When the DX Soul of Chogokin Mechagodzilla figure was announced last year to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Godzilla’s mechanical nemesis, I was drawn to it immediately. The 1974 film Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla (awkward English dub and all) was a part of my childhood, and seeing this ultra-high-quality representation of the robot menace brought to the surface the realization of just how much I love its design. Between a strong dollar to yen exchange rate, a relatively low cost compared to other figures from the deluxe line (the DX Mazinger Z from thirteen years ago cost twice as much!), and the fact that this Mechagodzilla actually plays its own theme song, this was a must-buy. 

Now that I have it in my hands, it makes me think about why exactly I love the classic Showa Mechagodzilla design so much.

Before I elaborate, I want to briefly talk about my experience with the figure itself. This DX SoC Mechagodzilla is so hefty and filled with diecast metal that it was initially cold to the touch. The paint job is intentionally done to give it a bit of shading and depth, and to make it look unpolished, just like in the movie. The articulation is a bit limited, but the head rotates 360 degrees just like when it’s creating a barrier, and it comes with the requisite sound effects (plus many others). About the only thing I wish it had was the song that plays when the monster first drops its disguise and is revealed in all its terrifying chrome glory, in addition to the main theme. Just playing with this toy affirms how fantastic it is.

The Showa version is also my favorite Mechagodzilla iteration ever, and it’s not just nostalgia at work. As an iconic Godzilla villain, Mechagodzilla has appeared in every era of the movie franchise, and it gets updated to match the times. The Heisei, Millennium, and Monsterverse versions are all cool in their own ways. Yet, they don’t have the same charm. The first two are almost too sleek, and the way they replicate the chest and arm muscles of Godzilla kind of detracts from the aesthetic for me. The last one, I’m not as much of a fan of the silhouette and the Michael Bay Transformers–esque bits and dongles. 

In contrast, the Showa Mechagodzilla has just the right balance of “imperfection” to me, both in its 70s-era idea of “futuristic technology” and the fact that it’s not actually trying to closely adhere to the actual Godzilla’s appearance. This version looks like hunks and sheets of metal riveted together. The cybernetic behemoth mimics the broad strokes of Godzilla’s body but not the finer details. Even the fact that it doesn’t try to match its inspiration’s approach to fighting is something I find appealing—the original Mechagodzilla comes with its own arsenal of rays and missiles, yet it doesn’t even bother to have its own version of Godzilla’s signature atomic breath. And it definitely has my favorite face of them all, one that’s distinct and menacing with its pointed and angular shape. The result is that Mechagodzilla is less about appearing “perfect” and more geared towards the goal of destruction and conquest.

I really do think that the Showa Mechagodzilla design is eternal. It’s identifiably of its era, but I find it to be more timeless than any of its descendants.

Happy Anniversary, Mechagodzilla!