The Green Slime (1968)

directed by Kinji Fukasaku, Katsuhiko Taguchi

Japan, USA

90 minutes

4 stars out of 5

____

Is it just something in your head?? Will you believe it when you're DEAD??? GREEEN SLIIIME!!!

I think I could probably count on one hand the number of times I've rewatched a movie and had my opinion of it change as much as it did when I watched Green Slime for the second time last night. What I remembered watching three or so years back was a movie with fun SFX that was bogged down by a love triangle subplot that the Japanese cut of the film had the right idea in shortening. What I watched last night, though, was a well-paced, rollicking good time, with characters who aren't actually that annoying if you can make peace with the fact that their roles are more or less perfunctory.

I am going to skip right into talking about the film's visual effects, because they are frankly pretty stupendous. Especially its color palette. It's so intense and in-your-face that it almost shouldn't work: the reds aren't just red, they're the deepest, bloodiest, almost glowing scarlet that you've ever seen; the greens aren't just green, they're visceral, chlorophyllic, vegetal. The choice to contrast the two and have the rogue planetoid that the green slime is native to be so pervasively red is really striking. For about the first half-hour of Green Slime, the foremost thought on my mind was The Color out of Space. Film adaptations of the story seem to unanimously agree that the titular color should be visually depicted as a kind of violet-reddish-purple, but to me, no movie has ever (unintentionally) captured what I think the color should look like better than Green Slime. Although it's dated, the film does an excellent job at making the alien planet look like how an alien planet in a sci-fi movie should: not realistic, but visually arresting.

It's not just the slime and the alien planet, either: the Gamma-III space station is also a masterpiece of late-1960s interior design, with many set-pieces that look to have been fully ornamental. It reminded me of spaceships in the Gamera series, how they look absolutely ridiculous but pleasing to the eye, like little art sculptures flying around in space. Even the Gamma-III crew compliments the film's overall aesthetic with their understated uniforms, in a narrow selection of solid, off-primary colors, and the way the film stock captures their hair color and complexion.

And then there's these weird little shuffling one-eyed alien babies who scream and wave their arms around all the time. You can't overlook how inherently ridiculous the Green Slime are (it does seem to be plural; the aliens are never given a name in-universe and the tagline announces that "the Green Slime are coming"), and maybe that's okay. Their silliness feels right at home with how visually elaborate everything else about this movie is. That there are so many of them has always been interesting to me: usually a kaiju movie will have one suit and perhaps a maquette version and/or a cruddier alternate suit for use in underwater scenes, but there's a whole plethora of these guys just kicking it on the space station, traveling everywhere in small herds like schoolchildren crossing the street. They're honestly really cute. I felt bad every time one of them got poked in the eye, which happens much more often than you might think. I guess when your head consists almost entirely of eye, it makes for an easy target.

The movie is, as I said, much better-paced than I remembered it being. It introduces us to the slime fairly quickly, and once the slime is loose on the spaceship, the action pretty much never stops until the end credits roll. If there's anything I mildly dislike about this, it is that love triangle. Dr. Lisa Benson (Luciana Paluzzi) is unfortunate enough to be aboard the station with both her fiancé and her former lover, who are intent on making their mutual involvement with her a big deal while she, meanwhile, seems pretty much fine with it and just wants to do her job. It is frustrating to watch Dr. Benson repeatedly be the voice of reason, only to have her level-headed suggestions and observations met with either of the two male leads going "No, I'm gonna do something really stupid instead".

But, all in all, it's great stuff. At a tight 90 minutes, I no longer feel like the Japanese cut, with its lopped-off runtime, is the superior one. It may not be the most cerebral science fiction out there, but it knows what it's doing and the people making it were at the top of their game in terms of visual effects. Weird that this was directed by the same guy who did Cops vs. Thugs, but that's how it is sometimes.

From Odo Island to the Big Island: 70 Years of Godzilla in Hawai'i

(I'm publishing this simultaneously to my other blog.)

Last year, we celebrated 70 years of the first Godzilla film, and next year, we'll celebrate 70 years of its American recut, Godzilla! King of the Monsters. But this year was the 70th anniversary of something that, I would argue, is even more interesting: the opening of the Hawaiian run of the original Godzilla. The newspaper clippings I'm going to present below are the very first English-language reviews of the film, and the version of it that critics were watching was uncut, un-Raymond-Burred, and English-subtitled. 

I'm going to do my best to cover some of Hawai'i's rich theater heritage in this post, but for a wider exploration of the subject, you absolutely must read Lowell Angell's Theaters of Hawai'i.

Part I: Hawaii Times

On October 3rd, the first rumblings began... a tiny ad on the second page of the paper indicated that something unusual was on its way. In recent years, Hawaii Times had reviewed contemporary American sci-fi and horror movies: Creature from the Black Lagoon, Invaders from Mars, etc, but the Japanese films that were being shown at the three theaters covered by the paper's film department (the Kokusai/International, the Toyo, and the Nippon) were markedly different. Mother dramas were overwhelmingly popular, as were musical comedies starring the likes of Hibari Misora and Chiemi Eri, and if there was any hint of genre fare, it was in the form of kaidan films; many starring Takako Irie, all jidaigeki. This was the first modern Japanese monster movie, set in modern times, and it must have come as a shock.

On opening night, Hawaii Times previewed the film. In both the preview and the review from a few days later, the face of the film is Takashi Shimura, the only member of the cast who Hawaiian audiences would have been familiar with. HT's film reviewer, James T. Hamada, conjectures that the film's cast of young unknowns may have contributed to the theater being fairly empty during the premiere. (If I may interject, Hamada had seen Akihiko Hirata three months earlier in Itsuko and Her Mother, and Hamada's review marks the first time Hirata's name appeared in an English-language publication.)

Us Godzilla fans tend to have great respect for Raymond Burr for reprising his Steve Martin role in Godzilla 1985 because he genuinely cared for Godzilla, despite warnings that it would be bad for his image, and I don't think it would be too much of a reach to say we could probably feel the same way about Takashi Shimura. I don't know Shimura's personal feelings about being in the movie, but without a recognizable actor like him, Godzilla's initial appeal in the West may have been even lower.

Hamada's review of the film appeared in the October 6th edition, in a much longer column than was usually given to film reviews. It is fascinating. Hamada had some qualms about the movie's realism in practical terms, but praised its special effects right off the bat.

The most interesting thing to me here is that Hamada seems to understand that the film intends to present Godzilla as one of a species, and accordingly he uses the word "godzilla" without capitalization and as a plural, the way one would say "dogs" or "cats". Hamada comes away from the movie with the idea that "a godzilla" is something like a made-up species of dinosaur. The takeaway: Godzilla is not a character yet. Godzilla is just a big animal.

As someone who has not infrequently been the only person seeing a movie, when Hamada says "70 or 80 persons" attended the screening, that sounds like a fair amount to me. But the Kokusai could seat 1,200 people. Announced in 1939 and opening officially in 1941 with design by Hego Fuchino, it was one of many theaters in Honolulu, sitting in the 'A'ala Park district right next door to the Toyo, which also showed Japanese films, including some produced by Toho. After and during the war the theater was often referred to as the "International", the English translation of its name.

photo courtesy of Edna Kijinami, from the flickr account of Chie Gondo

The Kokusai, at its opening, was owned by Sanji Abe, president of Kokusai Kogyō. In September of 1942, Abe was arrested and placed into an internment camp for allegedly owning a Japanese flag. He was transferred between three different internment camps until being paroled in 1944 and released from parole in February of 1945. He would return to promoting and importing Japanese films after the war.

