"A REALLY INTELLIGENT INTERVIEWER." -- Lance Henriksen "QUITE SIMPLY, THE BEST HORROR-THEMED BLOG ON THE NET." -- Joe Maddrey,Nightmares in Red White & Blue
Once you get two dyed-in-the-wool Godzillaphiles together, it seems you just can't keep them apart. And so, we come to the third installment of the crossover podcast series Monster Island Resort's Miguel Rodriguez and I have been recording--all about our mutual passion, Big G. This time out, we turn our attention away from the classic Showa series of the 1950s-1970s, and move on to the second series of Godzilla films.
Produced from the mid 1980s through the late 1990s, the Heisei series represented something of a rebirth for the giant lizard. There certainly was a lot of ground to cover, and many films to discuss; but Mr. Rodriguez and I were certainly up to the task. Listen in and join us, won't you?
As always, you have a couple of options. You can listen on the embedded player below, or proceed to the Vaultcast page and download it!
Well, kids, it's The Vault of Horror's third anniversary today--and what better way to celebrate than to regale you with my love for cheesy Japanese monsters and little boys in ridiculous shorts? That's right, it's time for another edition of Thursday Guilty Pleasure, brought to by yours truly and Missy Yearian of Chickapin Parish, the poor misguided soul who seems to derive joy from the nadir of Dario Argento's career. Read on...
Godzilla's Revenge (1968)
Speaking of nadirs, this happens to be, by everyone's estimation, the ultimate lowpoint of the entire classic Showa series of Godzilla films from Toho. To that I say, pshaw. That's right! Pshaw. Because Godzilla's Revenge--as you would know if you listened to my recent Vaultcast with Miguel Rodriguez--brings me, and has always brought me, a disproportionate amount of pleasure.
By the late 1960s, Toho had completely given in to the fact that the main fans of the Godzilla series were little children. And so, instead of trying to make truly excellent films like Ishiro Honda's original Gojira, they started cranking out blatant kiddie fare, created without any intention of being anything but fluff. But once you accept that this isn't Gojira...well, Godzilla's Revenge can be a whole lot of fun.
You've got the little boy Ichiro, who aroused more jealousy in me than any other cinematic boy aside from possibly Elliot in E.T. You see, Ichiro had a magical machine that could transport him to Monster Island to hang out Big G and the rest of the gang. OK, so he was only dreaming, but that didn't make it any less awesome to me. I wanted to be that boy, and I wanted to chill with Anguirus, Gorosaurus and the rest of the kaiju crew.
Then, of course, there's Minya. That's right, I was the world's biggest Minya fan. Godzilla's little son (although paternity was never incontrovertibly established) completely captured my imagination, with his Don Knotts-like voice and classic smoke-ring blowing abilities. Yes, he may be the most maligned member of the Japanese movie monster fraternity, but I'm not too much of a snob to admit I loved the goofy-looking guy--and somewhere, in my grown-up heart, I still do. So take that, purists!
Godzilla's Revenge is a whole lot fun--not to mention the perfect gateway Godzilla film for little kids. So let's all get off the high horse, kick back and enjoy it's silly goodness, shall we? After all, what better way to learn a lesson about how to deal with bullying than by watching Godzilla duke it out with something that looks like a cross between a giraffe and a cat?
And now, I toss it over to Ms. Yearian, and her Guilty Pleasure for this week...
Mother of Tears (2007)
There is something special about Italian horror, no? All of us genre fans have a little place in our heart for those crazy Italians—mostly Lucio Fulci and Dario Argento. They make what we like to call “style over substance” movies. Hell, I’ve never seen a Lucio Fulci movie make much sense. Argento, however, is somehow a master at this particular kind of filmmaking. His movies are generally among the most visually beautiful you’ll ever see (see Suspiria or Tenebre).
