I have a confession: I
am a fan of disaster movies. I totally get why folks tend to dismiss the genre,
but Gareth Edwards’Godzilla is a good example of
why I’m a fan. It not only contains many elements that attract me to disaster
films but also puts on a grand scale one of my favorite themes in the genre: We
are creatures in need of saving.
Film scholars point
out many disaster movies are metaphors for cultural anxieties: political angst
(Cold War era Red Dawn and post-9/11 War of the Worlds), biological threats (Andromeda Strain, Outbreak, World War Z), natural disasters (Earthquake, Twister, Armageddon) and new
dangers like climate change (The Day After Tomorrow).
But hope is also a
major thread in many of these films. Film scholar Stephen Keane points out that
disaster movies typically end with of images of rescue, redemption and
reconstruction. This operates on a grand scale in 2012, of which Entertainment Weekly’s Owen Gleiberman reflects that
all that destruction serves to “clear the world . . . of the mess it’s become.
So that it can become something better.”
Disaster films also
explore humanity’s redeeming qualities. Often, disparate groups of people
unite, easing divisions. Producer Alby James notes some characters are almost
messianic, sacrificing themselves so others can survive. The best of these
films, says James, “remind us of the meaning of life, the people we care most
about.”
Many of these elements
resonate in Scripture. If we pay attention, disaster films give us a chance to
think about biblical truth from a new perspective.
In Godzilla, concerns about powerful technology and our
effect on the Earth take form in gigantic ancient parasitic creatures reawakened
by humanity’s use of nuclear power. These malevolent Massive Unidentified
Terrestrial Objects feed on the radiation created by humans to grow and
reproduce, leaving a trail of devastation in their wake. Humanity doesn’t stand
a chance against them — until Godzilla, their natural predator, rises from the
ocean.
Godzilla and the MUTOs
are godlike in power and size, exposing human hubris. As one character puts it,
“The arrogance of men is thinking nature is in their control and not the other
way around.” We too easily fall prey to the illusion that, with all our
advancements, we have tamed nature and mastered our planet. Godzilla, like other disaster films, reminds us we are
not in control.
Unequivocally, this
film displays a humanity that not only needs saving but needs saving by
something greater than itself. There is nothing anyone can do to save
themselves or those they love from certain destruction. Military power is
useless; some efforts actually edge humanity closer to destruction.
Images and themes of
rescue and redemption are displayed on a grand — even divine — scale in this film. Godzilla is called “a god” at one
point and declared humanity’s “savior” at another. Godzilla is bent on bringing
balance back to a nature human action has unbalanced, even if it costs him his
life. I agree with Christianity Today’sTimothy Wainwright, who calls Godzilla the “weirdest Christ figure” he’s seen,
but director Edwards somehow makes it work.
Of course, that
doesn’t make Godzilla a profound film. But,
as with other disaster movies, I resonate with the way it explores and works
out our place in the world in its own style. And I appreciate the grand scale
in which it displays that we are creatures in need of saving by something
greater than ourselves.
This post is a slightly longer and more linky version of my column that appeared in the June 9 issue of MWR.