Part II: Honolulu Star-Advertiser

I include this as it does fit the scope of this article, but I should note that the balloon was not a strictly Hawaiian story. The above clipping was actually taken from the October 19th, 1954 edition of The Plain Speaker, published in Hazleton, Pennsylvania; Honolulu Star-Bulletin re-ran it in December of that year. You will notice that the publication date is several weeks before even the first limited-release screenings of Godzilla within Japan. This means that Americans were aware of Godzilla from the very, very beginning. Photos of the balloon must have made their way from Tokyo to American newspaper offices within days.

As for Honolulu Star-Advertiser's coverage of the film itself, it was fairly extensive. William W. Davenport writes about the film after having seen a showing at the Kokusai, the same theater featured above. This clipping is from the October 7th, 1955 edition.

Although this article feels more sensational than Hamada's, several takeaways can be made. Davenport, for whatever reason, does not seem to be aware of the Romanized spelling "Godzilla" and uses "Gojira" throughout his review. He baldly spoils the film's ending but refuses to describe the Oxygen Destroyer in detail. We also learn that an advertising short film played after Godzilla: a "musical documentary on the soft drink industry" produced by your friend and mine Bireley's. I have to say, I can't really tell what the critic makes of the film itself, but he seems impressed with Godzilla as a monster.

Part III: Hawaii Tribune-Herald

The first Hawaii Tribune-Herald mention of the film is used on Wikipedia to claim that the earliest English usage of the name "Godzilla" occurred on November 20th, 1955, which, as we have seen from the Hawaii Times material above, is not true at all.

Not to get personal or anything, but when I read "Walked home afterward under comforting stars, never so big and brilliant. Hua caught up with me presently. 'I saw Godzilla, too,' he said." I wanted to cry. Imagine walking home under the beautiful night sky in Hawai'i with your friend after being one of the first people to watch Godzilla outside of Japan.

This second mention is vanishingly small, only an ad, but it introduces us to our next theater. I want to mention the Mooheau Theater because it only existed for a scant six years after showing Godzilla and was then destroyed in a tsunami. As this ad is from November 5th, either the writer of the above review saw the film in another theater, or was recollecting his experience after the film had left local theaters. The author would not have seen it at the Kokusai as this paper was published in Hilo, not Honolulu.

Because the theater was destroyed such a long time ago, most information I have about it is anecdotal. It apparently existed as far back as the late 1910s, and it seems that it began showing Filipino and Japanese imports sometime around the 1940s. One Lawrence Akutagawa writes in a Google Groups post (that I'm really not even sure should be public) that the Mooheau catered to "more formal Japanese dance" and was, like the Kokusai, situated on a street with several other theaters.

Wreckage of Mooheau Street, credit to Craig Miyamoto

Part IV: Further Historical Context

Most theaters during this time were single-screen. Movies rotated in and out of Hawaii's theaters relatively quickly, since, basically, if you can't show a bunch of movies at the same time, you have to show a bunch of movies in rapid succession instead. From my own research, I found that some films would become massively popular (such as Hideo Ōba's Always in My Heart, which was evidently a smash success) and be held over or return for several repeat runs, but this was fairly rare during the 1953-1955 years that my research focused on. It's frustrating that we can't get a clear picture of attendance for Godzilla during its original run, and anything I come up with would be total conjecture, but if we assume that attendance was low at the Kokusai and probably much lower at the Mooheau (Hilo circa 1950 had some 200,000+ less people living there than Honolulu), allowing for a week-long run in both theaters would give us numbers perhaps in the low- to mid-thousands.

I unfortunately couldn't drag up any interior photos of either the Kokusai or the Mooheau, but this is the Waikiki Theater, which sat 1,353 people, and so would have been a roughly similar size to the Kokusai.

The interior of Honolulu's Toyo theater. From State Historic Preservation Office.

Another solution to not having multiple screens within one theater was to just have a lot of theaters. It may seem odd to us today to think of a street with several movie theaters on it, sometimes right next door to each other, but again, we have to consider that these theaters were single-screen and often specific film companies would have vested interest in them - so one theater would specialize in Daiei films and rarely show anything else, or another theater would frequently host traditional dance performances along with movies, et cetera.

(I am, out of necessity, focusing on theaters that showed Japanese films mostly or exclusively, but I don't want to make it sound like these were the only theaters in Hawai'i; due to its incredibly diverse population, theaters showed imported films in a multitude of languages, as well as your usual run-of-the-mill American oaters and sweeping melodramas.)

Another early Japanese theater, the Honolulu-za, ca. late 1930s-early 1940s. From Hawai'i State Archives.

One last thing to consider is that the concept of a movie having English subtitles was, at least in this specific time and place, fairly new. From context it seems like the bulk of the audience for imported Japanese features during the early- to mid-1950s were people who could actually understand Japanese - unlike today, when it's easy for anybody who doesn't speak a lick of the language to see subtitled features in a theater. The following is an article from mid-1954 concerning the recent introduction of English subtitles to the Japanese features playing at the Nippon Theater, and it takes possibly the most logical tack towards subtitles that I've ever heard: if you don't need 'em, don't read 'em.

Therefore, despite what may seem like a very small and limited run, Godzilla arrived at a time where the odds were actually more in its favor in terms of reaching a larger audience than they may have been just a few years prior, when it would not have been subtitled.

Conclusions

I know this was a boring one. Thanks for reading. I have to go to bed now.

No, really. The popular opinion of the Godzilla series in America has historically been a matter of clueless Westerners poking fun at the sweaty guys in rubber suits bonking each other around while ineffectual miniature planes on visible wires fly overhead. We have held that opinion because what of Godzilla that has reached our shores has largely been an adulterated form of the original work: ever since Godzilla, King of the Monsters! we've been fed recuts and bad dubs, pan-and-scans and late-nite TV reruns. We are of course in the kaiju renaissance now: "tokusatsu" is a word in the dictionary, Minus One won an Oscar, Eiji Tsuburaya has been inducted into the Special Effects Hall of Fame, there is a vague sense within academia that Japanese monster movies may be worth looking at closely.

But I want us to remember that there has always been an undercurrent of admiration for these films. From the very earliest days, there have been people appreciating Godzilla films. I want us to know that before the SNL skits and the MST3k episodes there were people like James T. Hamada who saw that something respectable was being done - that the effects were, in fact, good. I want us to think about walking home under the stars in the late autumn cool, talking to our friends about the giant lizard we just saw level Tokyo, the paleontologist and his empathy for the creature, the star-crossed lovers, the scientist fighting with his own conscience, and what it all meant.

Earth Defense Girl Iko-chan (1987)

directed by Minoru Kawasaki

Japan

47 minutes

4.5 stars out of 5

____

The last movie I watched before this one was Hideo Gosha's Goyokin. Only real cinema for me, thank you.

