TBT: When Tokyo was destroyed.

Having had the chance to really look into the Ellis reading a second time around, I’ve decided to re-analyze my initial blog post on the Godzilla (1954) text. It was quite a lengthy and in-depth post, so for the interests of keeping it somewhat shorter, I will only address a few of the topics I brought up in the post. First, a closer look at how I will be making this analysis, with a better look at the way autoethnography is done, and by going through the methods and definitions as outlined in the reading..

The reading states:

As a method, autoethnography combines characteristics of autobiography and ethnography. When writing an autobiography, an author retroactively and selectively writes about past experiences. Usually, the author does not live through these experiences solely to make them part of a published document; rather, these experiences are assembled using hindsight (BRUNER, 1993; DENZIN, 1989, Freeman, 2004).

My initial assumption of writing an auto-e was that I would just present information how I subjectively interpreted it, while relating to my own experiences. I do believe I did that, to a degree, however the nature of those expressions were so anecdotal at times it ran the risk of not being related at all.

Most often, autobiographers write about “epiphanies”—remembered moments perceived to have significantly impacted the trajectory of a person’s life (BOCHNER & ELLIS, 1992; COUSER, 1997; DENZIN, 1989), times of existential crises that forced a person to attend to and analyze lived experience (ZANER, 2004), and events after which life does not seem quite the same.

I feel like I wrote of one ‘epiphany’ when I spoke of my experiences with the 1998 film, however I really didn’t touch much on my own ‘epiphanies’ while viewing the text itself, so I will touch on these further on.

When researchers do ethnography, they study a culture’s relational practices, common values and beliefs, and shared experiences for the purpose of helping insiders (cultural members) and outsiders (cultural strangers) better understand the culture (MASO, 2001). Ethnographers do this by becoming participant observers in the culture—that is, by takingfield notes of cultural happenings as well as their part in and others’ engagement with these happenings (GEERTZ, 1973; GOODALL, 2001).

Here is where I felt my blog was most lacking. My lack of cultural understanding surrounding the film was something I did intend on looking more deeply into, however I still have not done so.

An autobiography should be aesthetic and evocative, engage readers, and use conventions of storytelling such as character, scene, and plot development (ELLIS & ELLINGSON, 2000), and/or chronological or fragmented story progression (DIDION, 2005; FRANK, 1995). An autobiography must also illustrate new perspectives on personal experience—on epiphanies—by finding and filling a “gap” in existing, related storylines (COUSER, 1997; GOODALL, 2001).

I felt that I was able to achieve more of the above quote in my second blog post, which I wrote after I had a chance to briefly gloss over the reason. It is something I will aim to apply below.

When researchers write ethnographies, they produce a “thick description” of a culture (GEERTZ, 1973, p.10; GOODALL, 2001). The purpose of this description is to help facilitate understanding of a culture for insiders and outsiders, and is created by (inductively) discerning patterns of cultural experience—repeated feelings, stories, and happenings—as evidenced by field notes, interviews, and/or artifacts (JORGENSON, 2002).

Here’s where it gets a bit hard for me. To be able to provide this description I feel like I would need to take a deeper look into the culture surrounding the text – in this case, Godzilla – to be able to do this correctly. I do believe I failed that part last time.

With all this in mind, I will briefly re-touch on the text.

So, as stated in the initial blog post, prior to watching this film, my only experience with the Godzilla franchise was the 1998 film. So going into it, I was expecting a little more mindless action, a little more violence, a bit more of Godzilla just killing people. However that didn’t actually happen as I thought it would. Rather, he seemed more focussed on just destroying things that happened to bother him than going out of his way to hunt down humans explicitly.

So imagine my surprise, or my ‘epiphany’ moment, when this was not the case. When the story was a little bit more developed than just those same old Hollywood tropes. How the ending was still bittersweet; there was in immense loss felt throughout the characters after Daisuke sacrifices himself to kill Godzilla with the oxygen destroyer, ensuring that he could die with a clear conscience and his invention would not fall into destructive hands.