This is why I was so surprised to discover that he’d botched Mother of Tears so badly. Holy hell, is that movie a mess or what? I mean, the acting is abysmal. The visuals are absurd. The story makes no sense. It should be the greatest cinematic disappointment of the decade.
But for some reason, it just isn’t. Don’t get me wrong. This is one of the worst horror movies I have ever seen. It’s an absolute disaster. But I’ve got such a girl boner for it that I can hardly believe it. That’s right, folks. I love Mother of Tears.
What makes the movie such a treat is the absolute shamelessness with which Argento made it. From the beginning, wherein a woman is strangled with her own intestines, the film is an experiment in absurdity. If I were to give you a highlight reel, it would look like the worst films of the eighties (a decade Argento seems to still be stuck in). A good example of this is the monkey (is it really a monkey? A baboon? Who knows?) that chases Sarah all over Italy. One could also cite the people chasing her on the train, what with their decidedly Duran Duran hairdos and makeup stylings.
But the real treat of Mother of Tears is the titular witch. Sporting a big, bouncy hairdo and the glossiest red lips you’ve ever seen, she’s no more terrifying than your average glance at your family photo albums. Upon first seeing her, I thought, “What? This is the worst of the three mothers? But she’s so eighties!”
All right, all right, truth be told, when I first saw Mother of Tears, I thought it was awful. I thought it was the worst possible ending to a fantastic trilogy. But then I saw it again. And, I don’t know, folks. You’ve got to admire Argento’s moxy. He made one atrociously bad movie (and yes, a bad ending to the trilogy), but it’s sure got style, doesn’t it?
* * * * * * * * * *
Yes, you read correctly up there at the top. Today is the third birthday of The Vault of Horror--which began here, if you'd care to check out the very first, completely unimpressive post. So to just keep it brief, I'd like to thank everyone, both colleagues and readers alike, for supporting this blog and helping it grow into what it is today. I can assure you... you ain't seen nothing yet.
When last we left our lovable 40-story-tall radioactive dinosaur, he was shepherding a series that seemed to have hit a serious snag, both creatively and financially. And while there were certainly worse days ahead, Godzilla would have a few more classic moments in the sun before retiring to Monster Island for the first time in 1975...
Destroy All Monsters (1968)
In addition to having one of the coolest titles of any movie ever, this entry is an absolute kaiju-lover's wet dream, returning the series to its former glory. Featuring the largest assortment of monsters ever seen up to that point, the flick even managed to incorporate kaiju from other Toho franchises, such as Manda, Baragon and Gorosaurus. The opening credits alone, with its driving Akira Ifukube theme, is enough to get the hairs on the arm standing. Unfortunately, the Showa series would never again return to this level of quality.
Godzilla's Revenge (1969)a.k.a. All Monsters Attack
From one of the best, to one of the very worst. In fact, it's hard to imagine that this movie followed directly after the excellent Destroy All Monsters. Featuring a talking Minya, boatloads of stock footage from previous Godzilla films, and the beginning of the series' obsession with little boys in tiny shorts dubbed by women, this is the film which finally completes Godzilla's metamorphosis from terrifying force of nature to benevolent, kid-friendly superhero. Still, it's always good for a nostalgic laugh for those who grew up with it.
Godzilla vs. The Smog Monster (1971)
This one seems to generally divide Godzilla fandom. A trippy, radical departure from the 1960s entries, it was the product of an entirely different creative team, put together while series producer Tomoyuki Tanaka was temporarily incapacitated (Tanaka was apparently less than pleased when he returned). I, for one, love it. With its bizarre visuals, unusual bad guy and classic theme song "Save the Earth", this flick is truly in a class by itself amongst Godzilla movies. I will say that its one major problem is that it features the series' most boring, horribly paced fight sequences.