It's easy to put on Earth Defense Girl Iko-chan and just think "oh, this is bad". I admit I thought that at the start. This is compounded by the fact that I still haven't quite figured Minoru Kawasaki out, despite how many of his films I've watched; I'm never entirely sure when he intends for us to laugh at something and when we're meant to be laughing with it. But the further Iko-chan goes, the clearer things become: Kawasaki understands tokusatsu intimately. I don't think - and I could be wrong here, because I still haven't read any statements from the director himself - any of this is intended in a mean-spirited way. Tokusatsu is the kind of thing where even though us fans love it dearly and defend its genuine artistic merit wholeheartedly, we are, at least every once in a while, guilty of laughing at it a little when it's not trying to be funny.

The protagonist of the film is Iko Kawai, a schoolgirl of no particular importance until she chances upon an alien who gives her a magical pink headset that can give her special powers and grant wishes. Iko, being possessed of a pure heart, uses the headset to stop a rampaging kaiju by communicating with it and finding out that it's not really mad or hateful, it just doesn't like living in a monstrous body that it never asked to be born in. (So right off the bat there's your transgender subtext.) She shrinks it down to a smaller size and it eventually repays the favor later on in the film. From there, as a matter of course, Iko finds herself drawn to the obligatory vaguely useless defense team, which counts among their members a very useless kyodai hero. Tension ramps up when Iko helps out two wounded Martians who tell her that their planet has been taken over by an evil dictator who plans on deploying a bomb that kills all humans but leaves everything else untouched.

If this sounds goofy, it's because it is. And it's meant to be. Akiko Isozaki, who plays Iko, is very obviously not a great actress, but she does feel like she's trying, and that authentically amateur performance accounts for a lot of Iko's charm. The kaiju suits and puppets are inordinately good for something this low-budget (I genuinely thought they'd managed to commandeer a Baragon suit for a few seconds) and the acting behind them is also top-notch - god, those Martians, the puppeteers really knew how to get emotion out of a face that has about as much expression as Kermit the Frog when someone's hand is up him. This movie is silly but it isn't cynical. It's exactly what the people who made it wanted it to be.

I can't really put my finger on exactly what it is about this movie that makes it so good, but it is So Good. I'm going to quote from its current top review on Letterboxd by the eloquent and well-stated "PeepeeDoodooBitch ?" to make up for my lack of insight: "[...]pure and unadulterated passion that manifests in the form of over ambitious props and special effects, fast little story lines carefully crafted to utilize all of the film’s minuscule budget, and gloriously weird moments and plots that are absent of studio interference. "

Crab Goalkeeper (2006)

directed by Minoru Kawasaki

Japan

80 minutes

4 stars out of 5

____

Happy Marine Day.

I made a mistake by going into this film thinking I knew what it would be like. I would have watched it sooner, but I had a preconceived notion of it according to Kawasaki's other "animal with job" movies and, while I do like those, some of them get a little tiresome when the jokes fail to land. But Crab Goalkeeper is so much more than an "animal with a job" movie. It's an often fairly brutal assessment of the value society places on ability to work as a measure of personal worth, but at the same time it's also a testament to the power of being genuinely kind in the face of a world that is too quick to leave people behind. I am dead serious when I say that you could apply Marxist praxis to this movie if you tried hard enough.

We begin the movie with a giant crab washing up on a beach, being kicked and hit with sticks by several boys. Our main(-ish) human character Shinichi rescues the crab, takes it back to his home, and teaches it to speak - in secret at first, but you can only hide a big, beautiful crab for so long. Shinichi's parents are constantly squabbling about the kinds of issues adults have: money, usually; it seems to be all they talk about, and it prevents them from seeing each other as real people. All they are is bodies who either can or can't, will or won't, make money. After Shinichi's parents discover the crab, their immediate thought is to sell it. His father even recounts a story of how his own father cooked and ate a pet chicken he had while describing how he fully intends to do the same thing to Shinichi's crab for money. The crab is never - can never - simply be a crab. Humans are only capable of viewing the crab as a commodity, not as a friend, not as a living, feeling being. In this way the crab is not only an example of the way capitalism makes us all cogs in the machine but perhaps, specifically, a spotlight on the unfair treatment of immigrants: if you wash up on our shore, you'd better make yourself useful.

One of the most interesting and unexpected things about this movie is its treatment of women. The crab, being automatically marginalized due to its appearance, ends up in contact with a lot of people who are equally marginalized in society - mostly sex workers. The film never, ever objectifies these women or presents them as anything other than people doing a job - a job that, because of their gender, leaves them specifically open to violence and exploitation. This the crab also experiences: it has the ability to generate foam when it's thirsty, so it's forced to work in a bubble bath brothel. All it wants to do is make enough money that it can go home and see its family, but it's forced to use its body to the point of exhaustion because its body - its ability to produce foam, its rich crab miso - is its only value.

I would be remiss not to mention that the crab itself has agency in all of this. The crab's personality is extremely childlike, and as has been demonstrated time and again, often the best way to point out the cruelty of the world in fiction is by making a character who is totally innocent be forced to navigate a harsh reality that has no intention of being kind to them. The crab, no matter what happens to it, is completely earnest in its zeal for life and its love of the people around it. The crab is totally accepting: it understands that Etsuko, the woman it befriends as she's about to kill herself after getting scammed out of all her money multiple times, is not stupid, just naive - something like itself. The crab demonstrates that it is worth giving people the grace we wish we'd be given ourselves. And it's not that the crab does all of this on purpose: it's born with this kindness by virtue of not having been corrupted by the caprices of human society. When Etsuko gets scammed again after the crab gives her several million yen that it made to repay her debts, it doesn't think twice about whether or not to help her. It doesn't judge. The crab is a better person than most people.

I was expecting some kind of humor out of this, but honestly, aside from the situational comedy of watching a giant crab who can only walk sideways get itself into trouble, there's very little about this that I would call funny. Okay, one thing was funny: the way they didn't edit out the rubbery, squeaky noises the crab suit made every time it moved. Other than that, I really just loved this for what it says about the inherent worth of a being outside of their ability to participate in capitalism and for how pure and good the crab was. Hiroshi Fujioka is also there, I guess.

Cinema.

Godzilla vs. Hedorah (1971)

directed by Yoshimitsu Banno

Japan

85 minutes

4 out of 5 stars

----

Godzilla vs. Hedorah is a tonal nightmare. Environmental horror presented through a lens of dancing hippies, random Mt. Fuji jam sessions, giant flying sludge piles, and a cuddly, heroic Godzilla. While focusing on the things that make vs. Hedorah such a distinct entry within the series is useful for talking about it as an individual film, I think emphasizing those traits can have a tendency to make it seem like this film does not fit with the overall tone of the Godzilla series. Especially on my most recent rewatch, it's very obvious to me that Banno and everyone involved with the film was - while creating something a lot more bombastic and trippy than the series had yet seen - keeping very closely to the message of the original 1954 Godzilla in their own weird way.

