(Big shout-out to Criterion for providing me with a review copy for the film!)

Do you hear that?

That. Right there. That sound.

Is it a bomb? No, wait, there's another. And another. Is it thunder?

The house is shaking now. Something is coming closer...

That's the feeling that Ishiro Honda conveys in his recently-acknowledged yet long-beloved film, Godzilla, or Gojira as it's called in Japan and by its more diehard fans. Back when children hid beneath desks in the vain hope that a cascade of nuclear murder would somehow be repelled by flimsy wood, the world at large was nigh-obsessed with The Bomb. Godzilla is a masterpiece of that age of the atomic, and thanks to the good folks at the Criterion Collection, we can now truly experience the film in its most beautiful and worthwhile transfer yet.

You may have done a double-take when you read the words "Godzilla is a masterpiece," but likely you only doubled that take if you know little of the art of Japanese cinema. Reciting the plot at length wouldn't do it justice, but in a nutshell, it's not just a story about a large, irritable saurian who burns Tokyo to the ground. It's a story about a people who have just rebuilt everything they lost in a great war, and now the specter of that war has returned, more powerful and more terrifying than ever. One man may hold the key to destroying this force of vengeance, but will it defeat one terror only to create another?
Every time I rewatch this film, I am amazed at another detail that I never noticed before. Such is the beauty of classic films, especially those made almost entirely out of raw ingenuity. The Japanese movie business of 1954 had never done anything nearly as ambitious as the first Godzilla film, and it's no small matter that it became one of the greatest science-fiction films ever made.

It may seem odd to the uninitiated (or the un-obsessed) to hear so much praise heaped onto a film that has spent decades under the reputation of being a cheap-jack drive-in flick rife with bad acting and a negligible plot, not to mention a slapdash man-in-a-monster-suit crushing cardboard buildings and dollar-store toy tanks. It is unfortunate that most of the mainstream public, and even large portions of the movie geek community, cling to this outdated sentiment, and even in the light of actually seeing the film, refuse to capitulate thanks to some misplaced desire for ironic humor. Recently, and thankfully, more and more moviegoers are fortunate enough to truly see the film for what it is: a stark portrayal of a epic-scale disaster, and be educated on the tortuous and beautiful handiwork of a ragtag group of film professionals were able to pull off. Handmade miniatures and meticulously timed trick photography meet powerful theatrical performances and a score that will haunt you for years to come. True, many of the effects are dated, and it's far from a perfect film, but its staying power and raw emotional vigor thrash any undue criticism to the ground and smash it into the dirt. Just like ol' Goji would.

Of course, the new Blu-Ray is what's what now. Most likely, if you're reading this review, you've seen the film at least two million times (and hopefully you'll get that reference). Which begs the broader question: Should you buy this Blu-Ray?
I find this an intriguing query. Some are questioning the staying power of Blu-Ray, citing that streaming formats are the way of the future. If this is the case, streaming isn't developing fast enough to sate my appetite for a beautiful and fulfilling cinema experience. If you're a true cinemaphile, if you truly love film, Blu-Ray releases like this are your drug. On a more specific note, Godzilla now finally has a truly superb release with this new transfer. Classic Media put out a really nice box set for the film a few years ago with oodles of special features, but the transfer of the film is so dark that it tends to disappoint. This transfer is like seeing it for the first time. Little details will pop up that hardcore fans will marvel at, and the soundtrack has never been so uncompressed and sumptuous to the eardrums.

As for the presentation of the release itself, home video marketing often neglect the box art aspect when it's much more important than some seem to realize. When comparing this Blu-Ray to previous cover art decor, it's an interesting topic. Sony's plethora of Godzilla DVD's fully intend to wow you with color, smashing elements together in a cavalcade of glitz and lightening effects. They're bright and gaudy and sometimes head-scratchers (like how the titular nemesis isn't even ON the front of Godzilla vs. Gigan's DVD), and on the far end of the spectrum from Classic Media's more subdued, classy covers. The original theatrical posters provide those releases with their art, though in a minimalist fashion that seems unique, while not necessarily eye-catching. As for Godzilla on Blu-Ray, I personally like it, mostly in concept. The washed-out yellows impressed upon me a burning hellscape, and the title star looms over his domain with his back turned to the viewer, giving a wonderful impression of his size and magnitude, while accentuating some of the mystery of the creature, implying that he's not there to pose for his own video cover. My only problem with it is the somewhat overdone "Photoshop-ness" of the cover, particularly on how the tail doesn't match up with the rest of the body, that it was clearly taken from another photo and rotated with little care to the consistency of Godzilla's form. Still, it's an eye-catching cover and, had I seen it without knowing it was for the new Criterion disc, I would have assumed it to be the poster for the (supposedly) upcoming Legendary Pictures reboot.
Unfortunately, I can't write this without mentioning the much-debated interior art to the disc. It may seem nitpicky, but it bears addressing. The exterior of the interior box is actually very neat, a cool blue to compliment the reds and yellows of the rest of the package, with an close-up of Godzilla underwater, and fans will recognize the significance of the overall image immediately. It's simple and effective. On the other side, the interior, it's another story. Again, reds and yellows dominate the art, and an image of what looks like the 2003 incarnation of Godzilla is used. While a misstep, it doesn't bother me that much, as the version used in the blue-colored art is one of the later versions of Godzilla, but its indirect angle, like the front cover, help mask the specific version and, again, lends to an overall theme of power and mystery. This huge, gaudy Godzilla in the interior feels somewhat out-of-place, and the weird Photoshop manipulation makes it look squiggly and messy rather than stylized. Again, not really a HUGE issue, more a nitpick.
The interior booklet is a nice surprise. A stark, newsprint-esque image made out of the 1954 publicity material lends to another nice compliment to the rest of the art. A brief guide to the disc itself leads into a short essay by J. Hoberman, "Poetry After the Bomb." A philosophical retrospective of the film itself and its impact and legacy. It's a nice read, convincing and high-brow.

