Our old black-and-white
television would flicker and flutter if the antenna didn’t rabbit ear
precisely, but that never stopped me from staying up late at night to watch one
of the various Godzilla movies aired
after midnight. My young heart thrilled as the monster stomped through Tokyo, ripped
Mothra from the air, or battled to the death with Kong.
Last
night, my heart embraced the latest in Godzilla’s destruction by viewing Godzilla Minus One. In the 70 years of
Godzilla epics, the original that I viewed on that old, small screen holds a
special place. I have to admit, though, that I love this behemoth in all of his
renderings.
Why?
I
have no idea.
I
do know that Godzilla’s sweeping tail and stomping feet, his superior ferocious
power and impenetrable, scaly hide delighted my childish heart. With this
latest version, I cheered as he ripped through cities, plucking ships from the
ocean and tossing them like small toys into the air. I know, as in the past
movies from my childhood, he will be back
Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
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