Rating: NR
Run Time: 96 minutes
Director: Ishiro Honda
Starring: Takashi Shimura, Akihiko Hirata, Akira
Takarada
I do not fear the explosive power of the atomic bomb. What I fear is the
explosive power of evil in the human heart. ~Albert
Einstein
Godzilla/Gojira is an acknowledged classic of
fantasy cinema. Perhaps it
is not flawless, but it's damned close. Its pace is largely unflagging,
even in the human interest sections (which contribute to the considerable contextual
depth within the film). Those sections that punctuate the monster
action elucidate the themes (Japanese fatalism, fear of the destructive power
of science and technology, the psychic scars that afflict the survivors of a
terrible national tragedy), symbolism (the monster itself), and origins (what
are they exactly? We don’t really know)
surrounding Godzilla; they are what makes the beast (as we all know from
viewing the movie or reading example upon example of critiques or reviews that
dissect this film) a very particularly Japanese metaphor for nuclear
annihilation.
The opening of the movie, even
after all these years, is stunning. The
experience is first an aural one. The
opening sound we hear is like that of a telephone post striking a solid metal wall. There is a consistent rhythm to its
beat. Over this is tracked
another very loud noise, as yet unidentified, that can only be described as
some amalgam of metallic moorings ripping asunder and the hybrid of an
elephant’s and lion’s roar. This
immediately precedes the score and main theme. It has been described elsewhere in
these terms, but I find the word to be so apt that I cannot and do not want to
avoid using it. The theme
is, in a word, martial. The
sharp staccato pulses of the strings increases the urgency and tension inherent
in the music. The root note or key rises
an octave. The dynamism of
the theme establishes an expectation for what we see later in the movie;
it is foreboding and apprehensive all the while. The score is the work of
Akira Ifukube, and it must rank among the greatest pieces of theme music in any
fantastic film within the history of the genre.
We open on the Eiko Maru, a large
fishing boat in the Japanese Sea. Crew
members are gathered on deck relaxing, when they observe a large and powerful
light just beneath the plane of the water’s surface. The light is pulsating as if from some
power source that waxes and wanes. This ominous
occurrence is proceeded by a shot of the ship engulfed in flames. Actually it is a shot of a miniature
ship set afire with lighter fluid and a match, floating in a large swimming
pool beyond which is a matte drawing. While
we’re on the subject, the pulsating light itself is probably a large, high
wattage light bulb insulated by a waterproofed electrical line, just beneath
the surface of the water (I’m not certain how the strobe effect is achieved,
although that would be easy enough to jerry-rig). ANNOYING ASIDE THAT ADDS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING
TO THIS REVIEW: you know the sort of light I’m talking about:
people with lake front property sometimes put them in the water just beyond the
shoreline to attract bug; then the bugs attract the fish. Anyway, and
this is the salient aspect of this whole digression, it would seem that
whatever is the origin from which the light emanates is an incredibly
powerful source of
energy.
A cascade of events ensues upon
the inexplicable loss at sea of the Eiko.
A sister ship, the Bingo Maru, is sent by the owner, South Sea Shipping
(highly original, n’est-ce pas?) to search for the first vessel. It suffers the same fate. Three lone
survivors of the Bingo alight on the shore of Ohto Island, a fishing village, where
they then tell a strange story. Then
a third ship
disappears (now at this point, I was beginning to think, “fuck, people, it
might be time to revisit your rescue process; send a damn helicopter next time”
– then again, choppers never fare well in these nature run amok movies either;
think Jaws or Grizzly). A reporter is sent to investigate the claims
of the three survivors of the Bingo and a local village fisherman from Ohto who
raves of seeing a monster while on the sea. During this journalist's stay, a
violent storm rages on the island. Simultaneously
occurring with that storm are those same eerie flashing lights and the
destruction of several village structures…and the helicopter used to transport
the reporter (see what I mean?). What is
more, we hear a terrible roar that sounds suspiciously like the one
accompanying the opening theme music (the sound a metallic elephant would make).
Back in town, and by that I mean Tokyo,
it would appear that the same guy who works for South Sea Shipping and was
sent to salvage one of the lost ships, Hideto Ogato (Akira
Takarada), is the secret boyfriend of Emiko Yamane (Momoko
Kōchi), whose father just coincidentally happens to be the famed
paleontologist and marine biologist, Kyohai Yamane (the great Akira Kurosawa
lent one of his very favorite actors, Takashi Shimura, to his good friend, Ishiro
Honda). Now, I’m not a scientist, but
that strikes me as rather implausible academic cross-training in disparate
disciplines, doesn’t it? in any event, it
is he who is tasked with forming an expedition to Ohto Island to investigate
claims of some sort of enormous sea serpent, an idea that has gained media time
because of the confluence of different
witnesses talking essentially the same
shit.