One of the first things we see in the film is a kid playing with some Godzilla toys. We're at full commercialization at this point (not that we haven't always been - there was a lot more marketing done around the time of G '54 than a lot of people may think) and Godzilla is explicitly a hero, suitable for the fantasies of children. But rather than see this as a horrific aberration, as the character being mishandled and fundamentally altered from what it was originally intended to have been, I feel like there's also a way to see some bitterness and irony in this. The simplest way to put it is that in the face of a threat like Hedorah, Godzilla really doesn't look that bad. When one of the characters remarks on the awful state of the planet, how polluted and dirty it is, and says that "if Godzilla saw this, I bet he'd be mad" - I honestly thought "yeah, I bet he would". I think if Godzilla saw that humanity had continued to ruin the planet, not with nuclear power this time but with chemical smog, poisoned earth, and uninhabitable oceans, he probably would be pretty mad. 

I think this movie totally knows what it's doing. On the outside it looks like a stark departure from the roots of the Godzilla series, but I really think it's not. There's an obvious callback to the original movie in the fact that one of the main human characters (insofar as any of the human characters are "main", humans are remarkably useless here, even for this series) is a scientist who ends up spending much of the movie with bandages over his right eye. Even more to the point is that he keeps fish in his lab, like Dr. Serizawa also did. The movie really wants to show us that fish tank, and I have to admit that I can't figure out why the fish were made to feel so important - maybe there was an implication that even these perfect creatures, kept isolated from the toxic slime that was choking their non-captive-bred counterparts in the open ocean, would eventually fall victim to sludge like all the rest of the planet, given enough time. Nothing is safe.

This movie is scary. It deals with scary things. It may not seem like it, because it's so colorful and wild that you almost get distracted from the imagery of people dismembered and buried under stifling piles of sludge. But there is a solid philosophy here, under the fish masks and the dancing girls in bodysuits. The younger characters take the view that the good green Earth their parents grew up with is gone, so the only thing to do is sing and dance: the planet is dying, we are all dying, what else can we do? It's the same core concept of revulsion at what humanity is capable of that fueled a lot of the original Godzilla, but instead of getting all mopey, Banno decides to have his characters party about it.

I also think Hedorah rules. Kenpachiro Satsuma knocks it out of the park with this performance (and so does Nakajima in the Godzilla suit, as always). There's something that really clicked with me about Hedorah's overall vibe this time; I just love its silhouette, how lumpy and blobby it is, how its body plan is so totally opposite from Godzilla. It drives home the point that Hedorah is not a creature born from Earth, even though it may be breeding here. Hedorah looks and acts like an alien. I love its static facial expression in contrast to Godzilla, who had been becoming more and more human-like in his expressions since the 1960s.

Yeah, man, the movie's good. This had been one of my least-frequently-rewatched Godzilla movies because it does feel like such an outlier on the surface. But watching it last night made me realize how good it is and how well it fits with the rest of the series. Banno is often maligned for the choices he made in this film, but imagine a continuity where outside directors were invited into the Godzilla series more often. We could have had a few more super artsy, daring films like this at a time when the series was mostly sticking to an increasingly child-oriented vibe.

Attack of the Giant Teacher (2019)

directed by Yoshikazu Ishii

Japan

70 minutes

3 stars out of 5

____

Before I watched this, the impression I had of it was that it was basically a worse version of Big Man Japan (which I haven't seen, because it's two hours long and I'm tired), but now I see that, aside from the fact that they both feature a giant human man, the two films aren't alike at all. Attack of the Giant Teacher is a compact, earnest, charming little movie, and the film is carried more by the fun that everyone involved in making it seemed to have than by its simple plot.

Said plot is thus: Mr. Miyazawa is a teacher at a night school, leading a class of nontraditional students who we get to know to some extent over the course of the film. Miyazawa is a good teacher who cares about his students, but he learns at the beginning of the film that his school is to be shut down for poor performance. He and some of his students brainstorm the idea to put on a musical as the school's last hurrah for its open-house day that year - this isn't a "we have to put on a musical to save the school!" kind of plot; one of the more interesting things about it is how there's no sign that anything that happens during the film actually influences the fate of the school itself. It lends a bittersweet quality to the whole thing when you realize afterward that, even though Miyazawa not only saved his students but also his city, he will still be out of a job pretty soon. While all of this is happening, evil aliens are headed towards Earth to eat its people. Refugees whose planet was destroyed by these aliens are hiding among Miyazawa's students, and they give him special pills that will cause him to become gigantic enough to physically throw down with the alien mothership.

The only two students who get much in the way of backstory are the disguised alien couple, but all of them feel like real people. No one in the cast has much in the way of previous film credits, which adds to that vibe. (I would have sworn in a court of law that the actress who played Toko in Cell Phone Investigator 7 was in this, but apparently it was someone else.) There is a bit of a red herring in that there's one odd guy in the class who is absolutely convinced that the world is about to end, but it turns out that's just kind of how he is, he has no weird secret motive, he's just another one of the students. Similar to the sparse and inexperienced cast, the sets are pretty rudimentary, but this works in the film's favor considering that much of it is set in a small, underperforming night school. The green screen and miniatures are surprisingly good, perhaps owing to director Ishii's experience on mainstream toku.

I'm not saying that this is the best movie ever made, but I'm really surprised that all of the top reviews on Letterboxd are either very negative or dismiss the film outright as a joke. Like I said, this movie feels like something that everybody involved in it really wanted to make. It doesn't try overly hard to be funny, even though its premise may come off as inherently comedic to anybody who isn't expecting it. It kind of feels like The 12 Day Tale of the Kaiju that Died in 8, although I think that film did not do as good of a job selling the viewer on what it was saying. I'd really love to see another movie like this from Ishii: the tokusatsu is fun, the obvious visual reference to one of my favorite Ultraseven aliens delighted me, the cast is charming and carries the film well, and it's aesthetically pleasing in a bare-bones, honest sort of way.

Godzilla vs. Megalon (1973)

directed by Jun Fukuda

Japan

81 minutes

4 stars out of 5

----

This is probably the Godzilla movie that most fans would agree is the most notorious for being "bad", aside from, perhaps, All Monsters Attack. Maybe if its international distribution had gone differently, this wouldn't be the case. If someone hadn't mistakenly thought the film was in the public domain and began releasing a slurry of low-quality, badly-dubbed VHS tapes and TV broadcasts, allowing much of the Anglosphere's impression of the Godzilla series to be this low-budget entry that showcases the series at its goofiest, maybe this movie would have a better reputation. It certainly deserves it.

Godzilla vs. Megalon begins with a nuclear test. It's never specified who sets it off, but the reverberations are felt immediately: first on Monster Island, and then on a lake somewhere in Japan where people are just trying to have a nice afternoon outing. The weight of this opening nuclear test really hit me during that scene where Goro, Jinko (a nickname, his full name is Jinkawa... not beating the allegations with that one) and Roku are driving home. The Godzilla series has done a lot more looking at the large-scale, long-term effects of nuclear energy - Godzilla himself is a "large-scale, long-term effect of nuclear energy" - than it has bringing it down to a personal level, so in a way, seeing our trio have to cancel their fun trip early feels almost more affecting than a scene of city-level devastation. We've seen destruction and misery inflicted upon the masses, but I don't think the series has ever made it more personal than making us watch this gay couple and their kid have to abandon their afternoon plans and go home because of earthquakes caused by some distant nuclear test, conducted by people we never even see.