Godzilla on Monster Island (1972)a.k.a. Godzilla vs. Gigan
Gigan, the giant bionic bird-like creature with hooks for arms and a buzz saw in his belly, is truly one of Toho's greatest creations. It's just too bad he never really had the opportunity to be in a great Godzilla flick. This one is almost as panderingly juvenile as Godzilla's Revenge, with Big G and his buddy Anguirus actually speaking to each other in English (translated, a narrator informs us, from their monster language)! Plus, you have one of the series' most mind-numbingly dull plotlines, involving something about insectoid aliens taking human form to conquer the Earth somehow via a kaiju theme park (I know it sounds awesome, but it isn't). Not even the return of King Ghidorah can save this one.
Godzilla vs. Megalon (1973)
With Jun Fukuda back in place again as the series' regular director, things were not looking up for Godzilla in the 1970s. With perhaps the lowest budget of any Godzilla film, this is the movie that a lot of Godzilla-haters typically point to when generalizing about the sub-standard quality of these movies. The giant cockroach Megalon is one of the worst suits Toho ever created, plus the fight scenes are exceedingly goofy, often choreographed like wrestling matches. You do get the uber-cool robot Jet Jaguar, Toho's obvious nod to Ultraman. And at least the MST3K boys got to have some fun with it...
Godzilla vs. The Cosmic Monster (1974)a.k.a. Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla
For its final two entries in the original series, Toho somehow managed to summon up a bit of its former glory to deliver a couple of lesser gems. This one features the debut of Mechagodzilla, an inspired concept that pits the big guy against a robotic version of himself. There's also an interesting, mammalian kaiju by the name of King Ceasar who turns up to help Godzilla out. Interestingly, this is also perhaps the bloodiest of the Godzilla movies; kaiju gore, once forbidden by Toho, became more and more prevalent in '70s Godzilla flicks.
Terror of Mechagodzilla (1975)
Ishiro Honda triumphantly returns to helm the final entry in the series he kicked off 20 years earlier. Since Mechagodzilla had been such a hit, they brought him back again this time around, and added Titanosaurus, one of Toho's most underrated kaiju, for good measure. Unfortunately, not even the high quality of this last Showa flick--with its dark Ifukube score, stark imagery, and return to serious themes courtesy of Honda--was enough to save the franchise. Diminished ticket sales meant that the ol' rubber suit would be packed up in mothballs after this one--at least for a decade or so.
And thus the glorious Showa era of Godzilla came to a bittersweet end, a series that managed to find its creative legs right before the end, but nonetheless fizzled out after going to the well a few too many times. It would remain for an entirely new generation of kids outside Japan to discover the movies in the late 1970s and early 1980s thanks to TV syndication. And when the time was right in 1984, Toho resurrected the big guy and started the second major phase of his career.
Stripping away a lot of the camp that had accumulated over the previous decades and attempting to return the monster to its roots, the Heisei series of the 1980s and '90s would become the favorite for many a Godzilla fan that had longed for a more serious, better-budgeted approach. But although I enjoy all 28 movies in the series, it's the original 15 made between 1954 and 1975 that I find myself re-watching whenever I'm in the mood for some giant monster action. For my money, nothing made since has equaled the raw power of the first film, or the amusing fun of so many of the sequels.
In case you missed it, here's the first part of my loving dissection of Godzilla's original cinematic exploits, wherein I spotlighted the first, and best, of them all, 1954's Gojira. Now let's pick things up with the first sequel, and move on from there:
Godzilla Raids Again (1955)a.k.a. Gigantis the Fire Monster
I found it very confusing as a kid when the monster was referred to in the English-language version as Gigantis. Apparently, it had something to do with copyright issues for the American distributors. Whatever the name, I personally consider this to be the all-time low of the Showa series, pretty ironic considering it was the first follow-up to the classic original. The problem here is that the series has not yet hit its stride. The movie lacks the depth and gravity of Gojira, yet it also lacks the fun vibe of the sequels to come. In short, it's a bore. The human storyline is a far, paper-thin cry from the gripping drama of its predecessor, and it features Akira Ifikube's least remarkable Godzilla score. On the positive side, the film introduces us to that wonderful giant armadillo Anguirus, and marks Godzilla's first on-screen battle with another monster.
