Do you believe in Godzilla? I do.
Didn’t used to — thought he was just a man in a rubber suit stomping on tiny buildings and cars, chomping on toy trains.
However, I have since come to learn that he is not only the most awesome radioactive action star of our time, the most fearsome metaphor for nuclear apocalypse ever to earn a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame — but also, for me, a source of profound creative inspiration, an atomic artistic muse of literally monstrous proportions.
Godzilla burst onto the scene in 1954 in “Godzilla,” reportedly born to embody the fear of nuclear destruction in the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
He went on to star in almost as many movies as Nicolas Cage (though most hard-core Godzilla-philes regard the 1998 “Godzilla” to be an epic debacle).
Now at age 60, Godzilla is back, blazing his way onto the silver screen once more in a new film entitled — you guessed it — “Godzilla.”
Director Gareth Edwards promises his new Godzilla (release date: May 16) will hew true to the proud origins of the King of All Beasts. It features an all-star cast (Juliet Binoche, David Strathairn) headed by “Breaking Bad” superstar Bryan Cranston. And, unconfirmed reports suggest the larger-than-life leviathan will be larger than ever — clocking in at 350 feet tall.
Along with his millions upon millions of devoted fans, I am eager to see what the rebooted Godzilla has in store for us measly humans.
Unlike his most passionate followers, I did not discover a love for Godzilla as a youngster — was more into Spider-Man, Speed Racer and the campy spectacle of professional wrestling, where the characters had such colorful names as Chief Jay Strongbow, Haystacks Calhoun and Gorilla Monsoon.
At age 9, I don’t think it even occurred to me how racist it was that two of the top tag-team villains — Mr. Fuji and Professor Tanaka — were Japanese stereotypes whose evil shtick involved throwing salt into their opponents’ eyes.
No, Godzilla came to me later in life — almost as if in a vision — not long after the March 2011 nuclear tragedy at Fukushima.
For reasons I will never fully comprehend, the following idea popped into my head: What if Godzilla re-emerged from the Pacific, not to terrorize his countrymen but to soothe them — a sort of kinder, gentler Godzilla with a more Zen-like temperament and perhaps even a fondness for poetry?
This inspired a Photoshop panel depicting the humble behemoth spouting his own brand of healing haiku:
Time for not panic
is now because Godzilla
is in your corner
Fear not the fallout
for if necessary I
will destroy Mothra
Before long I’d created a series of such panels: Godzilla linked to local warming, Uncertainty surrounding Godzilla causes havoc on Wall Street, French hail Godzilla as “comic genius.”
I know purists would likely scoff at the idea of a kinder, gentler Godzilla — and don’t get me wrong, he’s still pretty stoic and grim, still destroys things with brute force and his legendary laser heat breath.
But he also gets scolded by Smokey the Bear, scorches such deserving morons as Donald Trump and even dabbles in presidential politics (Romney flip-flops on Godzilla).
The taciturn annihilator even got his feelings hurt when he failed to receive an invitation to the wedding of Prince William and Duchess Kate (Godzilla snubbed by royals — Beast miffed at palace faux pas).
I don’t know why he guided me to depict him sniffing around the Seabrook nuclear power plant for spent fuel rods to munch on. But that’s how it played out.
I established a Twitter feed called @GodzillaAlert that barely got looked at, but was thrilled one day when — upon posting a link there to one of my Godzilla panels — I got an e-mail moments later alerting me to a new follower … in Japan.
The original post ended up getting 24,000 page views, which is a lot in my little world. Most important, it was fun.
Part of the theme was: In a world seemingly gone unhinged — fraught with geopolitical peril, indiscriminate barbarity and relentless scoffing — the people of Earth might yearn for some ancient wisdom from an inscrutable colossus.
Monkeying around with Godzilla, however, is not without risk.
I read one article suggesting that his lawyers are very hostile to anybody doing or saying anything involving his image or his “brand.”
In the interest of fool disclosure, the amount of money I have reaped from my Godzilla frivolity is a staggering zero dollars (based on the current exchange rate, I believe that also comes out to zero yen).
However, you will probably know what happened if tomorrow this article and/or my beloved Godzilla panels disappear in a puff of atomic litigiousness.
As a creative artist who is fond of dabbling in satire and parody, I know the First Amendment is probably no match for the wrath of Godzilla’s legal army.
So, I remain hopeful that the distinguished Reptilian elder statesman does not sue me, or cease and desist me.
Mostly I just hope Godzilla doesn’t — accidentally or on purpose — incinerate me into a smoldering pile of dust with his legendary, fiercely trademark-protected radioactive breath.
For I come in peace.
— John Breneman