2025 will see the 10-year anniversaries of a lot of horror projects. And while it’s easy to remember films like Green Room and We Are Still Here as they make the recommendation rounds semi-regularly, it’s easy to overlook a lot of the other mediums of the genre. Case in point, horror comics. While a lot of great new horror comics like Scott Snyder’s Wytches and Cullen Bunn’s Harrow County flew under the radar in 2015 for all but the staunchest comics fans, there is one massive release that is hard to forget just thanks to the heavy IP stick it walks with: Godzilla In Hell. I’m still seeing videos about this comic as recently as a month ago, and it’s not difficult to understand why it’s had so much staying power.
What is Godzilla In Hell?
A monthly series that ran from July to November of 2015, five artists were each given an issue to depict the fall of Godzilla through hell itself. No really, it’s just that: Godzilla goes through hell, and is faced with his old enemies and the products of his destruction. And while the concept was simple, the result was an absolutely fantastic series that serves as a look into the philosophy of Godzilla’s existence as a menace. It can also function as an all-purpose bookend to the tales of Godzilla; no matter what continuity you go with, he’s lovingly sent off through the art of those depicting him, even as he’s put through the wringer.
The Art of Godzilla in Hell
The comic is wordless for most of its issues, putting the onus of the storytelling on the visuals. And what a group of artists this is to give that task: the first issue is helmed by James Stokoe, who indie comics fans will know for his work on Orc Stain, and the earlier Godzilla: The Half Century War. This is succeeded by a lustrous fully painted issue by Hugo Award-winning artist Bob Eggleton, and is followed through to the end by art from Brandon Seifer, and Dave Wachter.
The artists chosen for this series have a great sense of size and texture, which are essential in depicting the Heisei and Millenium era Godzilla designs chosen to follow throughout the issues. There is a very base, sensual nature to Godzilla as an icon, in that all the kaijus, the suits, the special effects, have a tactile feel that is palpable through the screen. Pillars of white smoke detonate, buildings are shattered into splinters and dust, and those upright double bass roars resonate to your very core.
The Millenium era Godzilla, first seen in Godzilla 2000, might be the best example of this phenomena and was chosen for this series with intent. Its scales, color, the proportions, it might not be everyone’s favorite suit, but it is the platonic ideal of Godzilla suits and the design that most people will call to mind because of that sensory effect. Every artist nails the look of him despite their vastly different styles.
And it’s not just Godzilla and his giant monster cohorts, but the environments around them, which paint the abyss in a perfectly bleak light. Eggleton’s idea of hell is the most interesting visually, as it calls on classical painters like John Martin and Gustave Dore to give the underworld its very apocalyptic ecosystem, elemental layers bleeding into each other with new methods of torture around every corner. The inferno lives through his use of hot oranges and bloody reds that saturate the page with pure painted fire.
Issue 4 by Ibrahim Moustafa is a technical achievement in its own right, as it is the one that comes closest to looking like a classic Showa-era film, giving away a lot of the atmosphere in favor of visual clarity and a strong kinetic feel in all the motion and action. Even when Godzilla in Hell isn’t going anywhere particularly new, it’s one of the best pieces of Godzilla action around, and that hasn’t changed even a decade out.
The Story of Godzilla in Hell
The only issue I can say that falters in terms of art is the third, helmed by Ulises Farina and Erick Frietas. Issue 3 breaks pace, and sadly doesn’t have nearly the visual impact that the other four do, which kills me since it’s the closest thing we get to explaining how Godzilla died and ended up there. And it’s bonkers reasoning, as one should expect: Godzilla was supposed to be enlisted into a war between Heaven and Hell upon his death, but cared so little about the call that he just decided to start destroying everything in his way and ended up being sent into Pandemonium for his troubles. The issue, at the very least, has a charm to it that doesn’t detract from the momentum of the story, and has its own artistic merits as disconnected as they might be.
Brought together by these five artists, the visual medium pulls all the weight it needs to tell you what’s going on: Godzilla is, like all the other residents of hell, being tortured by his Earthly attachments. He’s harangued by the nuclear power that made him, buffeted by stormy cloud-like masses of the humans he’s killed, and attacked by a Lovecraftian mirror image of himself; the last is what I can only assume a kind of tulpa of how the world sees Godzilla, not as a wild animal of happenstance, but an all-consuming organic storm of flesh and gnashing teeth that ravages everything in its path. It’s ill intent against all other living things made incarnate, and the battle it has with Godzilla is a perfect attempt to torture the king of the monsters.
I would tell you more about the final issue, illustrated and written by the incomparable talent of Dave Wachter, but it has to be seen to be believed. It’s a weird metaphysical finale of devastation that, while almost unadaptable to the screen, is a perfect ending for Godzilla’s journey. I will tease this one detail to force you to read the comic: you better be prepared for the mother of all atomic breath attacks.
The Heart of Godzilla in Hell
Does all this insane art service a greater idea? The story suggests that though the entity might be able to die, the real end to Godzilla as an idea and a character is almost impossible. What can destroy something that is the essence of destruction? What can erase a cultural icon if it’s stuck in the minds of generations of people? What is punishing to the one who doles out the punishments? The final panels, juxtaposed with a quote by Siddhartha Gautama might pose an answer that is equal parts comforting and disturbing: nothing really can.
And if the philosophy of the comic doesn’t interest you, well, hey. You still have a pretty dope comic full of violent kaiju fights and hellish imagery. So, either way, happy reading horror fans!