Why do they send a paleontologist slash marine biologist at
this juncture, you might ask? Well, it’s not just the three Bingo survivors and the
Ohto Island fisherman who are raving about this gigantic beast. The crazed village idiot (and every village
has one; although, as I recall, the village of my birth seemed to have a
disproportionately larger number than most) starts in about a monster he calls “Godzilla,”
a legendary carnivorous dinosaur-like creature who lives in the sea.
This creature has been known to destabilize the fishing economy of the island from
time to time and has occasionally come ashore to devour its human inhabitants
(as this villager is the sole adherent to the legend, it would seem that
Godzilla hasn't made an appearance in quite a few years; one suspects that the
mythic tale has been passed to only a select few such as he). Also, a
child whose home was one of the huts destroyed in the storm claims to have seen
some giant monster leaving the scene of the mayhem which claims the lives of
his brother and mother, leaving him orphaned and homeless (which, I suppose,
will make him a good candidate to fill the role of the next generation’s
prophetic village dunce). Hmmm…maybe the crazy old bastard isn’t so
crazy as he seems.
Perhaps the Japanese authorities
are willing to entertain the idea of a giant prehistoric sea monster, but
the introduction of Kyohai always seems to me at least a little
premature. Even the island’s
inhabitants at least initially dismiss the claims of the old
villager (again, whose tale’s beast must be a legend he himself has never
personally seen; either there would be, in the current age within which he is
living, direct evidence of the existence of Godzilla and other villagers who had seen the monster, or Ohto Island’s
secret is as well kept as the location of Skull Island). The young boy’s statement regarding
what he saw, although we know it to be true, could as easily be dismissed as
the result of shock, grief, and susceptibility to the story of the old
man.
Meanwhile, the send-off to the
expedition is witnessed by a mysterious man, thin, wearing an eyepatch with an
enigmatic expression on his face; this is Dr. Daisuke Serizawa (Akihiko Hirata). He used to be Emiko’s squeeze, or at least
they are betrothed or were engaged or something along those
lines (Emiko eventually breaks up with the slightly sinister doctor some time
later, clearing the path for Hideto). The
injury that necessitates the eyepatch is never explained, but he’s got that
thousand yard stare (which must be taxing for a guy with only one eye) and we
are perhaps encouraged to wonder if he has terrible personal knowledge of the
destruction at Nagasaki or Hiroshima (in which event, really, he ought to be
glad he’s not a gelatinous stain somewhere or that he doesn’t have three or
four eyes to cover up).
Daisuke is the last of the four
lead actors, and his character, motivation, and scientific acumen is of extreme
importance to the outcome of the movie. I’ve
already at least alluded to this, but the triumph of Godzilla over just about any other daikaju eiga (giant monster
movie), including its many sequels and save for the great 1933 King Kong, is that the story itself is
rich with both text and sub-text in equal measure. Godzilla himself is both a monster and a
metaphor. The central human players are
sympathetic and their characterization is reasonably well-developed for a
monster movie. In Dr. Yamani, Brody,
Hooper, and Quint are one. Within the
aspirations of the young lovers, Emiko and Hideto, lies the phoenix-like
resolve of a broken nation to heal itself…if only they and the Japanese people
can withstand Godzilla’s assault. And, most
significantly, in Dr. Serizawa, a morally complex character who further elucidates
the complex thematic material that illustrates the predicament of a modern nation-state
that nearly precipitated its own destruction trying to fulfill chauvinistic imperial
ambitions; the character epitomizes self-loathing, survivor guilt, shame,
arrogance.
Anyway, the expedition ships
out to Ohto Island and, upon arrival, begins its investigation. The scientists find areas on the
island contaminated by massive amounts of radiation and a gigantic
footprint in the eddies of which is a living trilobite, an oceanic arthropod
long since believed extinct. While all this is being discovered and
pondered upon, the village alarm bell is sounded and its people clamor to more
fortified areas. Dr. Kyohai
is just climbing the incline of a large hill when the sound of that awful roar
is heard and over the hill appears…a ferocious…wait, what is it?...ohmigod it’s
a…it’s a fucking hand-puppet, that’s what it is.
That’s right, the first time we
see this most iconic of all fictional Japanese daikaiju eiga, its monstrous
visage horrendous and awesome, Godzilla’s a damned hand-puppet. And not a
particularly good one, either. Points
off. The admittedly bad taste left in the modern viewer's mouth is
redeemed almost immediately by a spectator POV shot of those atop the hill
who stare down at the beach from above, where there is visible of the
monster’s temporary return to the sea.. This
is a great shot.
Kyohai returns to testify in a
government hearing convened on the subject, where he unveils evidence of
Godzilla’s existence. Extraordinarily,
he shows them a photo of the hand puppet.