King Kong vs. Godzilla (1962)
For my money, this is when the Godzilla sequels really kick in. It's telling that there was a seven-year gap between Raids Again and this--perhaps Toho felt the need to go back to the drawing board and rethink the direction in which they were taking Big G. And boy did it pay off, because this is an epic confrontation that deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as cinematic dream matches like Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man and Freddy vs. Jason, yet perhaps even more impressive, since it represented a clash between characters owned by two different companies. This is a fun, all-out main event kaiju grudge match that sets a new tone for the series. If you can get past the rubber-suit King Kong (a far cry from Willis O'Brien's groundbreaking stop-motion work), and the retcon enlarging of the big guy to match up to Godzilla's size, this one is a great ride.
Mothra vs. Godzilla (1964)a.k.a. Godzilla vs. The Thing
Many consider this the best of the Showa Godzilla sequels, and I can understand why. It's the first time Toho had ever matched up two of their own creations, and the special effects are quite impressive for the studio. Legendary FX director Eiji Tsuburaya outdoes himself, using Disney's innovative compositing camera for some shots, as well as a bit of stop motion for some of the close-up fighting shots. The dubbing in the English version is probably the best you'll ever get from Toho films of this era, the human characters are all very engaging, and the songs Ifikube wrote for Mothra's tiny fairy twins are hauntingly memorable.
Ghidrah, the Three-Headed Monster (1964) This is another favorite of Godzilla fans, and introduces the giant lizard's greatest foe, the titular alien dragon. It features the largest assemblage of Toho all-stars yet seen at that point, as Mothra rallies Big G and Rodan to combat the extra-terrestrial menace. This film is also important because it marks the beginning of Godzilla's gradual evolution from villain to hero, as for the first time, he is fighting off a threat even worse than himself, thereby inadvertently benefiting the human race as a result.
Invasion of the Astro-Monster (1965)a.k.a. Godzilla vs. Monster Zero
There are some who point to this as the beginning of the series' downward slide in quality. I'll admit that it takes the camp absurdity to all-new levels, with Godzilla and Rodan kidnapped to the moon by brainwashing aliens, but I still consider it a lot of fun. By this point, the heft of the original film is completely gone, in favor of monster action and spectacle. Plus, we get the X-illians, the series' coolest alien invaders, who would return in 2005 for Godzilla's last outing, Final Wars.
Godzilla vs. The Sea Monster (1966) This is the first time director Ishiro Honda and composer Akira Ifikube stepped aside, and boy does it show. Lesser helmsman Jun Fukuda takes over for Honda, producing one of the most lackluster films in the series. The plot is forgettable, the suit looks cheaper than ever, and Godzilla's foe this time out, a giant lobster named Ebirah, is simply not up to snuff. This one is lacking in the grandiose sensibility of the ones that came before it.
Son of Godzilla (1967)
If you're looking for the point at which Toho decided to abandon the grown-ups and go for a predominantly kiddie audience, this would be it. Kaiju flicks had long been favorites of Japanese children, but this is the first time the studio seems to be outright pandering to them. We get the infamous smoke-ring blowing Minya, complete with a silly theme provided by Ifikube that's a far cry from the maestro's earlier masterpieces. And the suit used in this movie is probably the worst-looking one of them all, making the once-terrifying Godzilla look like a cartoon version of his former self.
There's no doubt that the series was slipping by this point, both in quality and box office receipts. But it would by no means be the end, and there were certainly some better days to come. Join me next time for part 3, in which Godzilla goes green, invades New York, battles a giant cockroach, and speaks his first on-screen dialogue (!).
