
When the X-Men costumes were much less gay.
The Shark Jumpty Dance.
GODZILLA VS. MONSTER ZERO is a perfect exemplar of why Godzilla movies are so bad. And – I know what you’re thinking – it’s NOT because of the guys in the rubber suits. It’s because even within the world of the movie – Nothing. Makes. Sense.
This movie – like so many other “Godzilla movies” of its era – is so badly written, with such poor understanding of motivation and plot, with such juvenile construction, that every aspect of the production is affected adversely, from the acting, to the hideous translations, to the Neanderthal misapprehension of space travel. The rubber suits then just add gravy to a film already execrable on so many other levels.
Aliens from “Planet X” capture two Earth astronauts and ask permission of them to “borrow” Godzilla and Rodan to rid their planet of Monster Zero. (Relax, Godz fans: “Monster Zero” is just what the aliens call Ghidorah. Yes, that same old golden dragon with the three waggly heads. The lame name change was done for the same reason producers changed Godzilla’s name to Gigantis in GODZILLA RAIDS AGAIN. They thought to bring in more viewers with a “new monster.” Times were different, audiences were different, venality was the same.) In return for lending Godzilla and Rodan, the aliens (who all speak Japanese badly dubbed with English thankfully) promise the cure for cancer.
So these two astronauts (one of them a literal golden-haired American boy named Nick Adams, who was only cast to bring in American viewers – again, that old black magic called venality – an even worse actor than his Japanese counterparts) return to Earth and report to authorities, who do nothing, because Godzilla is not theirs to schlub around! Doesn’t matter in the least, because the aliens have traveled to Earth on the heels of our astroknobs and take Godzilla and Rodan up in “electromagnetic bubbles.” (In other words, the aliens can control both monsters at whim by encasing them in inescapable bubbles. Hold that thought…)

Is this where SON OF GODZILLA came from?
The Big G ‘n R proceed to throw rocks at Ghidorah on Planet X and perform all manner of doing nothing much, and succeed in driving him off! Hooray! If only veteran Godzilla scripter Shin’ichi Sekizawa understood the concept that if a civilization possessed interstellar travel it would also possesses NUCLEAR TECHNOLOGY that could do ONE BILLION TIMES the damage of rock-throwing and fire-breathing, then this scene wouldn’t be so fucking senseless! Why aren’t these interstellar aliens employing that technology on Ghidorah? Answer: Because though he writes space travel into his story, Sekizawa hasn’t got the faintest clue what space travel indicates about a society.
So the Earthlings are given a reel tape containing the cure for cancer. (They’re an alien interstellar species… it’s a good thing they still use REEL TAPES!)
When the two astrodoofs play the reel back on Earth, it’s not the expected cancer cure, it’s the alien commandant’s voice informing them Earth is being taken over by Planet X, and that Ghidorah, Godzilla and Rodan are under the aliens’ control, ready to destroy Earth’s cities.
I just have one teeny tahny teensy little question for the meathead who wrote this Shakespearean epic: IF THE ALIENS COULD EXERT CONTROL OVER ALL THREE MONSTERS FROM THE VERY BEGINNING, WHY GO THROUGH THAT CHARADE OF ASKING FOR HELP AND TRANSPORTING GODZILLA AND RODAN TO PLANET X, TO HAVE THEM BATTLE GHIDORAH, AND THEN TRANSPORTING ALL THREE MONSTERS BACK TO EARTH? THEY ALWAYS HAD CONTROL OVER ALL THREE OF THEM. WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THE LAST HOUR AND 15 MINUTES OF THIS MOVIE? Consequently, what could possibly be the point in the last fifteen minutes?
Or how about the Jail Escape scene: our two heroes are behind bars in an alien spaceship (an interstellar alien race still uses BARS for imprisonment?). One of our heroes pulls out a noisemaker that disrupts the aliens. He turns it on: one alien falls to the floor holding his head in anguish, while the other… please move back while my head explodes again… while the other holds his head and runs toward the jail bars holding the key aloft – ACTING! – allowing our heroes to neck-grab him and extract the key from his hand! Now I know the script says our heroes have to escape this cell. And this child-acting and baby-plotting is the most plausible way they can do that?
The tragedy – the utter tragedy – is that the man helming this dungcastle brought the one true GODZILLA to life in 1954. We can see intimations of director Ishiro Honda‘s past greatness in some of his ambitious shots, like a spaceship landing on an alien planet with Jupiter in the background. But all the creative shots in the world can’t save him from the hot mess of the wretchedly constructed story. Apparently, after his shining moment in ’54, director Honda would degenerate to Good Company Man, and produce whatever turd the Toho Company put in front of him without question. As proven by this dogvomit. We have to ask ourselves: was GODZILLA 1954 a fluke? Literally, every single other Godzilla movie that Honda worked on – and he worked on many – is a testament to atrocious filmmaking. And again I say – IT’S NOT THE GUYS IN SUITS. It’s the guys in the other suits – the business suits. The executives at Toho Company. And the poor guys in the rubber suits became the most identifiable factors when the other execrable aspects of these movies made them nigh unwatchable.