After having a brief look over other blog posts on Godzilla from classmates, it seems a few others had trouble digesting the film. Whether this be because the film quality wasn’t so great, or they were used to Hollywood effects like I was, or the film was simply just too hard to follow because they were bored. I suppose all of these need a certain patience to them to be able to get the most out of the experience.

The film was grainy due to the obvious fact that it’s 62 years old, and the effects may seem dated for that same reason. Even if the film was given an HD remake, there would still be a lot of detail lost. The effects, while practical, were telling at some points. But the scale of the miniatures used was impressive; and the fact that they were able to trick the camera using perspective tricks to make Godzilla appear huge compared to the people on the same screen was downright impressive.


This article seems to shed some insight onto the cult following of the film; the deeply political and environmental messages behind the film, and really gets into the nitty gritty of the scientific significance. I will save myself from regurgitating the contents; however reading it over will be beneficial if one has trouble discerning why the film was so significant.

In future analyses I will keep in mind the methodological approach to autoethnography from the beginning.

State of I need Some Damn Sleep

It’s 6:51 am as I start this blog.

I am surrounded by empty cans of (free) red bull, dim lighting provided by over a hundred PC monitors; the sound of  muffled dubstep ringing through headphones, and incessant clicking and clacking of mechanical keyboards that are fading each minute as gamers give in to the fatigue of heavy competition play throughout the night.

This is Gamefest.

I have been up for the last 24 hours, without sleep, to take part in the University of Wollongong Video Games Association’s LAN convention, held in the uni itself. I personally did not partake in much gaming myself – I did come 3rd in the hastily arranged guitar hero competition at around 10pm last night – I was here to capture the event through the eyes of my lens. I bailed on actively taking photos at around 2am when all the cosplayers had left and the only action to be had was from intense competition play, which I opted to steer clear of to avoid blinding some very tired and very serious players with my camera flash.

CS:GO Got quite heated, despite some technical issues early on.

So when the action died down, I trundled over to my computer and began to live edit the images that I’d taken over the night. 4 hours later, they are mostly done, and I feel like I’m going to pass out any moment like a few attendees scattered around me have already done. And then I get approached to start taking photos of the teams who have won the League of Legends and the DotA2 competitions. Which prompted me to remember the documentary we had watched earlier in the week: State of Play (2013). Seeing as I’d finally had a chance to have a look at the Ellis reading it would be a perfect opportunity to use what I’ve picked up from the article and write about this documentary.

If someone who’d never gamed in their life took a step into this room right now and looked at the spectacle before them, I doubt they’d understand. I’d imagine they’d shake their head, even turn up their noses in disgust (some of these people were notorious for forgetting that deodorant exists) and just think, these people are bloody crazy to dedicate so much time and energy to some videogames. Which is a thought that I almost echoed within my own mind after seeing State of Play. If you think Gamefest is insane, take a look at these guys!

The documentary follows a few hardcore competitive Starcraft gamers from South Korea; each at their own different level in terms of skill and fame. To me, the concept of this was so foreign, despite the fact I’d been a gamer (non-competitive) since before I was even able to hold a controller. Gaming was considered a full-time job to these guys. The professional teams had their own mini-buses. They were styled from head-to-toe; what they wore, their hair, even makeup for a few before getting on stage in front of thousands of people. The stages and arenas were fully curated from lights to special effects, screaming crowds, and cameras to broadcast the games to millions of viewers throughout the country. They were celebrities. They had fangirls screaming at the top of their lungs for the top players like the women would scream at the Beatles as they emerged onto the tarmac from their private jet.

It’s crazy.

To us.

But why did I find this so utterly outlandish?

Being a 90s kid, I was born amongst that first true disconnect of generations. We were growing up with rapidly changing technology that our parents would struggle to keep up with. Whenever I would play the playstation a little more than my allowable time, my parents would scold me for playing ‘too much of that Nintendo’. There was one scene in particular that resonated with my own experience; one of the more well-known players travels to his ancestral home and joins his parents and elders for a meal. They grill him about his choice of career; unbeknownst to them, he is practically a celebrity in what he does, and they struggle to understand the culture surrounding it; seemingly oblivious to the fact that he leaves in a Team house, surrounded by other players, who practice their sport from the moment they wake up, until they go to bed. They are sponsored for thousands of dollars. There have been instances of betting rings that have absolutely torn the sport apart, just like any other major league sport; it’s even more hardcore in South Korea than Football seems to be in the US.

