The Final Shot of Hideaki Anno’s ‘Shin Godzilla’ Is Still the Scariest What-If Scenario of All Time

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. To say the so-ugly-he’s-cute “Kamata-kun” evolved into a capital B big problem would be an understatement. After plenty of trial-and-error runs to prevent Godzilla from running amok, a coalition of rag-tag scientists comes to the not-so-awesome conclusion that this Gojira is a being that’s transcended evolution and possibly death. No moment quite underscores that more than the final, haunting shot of the 2016 film. Around the midway point of Shin Godzilla, the scientists discover that Gojira can reproduce asexually. While this point isn’t too crazy given the infrequent presence of Godzilla Jr. (or Manilla) across the kaiju’s 70-plus-year existence in cinema, Shin Godzilla adds an extra, harrowing hypothesis: Godzilla could evolve by sprouting wings and shrinking to rapidly colonize the entire world. Given how many plates Japan is already spinning with the giant radioactive lizard stomping about Japan to alleviate himself of his compounding radioactivity, the film doesn’t spend too much time futzing with this pie-in-the-sky escalation of Gojira’s evolution. And honestly, they don’t really have the luxury to, because if Japan fails to prevent Gojira’s rampage from reaching Tokyo, the U.S. is going to drop a nuclear bomb. Thankfully, Japan hatches an ingenious plan to keep both a third nuclear bomb and Godzilla’s rampage at bay with Operation Yashiori. © Toho © Toho If you’ve ever had the displeasure of giving a cat a pill, Operation Yashiori is essentially the kaiju version of that. Force-feeding Godzilla a cooling agent will coagulate his radioactive blood and freeze him in his tracks. With less than an hour to spare until nuclear missiles are launched, Operation Yashiori is deemed a success: “Godzilla has been completely silenced.” Although the powers that be claim they would’ve fired nukes at New York if Godzilla had made landfall there first, we’re gonna call bullshit on that, since the film reveals U.S. cooperation wasn’t entirely altruistic. We just wanted to cover our ass out of shame from our own knowledge and secret monitoring of Godzilla getting out, should he become a problem on the global stage. Fortunately, radiation emanating from Godzilla has a half-life of 20 days, meaning Japanese citizens won’t get radiation poisoning from him as long as they keep their distance for a bit. Though moviegoers get an eyeful of just how much of a buzzer-beater Operation Yashiori was, with a haunting shot of what could have been: Godzilla’s fifth form, which sees his tail sputter out a bouquet of humanoid Godzillas. © Toho © Toho © Toho © Toho For a decade, I’ve been haunted by this final sequence of Shin Godzilla. No music underscores the moment. It’s dead silent as the camera pans upwards to the tip of his tail. It’s an image so burned into my mind that recalling it makes me shudder at how much worse everything could’ve gone. These aren’t just discount xenomorphs. Had Operation Yashiori failed, and Godzilla recovered from overheating, these beasties would’ve been 7-meter-tall, positively demonic monstrosities wreaking havoc in ways a gargantuan Godzilla couldn’t. While plenty of fans have theorized the logistics of how his xenomorph-like evolution came to be, positing that the mysterious scientist, Goro Maki, who played a key role in stopping him, must’ve fused with Godzilla, leading to his humanoid fifth form, I like to think it was just a scared animal doing the only thing it could: evolve. Similarly, just as King Ghidorah evolved over the course of Godzilla Minus One by taking on both lightning and noshing Godzilla’s arm to gain his atomic breath, I like to think Shin Godzilla‘s titular kaiju sought to make himself in our image to keep existing. As shown by the twisted forms of his human-like spawn forming at his tail, he came close, until Operation Yashiori froze them into a nightmarish swarm of statues. © Toho/Ground Works © Toho/Ground Works © Toho/Ground Works © Toho/Ground Works The Art of Shin Godzilla, the film’s accompanying art book, reveals that Anno came up with the idea of Godzilla’s fifth form taking shape on the tip of his tail. We have Mahiro Maeda to thank for the rough sketches of this form and sculptor Takayuki Takeya for refining its haunting final concept. Instead of being pure nightmare fuel, Godzilla’s fifth form was initially planned to look like feminine, beautiful angels with wings. We’re guessing that was a bit too Evangelion for a film already repurposing anime soundtrack motifs throughout. Not gonna lie, I kinda feel for Shin Godzilla‘s kaiju, in a fucked up, romanticized, Guillermo del Toro sorta way. Buddy didn’t ask to be here. Whenever I catch myself thinking about him, I wind up playing Shiro Sagisu and Akira Ifukube‘s track, “Who Will Know.” Its sweeping, mournful lyrics sound like a cry for help from Godzilla in his own circumstances. Unfortunately, this song plays while he’s glassing Japan with his radioactive flame stream, so no, all bets are off for folks to attempt to sympathize with him. If I die in this world Who will know something of me? I am lost, no one knows There’s no trace of my yearning If I die in this world (but I must carry on) Who will know something of me? (Nothing worse can befall) I am lost, no one knows (all my fears, all my tears) There’s no trace of my yearning (tell my heart there’s a hole) I wear a void Not even hope A downward slope Is all I see I wear a void (as long as breath comes from my mouth) Not even hope (I may yet stand the slightest chance) A downward slope (a shaft of light is all I need) Is all I see (to cease the darkness killing me) While some fans don’t really gel with the implications of Shin Godzilla’s fifth form because it’s too big a departure from what Godzilla has been for decades, I find it the most disarming and frightening what-if scenario ever depicted in his filmography. Although there are rumors that Toho might make a sequel to Shin Godzilla, I like the mystery of Godzilla’s stillborn fifth form remaining a messed-up what-if scenario. Shin Godzilla is streaming on HBO Max. Want more io9 news? 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