I don't want to make it seem like I think this movie should be taken deadly serious, because it's very obviously not intended to be. This was meant to be an entertaining movie that kids would like. It's actually because of that that including a part where the main characters are personally affected by nuclear testing feels like such a smart choice.

The characters in Godzilla vs. Megalon live in a cool house covered with colorful artwork and seem to spend their free time messing around with robots. I love how vibrant this movie is, like almost all of Jun Fukuda's work that is in color. One thing that stands out to me is how the Seatopian agents are dressed: both of them, especially Kotaro Tomita's character, look like something out of Yellow Submarine. The movie plays it fast and loose with the idea of science and invention, and that can come off a little silly (Jet Jaguar developing a personality and deciding to save the day through sheer force of will, Goro Ibuki and boyfriend having the technology to casually deduce trace evidence left behind after the Seatopians break in, even just random side details like the Baby-Rider), but I just love the world this takes place in. I love the contrast between the nuclear test at the start of the film and the understated optimism of Goro Ibuki's work as an inventor.

The thing this movie gets absolutely pitch-perfect is kaiju fights. Am I brave enough to say that this has some of the best fights in the series? No, I'd get pilloried in the streets. But I do kind of think it does. The way you can almost imagine dialogue being exchanged between the monsters: Megalon and Gigan trading "why I oughta" gestures when they first meet, then teaming up and taking great delight in torturing Jet Jaguar and Godzilla as a gruesome twosome. Megalon, Gigan, Jet Jaguar and Godzilla all feel like such distinct personalities, it's hard not to cheer for them even as an adult. (And I wouldn't fault anybody for cheering for the bad guys: they're just so diabolical and gleeful about it that you almost want to see them beat on Godzilla and Jet Jaguar.)

Fukuda himself may have hated his Godzilla movies, but he had the touch that was necessary to bring this kind of super-modern, energetic, lovable Godzilla to life. Is it the Godzilla that Honda envisioned? Certainly not, but I personally have gotten over my hangups about the idea of Godzilla having to be only one thing. We all understand where Godzilla comes from, and the best Godzilla movies are the ones that return to that origin, but there's room to mess around a little in the margins.

Terror of Mechagodzilla (1975)

directed by Ishirō Honda

Japan

84 minutes

5 stars out of 5

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I'm a few days late, but happy birthday to possibly my favorite Godzilla movie aside from the original. This is one of several Godzilla movies (including the original) that I don't rewatch that often because it puts me in a bad mood every time I do. Rewatching it last night, though, I didn't have time to be put in a bad mood, because I was too busy thinking "Ah, this is the best movie ever made".

(Please read this review which sums up the movie in one paragraph better than I could if I wrote an entire book.)

While I think it's a masterpiece, Terror of Mechagodzilla had the lowest box office attendance of the Showa-era films. I tend to wonder whether the dour tone of the film had something to do with that. The previous year's Godzilla film, Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla, was one of the most bombastic, colorful, high-energy entries in the franchise, so to follow it up with a deadly serious, character-driven story where the monsters don't have any big funny moments - directed by master of melancholy films Ishirō Honda, no less - is a bit of an abrupt change of pace.

The film carries over a lot of plot elements from the previous film, the most central of which is an in-progress invasion by the Black Hole Planet 3 aliens and their most formidable weapon, Mechagodzilla, which they develop by abducting/coercing humans into working for them. The timeline of vs. Mechagodzilla is much more brief, however, and more traditional to the way these films are usually laid out, with the bulk of the story occurring in a linear fashion, and events unfolding as we watch the characters experience them. One of the intriguing things about Terror of Mechagodzilla, by contrast, is that the invasion had been going on in the background for a very long time: at least 20 years, as implied by the flashback of Katsura Mafune's accidental death and immediate revival by the aliens.

The thought I kept having while watching this film was that, on a surface level, a lot of what happens can be blamed on Dr. Mafune for being too stubborn to let go of an old grudge after being slighted by the scientific community. But despite this, despite him being written as a bitter old man who turns traitor to humanity as a whole, I can't do anything but feel bad for him. Both he and his daughter are manipulated at every turn by the Black Hole Planet 3 Aliens. He and Katsura are both victims. Watching this movie again I was struck by how abrupt the scene where Katsura dies for the first time is: the aliens don't give Dr. Mafune any time whatsoever to process it or even to find out who they are or what they want, they just immediately ingratiate themselves to his entire life in such a way that he's dependent on them for the continued preservation of the only thing really keeping him going - his daughter. To me - and this is a point I've never seen brought up before, so I'm probably wrong - it feels like Katsura's death had to have been pre-planned. For the aliens to be able to know the exact time that she would be electrocuted and be able to enter the scene right away as soon as she had died, they would have to have been watching. Using Katsura to manipulate her father was the plan right from the start.

The dub will let you forget this, and becoming jaded to kaiju movies in general will let you forget this, but the Black Hole Planet 3 aliens are incredibly brutal. There's kind of a cult indoctrination thing going on here. They insert themselves into Dr. Mafune's life and give him everything that he ever wanted: his daughter's life, the opportunity to prove himself right to his detractors, and access to what he wanted to research all along (Titanosaurus). Meanwhile they see him as so disposable that one of them uses him as a human shield without a second thought. (I remain salty that the English dub cuts out the part where he gets shot.) We also see that they abduct other humans for slave labor and cut their vocal cords. These may be, in name, the same aliens as the previous film, but the air of sinister coolness that Kuronuma had is replaced here by pure evil.

I'm still going. This is my review, I can make it as long as I want.

I would be remiss not to talk about Tomoko Ai's performance as Katsura, because she really is what holds the movie together; she's the most sympathetic character and the one who we're rooting for the whole time. She was at this point a very young actress with not a lot of experience, she had been playing a semi-regular role on Ultraman Leo prior to this and as the story goes she ran over while still in her uniform from that show to try out for the part of Katsura. She's really good at conveying that Katsura still has human emotions despite being a cyborg, but that those emotions are deeply buried. I love one specific moment after Katsura is resurrected for the second time, where Ichinose is tied up in the control room and Katsura gets up to adjust something on a panel in front of him; when he begs her to see reason, she says "Be silent", but why did she get up in the first place? Did that one knob really need to be fiddled with in that exact spot that would put her right in front of him?

I also want to talk about Akihiko Hirata's performance in this because I think he knocks it out of the park. I continue to maintain that he wasn't given enough roles where he got to actually act. (You all should watch Saga of the Vagabonds or Farewell Rabaul or something.) He adopts a specific set of mannerisms for this role that make the fake glasses and mediocre old age makeup they put him in forgettable. It's hard not to compare Mafune to Dr. Serizawa, since they were both played by Hirata - bookending his appearances in the Godzilla series - and in a lot of ways I feel like the stuff Mafune gets up to is exactly the kind of thing Serizawa would have been afraid would happen to him: Mafune's weakness is exploited by an interloper who seeks to use research of his for destructive purposes. I can see a reading of Mafune as an older version of Serizawa whose staunch refusal to let his invention fall into the wrong hands wavered after life treated him poorly.

