Radioactive boar they are invading cities in southern Germany. They take a man in a wheelchair; they break through fences and cross roads, closing traffic on the highway; they travel in packages looking for food. Police are fighting to restore order in urban areas. Radioactive boars are armed with a post-apocalyptic payload; they live in the wake of the 1986 Chernobyl nuclear disaster. In search of radioactive plants, the animals embody the return of a disaster that many seek to suppress. Following the sinking and melting of a Chernobyl reactor, more than 100,000 people were evacuated from the 20-mile exclusion zone around the nuclear power plant. Residents exposed to radiation suffered from radiation poisoning, leukemia and thyroid cancer. An estimated 4,000 people could die from accident-related illnesses.
Now in the exclusion zone, in the middle of cracked streets and covered with weeds, a bear makes its way through a decaying city. The markers of human habitation are slowly turning into ruinous ruins. The paint peels of buildings and windows have lost their glass. The signs are twisted, without signaling to anyone their previously relevant information about the name of a street, a grocery store, the cafeteria service schedule. In the abandoned pastures there are only a few indications of the old crops, while the native grasses turn the space into a meadow. There, short, sturdy horses, the only subspecies ever domesticated, run wild where humans will never plant again. Thick-haired bison roam forests and fields they haven’t known in centuries. Without fear of being hunted, the animals flourish in a strangely mutated posthuman wildlife sanctuary, where radiation is still 10 to 100 times higher than is safe for occupation. Rare species that have not been seen in the region for hundreds of years have returned, such as the Przewalski’s horse, the European bison, the lynx and the Eurasian brown bear.
As for the radioactive wild boars several hundred miles away in Germany, with an omnivorous appetite and robust snouts to eliminate food, they consume its landscape. They eat acorns, nuts and insects, but also dig up truffles, tubers and mushrooms, which absorb high degrees of radioactive waste that, decades ago, drifted under the wind from the fusion of the power plant. In bulk, the wild boar is heading into nearby cities with the intention of achieving a density of food in bins, park bins and alleys. Weighing about 400 pounds each and with unpredictable fangs and temperaments, they give way to urban areas. A coarse-haired savage disagrees with the orderly surroundings of the small towns in which they find themselves.
Decades later, Chernobyl fades from memory. Generations have passed for humans. But for the radioactive elements that triggered the disaster, life has just begun. The fire in the core of the nuclear reactor is still alive, but invisibly. And the boar takes him with them. They bring the materiality of our failed technology and indifference to the life of a radioactive isotope.
Maybe we should pay more attention to our fictions. Godzilla, a prehistoric marine reptile monster made with the power of nuclear radiation, reminded Japan and the rest of the world that radioactive material is a more powerful beast and longer-lived than humans can imagine. Godzilla makes the nuclear threat otherwise invisible. His general indifference to humans makes him a suitable avatar for radioactive material.
Godzilla’s films spawned other notable monsters, including the large radiant moth creature Mothra, accompanied by small humanoid twins speaking on behalf of the creature. Mothra appeared in 16 films, including Godzilla vs. Mothra in 1964 and its remake in 1992 i The rebirth of Mothrawhich, like the Rocky series, had a series of unfortunate sequels. Of the many Japanese monster movies, Mothra against Bagan he never passed a script, but he should. Bagan is a huge winged multicorn rhinoceros, which thousands of years ago protected the earth from threats. Cuts the news when Bagan is released from captivity on a glacier that is melting due to global warming. As a protector of nature, the monster sets out to destroy humanity, which is destroying the earth. Crowds of people are facing their condemnation while the rest are asking for help. Mothra hears her cries and flies to her aid. But the help is short-lived, as Bagan saves Mothra in what would be an epic scene for an actor wearing a latex suit and a puppet moth with cardboard wings. With the monster moth defeated, everything seems lost. But on a remote island, one of the eggs of the moth arna hatches and a new Mothra is born. After several plot twists and suspense, the young Mothra defeats Bagan, the protector of the land. While it is clear that the earth needs to be saved, we have a problem with ceasing to exist to improve the non-human world. It’s like Mothra against Bagan it plays over and over again. Although Bagan returns again and again, one day there may not be a Mothra offspring to save humanity.