of Godzilla yet. Unlike other takes on the iconic kaiju, this version of Godzilla is the most animal-like and distinctly Lovecraftian, thanks to his ability to evolve like a Pokémon. Big G is less about malice, rage, or any other big-marquee thematic throughline of vengefulness, like the equally nightmarish Godzilla in Godzilla, Mothra and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack. He’s more bumbling around, crashing into buildings, leaking ooze from his gills, and reacting to shapes and colors like a big dumb animal. Throughout the film’s sweeping lampooning of bureaucratic rubber-banding, the Japanese government shuffles to and fro through a cacophony of boardrooms and hallways, deliberating over how to handle Godzilla as either a creature in need of conservation or an environmental threat worth nuking to rid the world of.

However, when Japan and the United States start hurling missiles and the like at the big lummox, he reacts in kind by doing some new shit: splitting open his mouth and unleashing an atomic beam from his head, dorsal fins, and tail.

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