So, yeah, this is a contender for my second-favorite Godzilla movie. Above all, the way I feel about this movie is that it is just phenomenally well-made, easily on par with anything and everything that came after it. Tonally, it's more akin to one of the Heisei films, like vs. Biollante or vs. Destoroyah. Every inch of this movie looks incredibly good. That first shot of Titanosaurus from below, set against the backdrop of a bright and sunny sky, is an all-timer. There's something sad about the way the film ends on a shot of Godzilla wading off into the sea when you consider that this was really the end of "old Godzilla": the series would return from its hiatus, and is still going strong even now, but everything would be different. This movie just means so much as an achievement in the series' history that I cannot understand why anybody wouldn't consider it one of the best.

Ultraman Arc the Movie: The Clash of Light and Evil (2025)

directed by Takanori Tsujimoto

Japan

75 minutes

4 stars out of 5

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So I finally got around to checking out the Arc movie. I say "finally", but it's only been a week or two since it got fansubbed, thanks to a team of people from r/ultraman helping with timing and whatnot. It certainly beats waiting donkey's years for the Blazar movie because Tsupro dragged their feet so hard on releasing it internationally! Ahem, anyway. I will talk spoilers in this review.

The Clash of Light and Evil is set between episodes 21 and 22, during some downtime for the Hoshimoto City branch of SKiP. It should be a fun, relaxing hot pot night, but a mystery man (who I am certain would have been played by Shōhei Akaboshi had this movie been made in the mid-'90s) turns up and insinuates himself onto Yuma, leading him through a rapid-fire series of tests intended to impress important lessons on him. We get a volley of new kaiju in this film, following the wonderful trend of Ultra series giving us original kaiju again: Mugon, a giant doglike creature; Gartura, an infectious alien plant; Repodias, the final form of an evil alien; as well as the debut of a dark-side Arc called Guil Arc and a couple of other aliens.

I have to say that this is one of the best Ultraman post-series movies I've seen. It's not that it's my favorite, per se - although it is very much up there, top five for sure - but I feel like this is the direction that a post-series movie should take: almost a fourth-wall break; you've seen the series, we know you've seen the series, we know you know these characters and what happens to them so let's dispense with trying to insert this movie in the middle of the timeline like nothing that came after it has happened yet. The way the film introduces itself, with voiceover narration from Yuma, is so clever that it immediately endeared me to it. The narration - and the broad sweep of the plot itself - situates the film in the middle of the series while acknowledging that it is doing so. It even feels like it's making fun of itself at times: the idea of Yuma basically having to speedrun the morality lesson that so often comes with an episode or story arc of an Ultra series is really funny.

Somebody (battleupsaber on twitter) pointed out that it's interesting how Yuma is reticent about the idea of humans and kaiju being able to coexist. This makes sense in-universe given that his parents were killed in front of him during a kaiju attack, but it is still a very interesting perspective for an Ultra protagonist to take, given that the tack taken by Ultra series basically since the beginning is that sometimes there can be kaiju who are not evil and don't need to be dealt with violently. The series has reckoned with this in various ways; early on, destroying monsters was something of a duty for Ultraman, even when he was uncomfortable with it - take Jamila for example - but that wasn't always the case, as the writers found ways to have Ultraman deal with kaiju in non-destructive ways, like shoving them into the Monster Graveyard where they'd be out of anyone's way (mostly). Yuma sees the consequences of the obligation he felt he had to report Mugon to the GDF. I think it's an interesting step for the series to take to show a protagonist who doesn't have an infallible sense of kaiju morality from the jump, and has feelings that are influenced by past trauma that he has to learn to deal with as he continues to hold the responsibility of being bonded with an Ultra.

I think Ultraman is going in a really promising direction. Blazar and Arc have genuinely felt like some of the most original shows from the New Gen era. It is pretty clear that the less toyetic elements are forced into the show, the better it is. I loved the armor equips in The Clash of Light and Evil, how Arc just manifests his armor when he needs it without cutting to the whole henshin sequence as happens in the series. I would really enjoy seeing it done that way in a mainline series, but unfortunately I don't think that will ever happen. Regardless, it is entirely possible to blend sponsor obligations with the series in a way that isn't distracting - which Arc mostly managed to do.

I feel good about this one. This movie was a really good cap to a really good series. I won't say "Ultraman is good again" because Ultraman has always been good. But I will say Ultraman continues to be good.

Legend of Dinosaurs and Monster Birds (1977)

directed by Junji Kurata

Japan

92 minutes

2 stars out of 5

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I'm rating this 2 stars with a caveat: last week I rewatched this at Flicker Theatre as the English-dubbed version, and although the original movie is still a pretty decent 2 stars, the dub took it up to a solid 4. It's not the worst dub I've ever seen, but something about its inherent goofiness combined with how absolutely dead serious the movie takes itself made for an extremely fun viewing experience, especially in a room full of maybe slightly drunk folks.

Although Toei is certainly no stranger to tokusatsu, Legend of Dinosaurs and Monster Birds came late in the 1970s, when the kaiju and hero boom had given way to something new: the disaster movie boom. Our wonderful host at Flicker mentioned in his intro that this movie should be thought of more in the framework of things like Jaws and Orca and other nature- and animal-sploitation films than as a kaiju movie. Viewing it that way (along with, as I said, the goofy dub) helped me to be a lot more lenient this time, because I came to it with the understanding that it wasn't trying to be a kaiju movie and failing, it was trying to be a disaster movie and showing us some cool dinosaurs as a bonus, so shouldn't we all be grateful? Well, your mileage may vary on that last point.

The plot: Tsunehiko Watase plays Se-[coughs]Ashizawa, a geologist who gets wind of mysterious deaths and earthquakes in the area around Mt. Fuji that are rumored to be related to the dragon that, according to legend, lives in Lake Sai. Ashizawa comes to the village around Lake Sai to investigate and happens upon large tracks that look like they could belong to a dinosaur - just what his father studied, and no one believed him. Sightings of strange creatures mount and tension ramps up as more and more people and animals turn up dead, but the characters remain unaware of the plesiosaur for a relatively long time even as us viewers are treated to some weirdly sensual scenes of it killing various women who try to enter the lake.

The characters are fine. The first time I watched this I made a note that I really disliked Ashizawa, but this time, I can't say that I cared about him enough to have an opinion. Watase plays him with a kind of slick, slightly bastardy '70s dudeman vibe, which fits with the overall tone of the movie. I hope it doesn't say too much about me as a viewer that the part where he slaps his girlfriend didn't phase me because I've come to expect that kind of thing out of '70s movies. His girlfriend Akiko is played by yakuza movie actress Yōko Koizumi, and unfortunately aside from at the climax of the film (which looked like it was absolutely brutal to film) she doesn't get to do much acting, since there's a man present to shove her out of the way and get stuff done himself.

Throughout the whole movie I kept thinking how weird it was to watch a kaiju movie (okay, a "kaiju" movie) that was shot like a yakuza movie. All of the actors (note also Hiroshi Nawa, another Toei regular) are familiar from yakuza stuff. The insanely funky soundtrack could easily have been transplanted into any other gritty '70s crime flick. The director apparently worked exclusively in jidaigeki - especially films about ninjas - save for this film, which gives me the feeling that Toei just needed a guy and Kurata was the most convenient option. It's a weird thing, this movie, and it's kind of great.