Alright, enough blathering about the art, now for the special features. Perhaps the biggest is the inclusion of the Americanization of the flick, Godzilla, King of the Monsters! This transfer is also really nice (I can see Raymond Burr's pores!), and, like the Japanese film, enjoys a great soundtrack. It is kind of sad to see the American version demonized somewhat in recent memory, and it really doesn't deserve it. It's a little slipshod, true, and savvy viewers (that is, anyone over 12) will be able to tell the breaks in the audio between the Japanese soundtrack and the smattering of looped voices. Raymond Burr, while giving a solid performance, does occasionally illicit giggles from the more observant audience member, as ultimately he does little but stand around and narrate. I recall a friend once requested to see the American version, after having been impressed by the Japanese version in a college class on the Japanese horror genre. After seeing it, she summed it up well - "It was a lot like the original...though it seemed like, every few minutes, Burr would turn around and say 'Wait, oh, THIS happened.'" That may be a little broad, but it's still marvelous how much they managed to do with this film on the short schedule they had. Burr's narration still sends chills down my spine, as it accentuates King of the Monsters' opening shots of a ruined Tokyo perfectly. I still like to think these are just two sides of the same story.

David Kalat, author of A Critical History and Filmography of Toho's Godzilla Series (that's a mouthful) provides double-duty commentary for both versions of the film. Now, I've been a staunch defender of Kalat's Ghidrah: The Three Headed Monster commentary. I personally love it, and if I ever manage to corner him at G-Fest, I'm getting him to sign my DVD. However, I must admit that after listening to his new commentaries, these extremely entertaining and incredibly educational pieces would be SO much more at home in an audiobook or a podcast. True, Kalat does address many parts of the films at key moments, but he veers so far off course that it becomes distracting if you're watching AND listening. When compared to others of its ilk, like August Ragone's Gamera commentaries or, of course, the Classic Media Gojira commentaries by Steve Ryfle and Ed Godziszewski, it becomes clear that a track must do its best to remain connected to what's onscreen. My bias in favor of Kalat's commentaries largely arises from my penchant to throw them on while working in the middle of the day, where I don't have to watch in order to be entertained. Again, wonderful audio pieces, just not great commentary tracks.

There's a nice heaping helping of additional interviews with Akira Takarada ("Ogata"), Yoshio Irie and Eizo Kaimai (SPFX techies from the film), Haruo Nakajima (the man who WAS Godzilla), the late Akira Ifukube (the giant of Japanese film soundtracks) as well as Tadao Sato, a renowned Japanese film critic. All of these interviews are packed with information, even though a few times things were brought up that I found myself questioning, such as Irie discussing how they actually use a nozzle pumped through the Godzilla suit to produce actual flames, akin to Gamera's flame-breath from the 1960's. Such an effect was never used on-film, which begs the question of whether or not this was from another kaiju film Irie worked on, or perhaps a technique that never made it to film. Regardless, they're all fascinating interviews, especially the story about how Ifukube and Tsuburaya were happenstance drinking buddies before they were officially introduced as co-workers! Another piece of film history is a brief featurette on many composite shots used for Godzilla, introduced by Koichi Kawakita (SPFX director of the Heisei Godzilla series) and special effects photographer Motoyoshi Tomioka.
Perhaps the most show-stopping of the special features is The Unluckiest Dragon, an "illustrated audio essay" on the Lucky Dragon Number 5, which is well known to both Godzilla fans and Cold War historians as a major public and political event that would directly inspire the core elements of Godzilla. The feature is heartbreaking at times, but ultimately a direly important slice of history and extremely informative.

I could go on for pages upon pages more on this film and its release. Needless to say, you, and a Godzilla fan, owe it to yourself to get this disc. Don't have a Blu-Ray player? Buy one. For this. No HDTV? Do I gotta' spell it out for you? Buy that too. Stimulate the economy and enjoy the hell out of this release. One could argue that "they could have added more" and "it's not the definitive release." It darn sure comes close. Honda and company deserve all the praise this film gets.

5 out of 5 Stomps. Word.