Just eight short years ago, if someone had told me I'd one day be sitting at home on a Saturday night reviewing Godzilla movies, I'd have said they were goofier than a proverbial pet 'coon. But that's neither here nor there. I am here tonight to examine a movie series that has been near and dear to my heart ever since I was an enraptured five-year-old watching the Smog Monster slime that poor little cat on good ol' channel 9 the day after Thanksgiving.
Godzilla's filmic exploits are told in a total of 28 movies, generally divided into three distinct eras. But for those like myself, who grew up in the 1970s and early '80s discovering this bizarre world of giant monsters and erratic dubbing on syndicated TV, the original series of 15 flicks, running from 1954 to 1975, will always be the real deal.
Sure, the Heisei series of the 1980s and '90s amped up the special effects, and the recent Millennium series finally abandoned the often-dull human character storyline conceits in favor of wall-to-wall monster action. But for me, those later movies lacked the heart of Toho's so-called Showa series, unofficially named for the Showa Emperor Hirohito during whose reign it was created. They became more tied into the strange Japanese technology fetish and less about the human condition. And worst of all, they became far less fun.
So pardon me for focusing strictly on the movies that made me into a Godzilla fanatic in the first place. Partly because it's the starting point of the series and in such a category all its own, and partly because its 1:15 in the morning and this intro took far too long to write than I had imagined, I'm going to limit this first part to the original Gojira only. The next entry will deal with the first seven sequels, and the third entry will cover the latter seven sequels in the Showa series.
Gojira (1954)
The absolute high watermark of giant monster movies--and I'm including the original King Kong in that assessment. If you've only seen this film in its watered-down Americanized edit as Godzilla, King of the Monsters, you're doing yourself a major disservice. Seen in its original Japanese version, Gojira is a stark, terrifying vision, a horror film in the truest sense of the word. In fact, if you're wondering why I'm writing about Godzilla on a horror blog, than you've clearly never seen this film.
Not to take anything away from the many films that followed, but Gojira is infinitely better than any of them. This is not a fun popcorn flick, good for a laugh with your buddies. This is cinema--a viewing experience that moves, and provokes thought. From the opening titles--one of the single most powerful openings credit sequences of any movie, for my money--it grabs hold of you, and doesn't let go.
Made as it was less than a decade after the very real horrors of atomic warfare had wreaked havoc upon Japan, Gojira is a painful allegory that must've been quite difficult for native audiences of the time to get through. Scenes of decimated Tokyo, of victims bursting into flame, and hospitals overflowing with the maimed and their grieving families strike an all-too-familiar chord. No later Godzilla film would show the impact of the monster's attacks in such a personalized way.
There are no cities conveniently evacuated so the creature can safely go on a crowd-pleasing tear. The human element is never forgotten, and the scenes in which the monster emerges are filled with as much raw, grim horror as any fright film you'll ever see. There is a terrible inevitability to the creature's actions--he is a force of nature bringing death to mankind.
Director Ishiro Honda is masterful at creating this aura of fear, but massive amounts of credit must also go to score composer Akira Ifukube, whose music is inextricably tied to the power of the film. It is hard to imagine the movie without his iconic score, as much a part of Honda's work as Ennio Morricone's compositions are to the work of Sergio Leone. By turns insistently dire, broodingly nightmarish and profoundly sad, Ifukube's masterpiece of a score is among the most effective ever written.
* * * * * * * * * *
The series would never again reach such heights. But one could also argue that it would never again aspire to. The Godzilla films would go on to become enjoyable in entirely different, if not as artistically high-minded ways. Stay tuned for my next installment, in which Big G meets the eighth wonder of the world, goes to the moon, fights a giant lobster and even has a baby--all the while become more and more likable. Who knew?
Once you get two dyed-in-the-wool Godzillaphiles together, it seems you just can't keep them apart. And so, we come to the third installment of the crossover podcast series Monster Island Resort's Miguel Rodriguez and I have been recording--all about our mutual passion, Big G. This time out, we turn our attention away from the classic Showa series of the 1950s-1970s, and move on to the second series of Godzilla films.