Arguably, the film should be called Legend of Dinosaur and Monster Bird, singular. (And, I mean, in Japanese, it kind of is.) The film's two creatures are a plesiosaur and a rhamphorhyncus, portrayed (I think) with puppets rather than suitmation. Maybe it's just me, but I had no problems with the quality of the effects when it came to the dinosaurs; it they had been the most startlingly realistic dinosaurs ever put to film, it wouldn't fit with the movie's overall vibe. I really enjoy long-necked dinosaur-like creatures in tokusatsu, so I was rooting for the plesiosaur, but the smaller, more agile rhamphorhyncus won the day. In the end, though, it doesn't matter, because Mt. Fuji begins erupting and all is forgotten.

I'll end this review by talking about the thing I really, genuinely like about this movie: its sense of a global catastrophe starting to churn up, a paradigm shifting gradually as humans go about their business, singing honky-tonk cowboy songs and doing silly little science things, none of which amount to anything in the face of the awe-inspiring power of Mother Earth. If you really tune in to what the movie is saying and ignore the funk music and annoying protagonist, it's a solid disaster movie. It's one of those things where the portents of doom - Mt. Fuji blowing steam, ground subsidence, legendary monsters appearing - feel like they exist entirely separate from the human story at first, and when the human characters finally do become drawn irreversibly into their proper place in the natural order of things, all civilization falls by the wayside.

Lost World of Sinbad (1963)

directed by Senkichi Taniguchi

Japan

96 minutes

4 stars out of 5

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Every time I rewatch this, I'm surprised by how much I like it. I had a generally poor opinion of it the first go-around, possibly because I watched it in a stretched-out aspect ratio and terrible image quality and I had read a lot of many negative reviews. But now I genuinely love this movie. It's a blast. I don't understand why there seems to be a consensus of mediocrity among reviewers.

Toshirō Mifune plays Sukezaemon (or Sukeza) Luzon, a random guy who escapes being burnt at the stake for piracy and decides to become a pirate for real to spite his accusers. Our introduction to Mifune's character and the sequence that sets him on the path he'll follow for the rest of the film is very brief, almost comedically so; within the span of maybe ten minutes Luzon has gotten himself a big cartoony treasure chest full of jewels, engaged in naval warfare against a rival pirate (Makoto Satō, delivering the evilest evil cackles of his career), seemingly been punished by the gods for his hubris with a terrible storm, and washed up in a random unspecified country where everybody is surprised that he is Japanese but also, at the same time, all speak Japanese themselves. Mifune is of course eminently watchable and I'm tempted to say that he carries the whole film, but this works so well as an ensemble piece that that wouldn't really be fair to everybody else in it.

Luzon quickly finds that all is not well in the kingdom. The king is slowly being poisoned while a shifty chancellor attempts to seize power for himself and marry the princess. The chancellor's interim government demands tribute in the form of local young women who are taken to the castle and forced into slavery, and there are other generally oppressive measures leading the people in the kingdom towards mounting a revolt. But it'll take more than just a peasant uprising - it'll take some dude who isn't from around here and almost drowned a couple of days ago to gather enough strength to storm the castle and fight the Black Pirate and the chancellor's supporters.

The really fun thing about this movie is how many distinct characters make up the cast, and how every single one of them brings something new to the plot. It is a story about justice vs. injustice when you get right down to it, but there's such a broad range of actors involved in how the story unfolds. Some of them are somewhat opportunistic and switch sides according to their own whims (Jun Tazaki, for example, who looks absolutely lethal dual-wielding sai). Some are not very bright but side with Luzon for the craic. Two of my favorite characters really have no investment in the faction-vs-faction fight at all and have their own rivalry going on in the background, secondary to what Luzon is doing; these are Granny the witch (played by Hideyo Amamoto technically in drag but not really committed to it) and the hermit who got kicked out of heaven for being too horny (Ichirō Arashima). The panoply of personalities all contribute to why this movie moves at such a fast clip and avoids ever slipping into a lull at any point.

Whenever I try to think of which movie I'd recommend first between Sinbad and its "sister film" Adventure in Kigan Castle, I always have a hard time. Kigan Castle is objectively the better film, its production is far more elaborate and it has better pacing, but Sinbad is, in my opinion, way more fun. Although the scope is not as grand as Kigan Castle, which was shot partially on location in Iran, Sinbad still has some remarkable practical effects and the same feeling of "doesn't matter if the technology isn't there yet, we're gonna do it anyway" that all Showa tokusatsu is imbued with. I could probably rewatch this a bunch more times without getting tired of it, and if my tokusatsu film screening series doesn't crash and burn this year, it might make it into the roster at some point.

Let's Go See A Movie

I originally wrote this post to celebrate having had my other blog for a year. I worked really hard on it, but then I decided it was extremely silly and not a good fit for that blog. So I'm shunting it over here instead.

_________

I've been running this blog for a year now. I must admit I've poured a considerable amount of money and an even more considerable amount of time into it. So it's only appropriate that for my one-year anniversary post, I've done something that involves both money and time: I've bought us a time machine!

"Where'd you get it?" What do you mean, where'd I get it? Yahoo! Auctions, of course, that's where I get everything.

Anyway, you and me are going to go back to 1959 and catch a showing of The Mysterians stateside. Yes, the dub is bad, but we're witnessing history here. We're going to San Francisco's Metro Theatre, because I like San Francisco. It's way too expensive these days, but in 1959 we'll be paying about a dollar for our tickets. We can sneak out before the movie they're double-billing it with comes on.

Here we are, and there's a line out the door! Everybody's scrambling to see The Mysterians and American movie critics in the '50s have a ton of respect for Japanese films and don't think they're a joke in the slightest.^{[citation needed]}

The lobby is nice and air-conditioned, but San Francisco in late spring isn't too hot in the first place. We're here in the last week or two of May, just after the film opened on the 15th. If you look closely, you can see a poster in the back advertising another upcoming imported feature - it's The H-Man, set to release on the 28th! Don't worry, there's enough juice in the time machine for a second trip.

Because I have a guy on the inside, we've got an original pressbook to look through while we're waiting in line. (We may be a bit early; time machine calibration is not an exact science.)

Let's see how they're trying to sell this one to theater owners across the nation:

• "Invaders from space coming to steal our women" is probably the #1 selling point across all the U.S. advertising materials.
• The color and scope are also highly emphasized, but this gets my goat a little, because it's shilled all over as a CinemaScope picture that utilizes Eastmancolor - it's not, it's TohoScope, but we wouldn't know that since the American cut removes the TohoScope logo. The technical specifications of TohoScope are almost identical to CinemaScope, I admit, but... it's just not, okay? 
• Space is cool! Everyone loves space! The Mysterians fit in quite well with the mania for atomic/science/space-themed sci-fi films in the 1950s.
• You can order 4,000 "heralds" (small two-page folded pamphlets) for $28.75 - that's about $313 in today's money. (I have of course ordered these to be sent to your house when you get back from our trip.)
• Moguera is hyped up in promotional materials but seen as a bit of a joke by critics, as we'll see shortly.