Instead of saying, “Hey, that’s a fucking shitty hand-puppet, Kyohai,”
the politicians are aghast at what they see (for the wrong damn reason). He is asked what can be done, and after
speculating about its likely origins and coupling that with the indication that
it has been immeasurably strengthened by the atomic energy it has ingested, he
pretty much concludes by saying there’s really not a damned thing that can kill
Godzilla. Now you may ask yourself,
“What the fuck does a paleo-marine biologist know about killing a 200ft, therapod-like
reptilian creature that breathes fire?”
And right you would be, I think.
Kyohai is a scientist.
Serizawa, on the other hand, is
both a scientist and a researcher/inventor. One of his most recent inventions is a thing
called a Motherfucking Oxygen Destroyer (sans the motherfucking), and the bad
bitch does as its name suggests. In
fact, he has shown the technology to Emiko, who was justly horrified, as is
Serizawa himself. It’s been a while
since last I saw Godzilla, so I
don’t remember if he was threatening when he did so, like, “Bitch, this is what
I’ll do to you if you break up with me!
If I can’t have you, no one can…moo-hahahahaha!” I’m pretty sure he doesn’t. but does swear her to secrecy, one she feels
compelled to break when she realizes it may be the one thing that can save Japanese and the world from the monster’s
destructive wrath.
I don't want to say much more
about the movie, other than to concur with those who believe Godzilla is one of the greatest giant monster
movies ever made, second only to King Kong. In 1952, the first time since the dawn
of the atomic age, King Kong was re-released and made more money
than ever (apparently more than any previous re-issue of the classic; more even
than the movie made in its original run in 1933). A canny producer thought there might
be a market for a new giant monster movie. Ray Harryhausen convinced him that
such a monster could be achieved realistically and fairly inexpensively, just
as Kong had been. That
movie was The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms and it, too, made a fair sum of
money. It also introduced
the concept that atomic bomb testing might unleash or even create monstrosities
we as a society were ill-equipped to face on any number of levels,
logistically, politically, culturally.
Across the ocean, a rising star
of Japan’s Toho Studios, the producer, Tomoyuki Tanaka, was similarly
canny and conceived of a very Japanese incarnation of much the same concept. I am going to say very little on the
next subject, because it has been said elsewhere with more eloquence and
thoughtfulness than I might bring to bear, but very simply, for those of you
who, like me, are not the most adept at recognizing symbol or allegory:
Godzilla is a metaphor for the atomic bomb. It is, for the Japanese people, a very
distinct and unique symbol, and a horrifying one. The point is explicitly made more than
once in the film. It
permeates the mood of the movie entirely. The annihilation of Tokyo is merely
the denouement; the climax of the movie a reiteration of the same.
Random Thoughts/Interesting
Tidbits
Unlike the giant ants of THEM!,
yet similar to the Rhedosaurus of The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms,
Gojira was not created (or, more accurately, genetically
altered/mutated) by nuclear radiation, but initially awakened after many years
and then strengthened by it. He
consumes the radiation somehow and, instead of being destroyed by it, is
further empowered. He
breathes flame and his stegosaurus-like dorsal fins simultaneously
glow.
While I joke about the
hand-puppet and other somewhat mildly unconvincing aspects of the f/x work, it
doesn’t sully the film for me at all. I
have always been a fool for miniature models of cities, planes, helicopters,
tanks and such (countrysides, too, such as in War of the Gargantuas). When I see the burning boats, I know
they are models in a swimming pool set afire by a match and lighter
fluid. Yet, while
artificial, the effects do not look cheap or shoddy, and I for one can believe
there are men burning alive in those flames (itty-bitty men, maybe, but men
nonetheless). If I am not mistaken, the f/x guru responsible for this
work, including Godzilla's rubber suit, was Eiji Tsuburaya. The man
who wore than suit and imbued the monster with motion and menace, for quite a
long time, was Haruo Nakashima. These early
creators are important people. If
contemporary SFX artisans are great, it is only because these men and women
stand on the shoulders of the legendary giants who preceded them and were
arguably greater than they (because all they had to work with were rubber
bands, sticks, and glue).
Anyway, on what was clearly
a limited budget that was probably largely expended between director Ishiro
Honda, a contemporary and friend of Akira Kurosawa; Takashi Shimura,
also one of Kurosawa’s most favored actors; and the massive
miniature set of Tokyo, there was likely not much remaining for even the Gojira
suit itself. Given the limitations, it is impressive what
the creativity and ingenuity of the SFX crew was able to accomplish.
Lastly, for those of you who
would like to read what I consider to be the best review and critique of Godzilla that I have yet read
(passionate, profound, and well-articulated), see Lyz Kingsley's
critique at “And You Call Yourself a Scientist.” Truly, if it has been argued similarly
but better elsewhere, a reviewer should defer to that source; if I had anything
original to say beyond what she has already said, which I doubt, it is through
pure serendipity. Her reviews are
informed, comprehensive, and often, laugh-out-loud hilarious. And she does it without profanity, a feat I
find extremely difficult.
The Horror Inkwell Rating: 10/10