I’m seriously not exaggerating.

When I think about that generational disconnect, I want to think about how long it would take to overcome. In South Korea, it seems mostly restricted to the more rural communities. But in Western societies, our gaming culture is no where near that huge. I know in the US they attempted to create a hype-train around the WCG Ultimate Gamer Championships… and THAT was cringy. From time to time, Western players will tune into streams of championships that are happening overseas – but the majority of these massive tournaments seem to happen in Asian countries for games like League of Legends or DotA. The Western FPS culture doesn’t seem to be strong enough just yet to gain that kind of momentum.

It will be interesting to see if this disconnect closes within the next few decades, as the aging population shifts into those who grew up surrounded by videogame culture. We are at a point now where we have parents with children who each have their own consoles; where young families are using Xboxes as a family-time tool instead of gathering around the TV and watching Australian Idol and calling that ‘quality time’. There are ‘gamer-mums’ out there, knowing which games can and can’t be paused almost instinctively, where as it took about a year of pleading and an account ban for my mother to realise that when my younger brother starts a League of Legends game, there are penalties for leaving your keyboard.

Perhaps it is something that I may choose to follow over these years. If I ever have my own family, it will be interesting to see the family dynamics behind videogaming. I’m not sure what I’ll say to my child should they come home one day and tell me that they are considering a career in videogaming; much like some of the parents in State of Play – will I ask my child to perhaps consider high-school over a career in gaming?

Oooooh no, there goes Tokyo!

Go, go, Godzilla!

One of my more recent ‘dealings’ with Godzilla just happened to be with this song on Guitar Hero. Those solos were hard!


I have probably had this song stuck in my head since yesterday’s viewing of the original Japanese 1954 classic film, Godzilla (or Gojira, as some have come to know it by).

Unfortunately I have yet to enjoy the absolute pleasure that will be reading through Autoethnography: An Overview – so this preliminary review will be based on a few observations and questions I had through the initial viewing of yesterday’s text.

Prior to this viewing, the only experience I’d had with Godzilla was 18 years ago. I was (probably) an adorable 7 year old, who at the time absolutely loved anything to do with science and nature. I’d seen the trailers for the movie on TV and begged my dad to take me. Needless to say, I came out of the theatre absolutely terrified. To this day I still have nightmares where I feel like I am being hunted by the 1998 Godzilla. Looking back over the scene highlights, the movie was terrible. But for a 7 year old, the feeling of not being able to run away from something so large that just wanted to kill you was pretty damn scary.

One of the trailers which had delivered great expectations to a nerdier mini-me.

The 1954 Godzilla/Gojira was quite different to the Hollywood reboot. I feel like we need to put a ban on Hollywood rebooting cult classic films. I’m looking at you, King Kong – whatever happened to if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it? Profits are why we can’t have nice things. I feel the only correct course of action to cleanse myself now would be to go through this list and watch every single original film in order to purge the filth my eyes have been contaminated with. I’m glad to have started with Godzilla in particular, I feel the burden lifting as I think about it. By this point in the blog entry I feel like my anecdote quota has been surpassed; so let’s talk about my experience with the real deal.

If for a moment we forget the politically charged motivations behind the film, I would have to say that for it’s time, the film is still pretty damn cool – and by that I mean I enjoyed watching it. As a student who has heavily studied the processes behind making films, it was somewhat of a delight to think about the technical effects of the film. While the practical effects were quite telling for a modern viewer, it doesn’t make the methods used any less ingenious.

As an animation enthusiast, I have a soft spot for mind-blowing CGI visuals; however, they are only as good as the most powerful computer at the time can produce. So for early CGI adopters, 20 years into the future, the effects look dated and even cringe-worthy. I did not find this was the case with the 1954 film as the effects were practical. They were used only when needed, which was a refreshing and welcome change from being bombarded with mindless action.