Though a 10,000 page treatise could be written on the flaws in this movie, I’ve had enough. Go do something productive, like throwing rocks through Toho Company’s windows…
END













































One Comment on “GODZILLA VS. MONSTER ZERO”
Jon Dunmore’s Godzilla vs. Monster Zero review is, once again, a highly snarky, hyperbolic exercise in deconstructing a Godzilla film, but this time it feels more like a rant than a review. His critique is laced with sharp jabs and an almost gleeful disdain for the genre, and the way he attacks the film’s narrative, logic, and even its director, Ishirō Honda, is unapologetically caustic.
Let’s break it down:
1. Over-Reliance on Snark and Insult:
Dunmore’s opening statement, “Godzilla movies are so bad” isn’t exactly a fresh take, nor does it set up a nuanced argument. His criticisms feel more like a series of insults than a deep dive into the flaws of the film. He repeatedly uses harsh words like “dungcastle” and “dogvomit,” not to illustrate specific issues but as a shorthand to communicate disdain. While hyperbole can be amusing or effective in moderation, here it feels like a crutch. By leaning too heavily on insults, Dunmore misses an opportunity to delve into what could make these movies interesting, even if flawed.
2. Logical Gaps in the Plot:
While Dunmore’s frustration with the plot is warranted in some respects (the absurdity of the aliens’ motivations and the lack of coherent logic about their control over the monsters is hard to ignore), he doesn’t engage deeply with the film’s larger context. Yes, the aliens control Godzilla, Rodan, and Ghidorah, but is that necessarily a flaw, or could it be seen as a reflection of the genre’s penchant for absurdity? Dunmore calls out the plot holes but doesn’t engage with the creative, campy elements that define many Godzilla films. These movies aren’t known for their tight plots or scientific accuracy. Dunmore fails to acknowledge that much of what seems nonsensical could be considered part of the fun for fans of the genre.
3. Misunderstanding the Genre:
At one point, Dunmore questions why the aliens don’t use nuclear weapons, which he assumes they must have given their advanced technology. This critique feels somewhat misplaced because the Godzilla movies, especially from the Showa era, often play fast and loose with science and logic. The concept of interstellar aliens being so advanced, yet still using the rather dated trope of controlling monsters with “electromagnetic bubbles” isn’t a flaw; it’s an element of the fantasy genre. Calling this out as a mistake ignores the fact that Godzilla films have always been part of a larger, kitschy tradition of speculative fiction, often poking fun at its own absurdities.
4. The Criticism of Ishirō Honda:
Dunmore’s dismissal of Ishirō Honda’s post-1954 work is harsh and a bit unfair. Honda’s Godzilla (1954) is, of course, a masterpiece, but his later films, though often considered campy or less serious, were still products of their time and made with their own set of creative and financial constraints. Criticizing Honda for “degenerating to Good Company Man” seems overly dismissive. Honda may have taken on projects that were financially motivated (after all, he was a director working for a major studio), but that doesn’t automatically invalidate his contributions to the genre. The Godzilla series evolved over the years, and Honda’s involvement in later films doesn’t necessarily mean his earlier work was a “fluke.” The critique feels more like a personal dismissal than an objective evaluation of Honda’s evolving role in the franchise.
5. The Dismissal of the Fans:
Once again, Dunmore doesn’t leave much room for the audience’s enjoyment of the film. In the same way his Ghidorah review completely dismisses Godzilla fans, this one implies that if you enjoy Monster Zero, you’re indulging in something utterly ridiculous and beneath serious discussion. This elitist tone undermines the potential for constructive discussion about the film. Godzilla movies have always had their niche appeal, and to paint all fans of the franchise with the same brush of naivety feels unnecessarily alienating. There’s no attempt to understand why fans of Monster Zero might appreciate the campiness, the iconic monsters, or even the international production context in which it was made.
6. Missed Opportunities for Insight:
What Dunmore fails to do, yet what might have made the review more compelling, is offer insight into what Monster Zero is trying to achieve in its own oddball way. This film, like many in the Godzilla franchise, can be seen as an exploration of themes such as the tension between technology and humanity, or the absurdity of postwar geopolitics, all wrapped in kaiju battles. While it’s not high cinema, there’s a layer of cultural commentary to explore. Dunmore misses these opportunities entirely, preferring instead to mock the film’s inability to live up to some imagined standard of serious science fiction.
Conclusion:
Dunmore’s review of Godzilla vs. Monster Zero is, as usual, loud, abrasive, and snarky. It does not attempt to engage with the material on any meaningful level, instead opting to mock and belittle the film for its inconsistencies and absurdities. This style of critique—where the writer focuses more on ridiculing the work than analyzing it—might be entertaining to some, but it lacks depth. The review would be much stronger if Dunmore took the time to consider Monster Zero as a product of its time, acknowledging both its shortcomings and its unique place in the Godzilla mythos.
In short, while Dunmore’s reviews can be entertaining in their sheer vitriol, they don’t provide much in the way of meaningful analysis or reflection on the films themselves. His critiques feel like they’re more about venting frustration than offering a balanced perspective, making it difficult for readers to walk away with a fuller understanding of the movie in question.