I’m what I would consider an average Godzilla fan. I think the concept of a giant, irradiated dino-lizard that represents fears and anxieties of the atomic age is rad. I think when you have that concept fight other kaiju, it’s especially awesome. I have the Showa Era Criterion Collection set and I’ve watched those movies, but I can’t pinpoint when the franchise changed, and what era does what best. That said, I jumped at the opportunity to review Godzilla vs. America: Texas because I’ve driven across the country enough times that I wanted to see what a giant, irradiated dino-lizard does to the most proud state in the union. It wasn’t even remotely what I expected. For better and for worse.
Godzilla vs. America: Texas isn’t a Godzilla story. It’s actually four Godzilla stories that try to interpret the larger than life figure into the state where everything is bigger. The four stories are of varying scale and severity but all work together to try and show the impact of Godzilla rummaging its way through a state that has a very specific identity.
IDW
The first story felt the most topical, where a podcaster not unlike the disgraced Alex Jones dismisses the threat of Godzilla descending upon the Lone Star State as nothing more than a hoax. Calling Godzilla some elaborate CGI falsehood that was created to sow fear and obedience from the good people of Texas, this story felt oddly brave, mimicking a lot of the talking points of the influencer regime of public figures and echoing their constant drive for subscribers and purchasers. It was the most familiar and probably the most divisive of stories being told, because it just felt like Twitter set against the, admittedly sick, backdrop of Godzilla tearing things up in a big way.
The next story felt Texas Noir (I genuinely have no idea if that’s an existing genre or if I just made that term up), the story of a father and son entrepreneurs that felt right at home in a classic episode of Dallas. These men have won at life and they keep the deck stacked in a way where they keep winning. This feels like the most like a Twilight Zone episode, where Godzilla was more than a giant, misunderstood monster—it was a karmic force, a spirit of retribution that corrected the imbalance that capitalism and cruelty created.
The third story felt the most Super Sentai of them all, where the state officials of Texas activated Tex-Mech, a giant robot that embodies the state of Texas and the two colossal figures duke it out the way only skyscrapers can. While the most straightforward of stories with the least detailed art, it also had the most personality of any of the stories. The simplistic but stylized art really helped choreograph an insanely cool fight between two titans and capture a classic, beat-em-up feeling.
IDW
The final story felt the most personal, like it was Godzilla against the Texas mindset. No punches were thrown; it was more like a chess match about what’s stronger, a lizard monster powered by elements that would kill any other living thing, or the stubborn will of one of the few states that thinks they can make it as their own country. It’s a metaphorical fight where you could feel every blow despite not a single punch being thrown.
Godzilla vs America: Texas isn’t even remotely what I expected. The anthology format allowed deeper stories than I thought I would get, even if some of them felt a little underwhelming. At the end of the day, I really just wanted to see a giant lizard shoot nuclear death rays from its mouth and blow up familiar monuments and I kind of got that, but I also got more than I thought I would, with four stories that ran a wide range of feelings and incorporated Japan’s coolest export to pretty successful degrees.
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