For instance, the miniature landscapes which had great attention to detail in order to make them seem passable as full-sized landscapes. On the contrary to that, however – the model of Godzilla himself, I felt, left a little to be desired. In a black and white film it was a little hard to distinguish a clear image of him; however that may simply be due to my predisposition to the fancy CGI renderings of the monsterous giant. Call me silly all you like, I still feel like it can be hard to take Gojira seriously with such an adorably creepy goofball grin.

D’awww. It’s so cute when it’s causing mayhem.

Now to jump straight back into the message of the film (because elaborate segueways are for people who are good at journalistic writing).

Holy politics, Batman!

Yes, there was quite a strong political undertone to this film. It was released 9 years after the US had dropped the Atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and they are not shy about incorporating messages about the fallout and environmental impact into their media; books, TV shows, radio, manga and films such as Godzilla made sure the messages were being heard loud and clear.

The basic gist is as follows. There have been Hydrogen bomb tests off the coast of Japan which have disturbed a now irradiated ancient giant sea monster, hell bent on destruction after being woken up from his very long nap. A major theme of this film is the residual effect of the radiation from the H-bomb tests, as well as scientific advancement, responsibilities, and dilemmas (for example – whether or not to play God).

So Godzilla, this radioactive ancient sea monster, is not a morning person. He wakes up and wreaks havoc first upon the (fictional) tiny fishing island of Edo, and unable to get back to sleep, decides to get revenge upon Tokyo. Scenes of terror and mass destruction take place, many people die. There is a definite parallel to be drawn between these scenes, and those of the destruction that the atomic bombs brought about in 1945. Where the Americans seem to glorify this kind of violence and trivialise the issue (Man of Steel, anyone?), the Japanese highlight the seriousness of them as a direct effect of being the victims of it in the past.

Related: What Godzilla would look like if he were a whale. Music appropriately by band Gojira.

Meanwhile, the protagonists just happen the be conveniently linked enough to all be involved in the plot. Emiko, the main female, is the daughter of a respected paleontologist (Dr. Kyohei Yamahei) who is involved in the emergency meetings about how they are to deal with the Godzilla threat. She also happens to be involved in a love-triangle of sorts with her partner, Hideto, who is a captain for the Nankai Sea Company, who were the first to be affected as the monster sank their ships. And then there is Daisuke; a secretive scientist who has eyes for Emiko, but has essentially been brother-zoned. This is all very convenient, but it does make the plot rather easy to follow. In my opinion, the story here is way better than the senseless Hollywood action that was the remake (shudder).

There were 2 things that piqued my curiosity about formality in Japan itself. First of all, I had noticed that the map was sideways, which I thought was interesting. I couldn’t really find any reason as to why that was, but I would hypothesize that it would be efficiency based; by flipping the map on it’s side, you could fit it on the wall at effectively double the size. I am unsure if this is something they actually did or whether it was just for the film. It would be interesting to find out, purely as an anecdote if nothing else. Secondly, I was taken aback by how formal everyone was. I know that the Japanese are very formal regardless, but I found myself somewhat taken aback with how formal the scientific briefings were. I know that if a scientist had started spouting facts to a committee that were unwilling to believe them in let’s say, Australian parliament, they would not be receiving a polite and uniformed applause at the end of their presentation – much less the actual civilised discussion to follow. I digress.

I’m not lying, promise.

The film ends with Daisuke sacrificing himself to ensure his reclusively developed Oxygen Destroyer (essentially a WMD) plans are never revealed to fall into the wrong hands, as he believes that he has played God enough and would rather not have it trouble anybody else; but not before giving Emiko what is essentially a T-800 thumbs up and letting her know that he approves of her (poorly kept secret of a) relationship with Hideto.

Daisuke sacrifices himself while a devastated Emiko and Hideto look on.

While this goes on, Dr. Kyohei Yamahei watches on, crying internally for the lost opportunity that was to study Godzilla. You know, for science.

All he wanted was the study opportunity of a lifetime, and you had to go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like “Godzilla must die”.