If we turned on the radio - we do have a radio inside the time machine - we might be able to catch an announcement advertising the film. There were eight different varieties of these for broadcasters to choose from. In the interest of space I won't duplicate every single one here, just the longest (which I've had to reconstruct a bit since the pamphlet I'm looking at is cut off on one side):

"From behind the moon they come - to invade the Earth - to abduct our women and [level] our cities!! They are THE MYSTERIANS... demons from behind the moon, who top our every top secret! MGM now [presents] an enthralling motion picture about a master race that smashed the atom before we even saw the light of day - THE MYSTERIANS! [Aliens] who abduct Earth's women so that they themselves [can breed]... super-sonic war erupts from out of space before your very eyes! [A giant robot]... sheathed in heavy metal... fifty times the size [of a man]! [Crushing every] human being in its path with the dreadful searing rays [from its eyes] - see it all in THE MYSTERIANS! A terrifying, fantastic [feature presented in] giant CinemaScope and Color! THE MYSTERIANS!"

And the shortest:

"MGM presents a first in terror - THE MYSTERIANS - a master race that smashed the atom before we were born! See electronic war erupt from outer space! See THE MYSTERIANS - in Giant Cinemascope and Color!"

Our theater has chosen to spring for all possible advertisement. We're beset by many different sizes of lobby cards, most of which feature lovely (although maybe not quite screen-accurate) original illustrations by Lt. Colonel Robert B. Rigg. 

I ask the guy behind the counter selling tickets so nicely if I can buy this one off him but he won't let me:

This is actually meant for advertising in newspapers and so probably wouldn't be on display in a theater. Also god damn

We might even see some kids playing around with a Mysterian trading card from Nu-Card, featuring a tremendously bad pun.

Speaking of kids, we also have evidence that the movie was marketed deliberately to children; see this newspaper clipping featuring some of the advertising we just looked at above.

How did all this advertising pay off? Pretty well - the film grossed $975,000 in the American box office. Adjusted for inflation that is $10,607,092. Unfortunately 1959 is also the year that Ben-Hur came out, grossing $74,432,704 in the North American (U.S. and Canada) box office, which, adjusted for inflation, is $809,758,520. That's insane money. I could buy at least two DVDs off YesAsia with that. Still! Almost a million dollars for an imported Japanese feature means the people do like The Mysterians.

And enough about us, who already know and love this movie. What do the critics say? Before I picked you up in this time machine I went to a couple newsstands and grabbed some old papers and periodicals. Here's the May 23 issue of Harrison's Reports:

"From the production point of view, this Japanese-made science-fiction thriller, which is enhanced by CinemaScope and Eastmancolor, is far better than most America-made pictures of its type." Wow! That's much nicer than what most American critics of Japanese films had to say. 

Now let's look at Boxoffice. Dear reader - I mean, time machine companion - I hate this one.

Americans in the 1950s would go see a Japanese movie and be like "aw man there's Japanese people in this"

Emphasizing that "the cast means nothing" not once but twice within a one-paragraph review, describing Kenji Sahara and Yumi Shirakawa as having "only a slightly Oriental cast of features and [almost resembling] American teenagers"... oh boy. I forgot we were still in the 1950s for a moment.

Let's move on to Variety. Oh, it doesn't look good already. "As corny as it is furious, The Mysterians is red-blooded phantasmagoria - made in Japan and dedicated to those undiscerning enough to be taken in by its hokum."

"The cast - from Kenji Sahara to Minosuke Yamada - isn't intended to sell many Yankee tickets." Okay?

I've got a review from the New York Times as well, but I won't repeat it here since it's much of the same wisecracking and actually goes so far as to refer to it as a "mess". I do appreciate this quote, however: "It has to do with a huge, globular fortress that plops to earth 'from the fifth planet' (wherever that is), envelops a group of glamour girls and is finally destroyed by a brave young Galahad."

Hmm. Well, while the critics seem intent on dismissing the Japanese cast altogether, the people in the Metro with us today who have more "highbrow" tastes will definitely recognize Takashi Shimura from the Kurosawa films that have been playing stateside since Rashomon in the early '50s. People have also seen Yoshio Tsuchiya if they've seen Seven Samurai, but they probably wouldn't recognize him here, as his face is covered in The Mysterians and he is dubbed over. Anybody who's seen Godzilla, King of the Monsters! will (theoretically) recognize both Momoko Kōchi and Akihiko Hirata, and a very select few might have seen Hirata in other things - possibly one of Inagaki's Samurai films, or even Itsuko and Her Mother, although the chances of that being the thing they know him from are vanishingly slim since, as far as I know, that film only screened in Hawaii. And, of course, anybody here who's seen Rodan could recognize him, Kenji Sahara, and Yumi Shirakawa. We'll be seeing them all again quite soon in The H-Man as well.

So the cast means nothing to Americans, huh? It's debatable how much anybody actually cared, but to say that none of the cast of The Mysterians would have been familiar to American audiences is just not true.

I'll leave this alone in a minute, I promise, but stick with me a little longer here. I've always been curious about how much American audiences were actually paying attention to the cast of the imported Japanese films they were watching. I looked up Variety's review of The H-Man, which is credited to the same person who reviewed The Mysterians, and...

...this critic appears to have mixed up Kenji Sahara and Akihiko Hirata's roles in the film, which means he presumably was not recognizing people who were in the same movie he'd just watched a week or two prior (or at least not bothering to put names to faces). So the answer to "how much did Americans care?" is probably not very much.

Alright, the movie's about to start. We're in our seats, and you've endured me lecturing you for this long, time to get down to business. For a more extensive overview of how the American cut differs from the Japanese original, I'll turn it over to our friend Brian Culver at The History Vortex. One of the more notable losses in the American cut - which is fairly good as far as these things go - is Ifukube's formidable score, which appears to have been distorted into something more like the eerie, theremin-soaked sci-fi soundtracks Americans were used to. The second Moguera is also cut out entirely, which is a shame, because I screened The Mysterians to a small audience myself back in the present day and that moment got some big laughs.

The Metro is a stadium-style theater that has only one single screen but a massive seating capacity - 856 seats by the time of its closure, but probably a bit less when we're here. We're sitting in the front row, naturally. Can you see us? We're right down there.

85 minutes later (the U.S. cut shaves down some special effects scenes, removing three minutes of runtime), we're ready to get out of here before Watusi starts and go back home.

Thank you for accompanying me on this journey. I'm not talking about the time machine anymore, I'm talking about this blog. It's a lonely business running a fansite for an actor who most people in the English-speaking world only know for one role, but I genuinely enjoy writing these posts very much. I think it is worth doing and I hope you think it is worth reading.

Even if you don't, there will still be more posts.

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Note:

In this post I've embellished a few details to give a fictionalized idea of what it would be like to sit down and see The Mysterians in a U.S. theater during its initial run. While I have no proof that The Mysterians ever played at the Metro Theater specifically, it very well could have. However, everything else is factual and is taken from reliable primary sources. The photo of the theater interior I've used is not the Metro Theater but the Bagdad Theater in Portland, Oregon; I've chosen it for its ambiance and the size of its screen. You can find more information about the Metro Theater here.

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Image credits:

Metro Theater exterior: from Jack Tillmany collection

Metro Theater lobby: photo by Ted Newman, from Jack Tillmany collection

Bagdad Theater interior: photo by Kathleen Nyman