Imagine Monsters: All Monsters Attack

The irony of 1969's All Monsters Attack, renamed in the States as Godzilla's Revenge is that it's considered by many to be the worst Godzilla film made, yet it was directed by the revered Ishiro Honda. Immediately notable is the really annoying acid-rock style intro song. If nothing else indicates that recreational amphetamines had finally reached Japan, this song is it. Akira Ifukube did not contribute to this film, and his presence is sorely missed.

David Kalat is kinder to this film than I have been in previous viewings. He raises the excellent point that this is a kids' film which addresses, however inept this might appear to me in America nearly fifty years later, the plight of the latchkey kid, something that was a serious social concern in Japan when this film was made. Our child protagonist, Ichiro, wears the same shorts as do most kid protagonists of the era. The main difference is that Ichiro's parents aren't around because they work, which is made explicit with an early film encounter between Ichiro and his father, who tells his son that he has to work late, and that Ichiro should take care of the house until his mother comes home.

Ichiro is at odds with children his own age, they bully him, and he seems to have no resource to adults to protect him. The inventor who lives in Ichiro's building is more his speed. As an artist/scientist, Shinpei can relate to the imaginative Ichiro in a way that kids his age cannot. And Ichiro is polite to him. When his parents both cannot come home, Shinpei feeds Ichiro. But Ichiro won't touch the beef until he is assured his host can afford it. That's pretty polite.



The film establishes itself in a busy, industrial landscape of rusting metal, brown smoke, rushing cars, and clouded, polluted skies. Honda's bleak urban landscape has a depressing start to a kids' film, but it emphasizes the richness of Ichiro's imaginative escape to the lush Monster Island.



It's worth pointing out that the film's monster sequences are in Ichiro's imagination. He has a monster toy in his closet, and his initial flight to Monster Island is made with the assistance of a 'computer' with crayon-drawn dials. Once he is on the flgiht to Monster Island, he imagines the rest of the passengers away. This could also explain the repetition of monster fights from the previous films, Ichiro is replaying them in his mind. He begins to repeating the sequences he has seen, and then moves on to creating his own, with Godzilla taking on Gabara, the kaiju incarnation of Ichiro's bully, at the end of the film.





Gabara is sort of a standard monster. He's got some red hair, bumpy skin, no tail, and a mocking cry that sounds like nasty laughter. He's perfect for what he is--a monster invented to personify bullies. He has no berath or distance weapon. He can send what are apparently surges of electricity through his hands, giving him a killer grip. This is true to his metaphor--you run from a bully.



Godzilla, as father-figure to Minilla, forces him to fight Gabara, despite the bully-kaiju being twice his mass. Seeing that Minilla is overmatched, Godzilla steps in, and finally, Gabra gets the thrashing that we have all been waiting for. And while this is what we as the audience want, Godzilla in a fight we haven't seen yet, it undermines the film's message (which comes home when Ichiro tricks some bank robbers) of self-reliance.



This was a film aimed at children, and as I have said before, Godzilla films that aim at children as the audience tend to fail. All Monsters Attack was the first Godzilla film to sell less than two million tickets. While this was not intended to compete with the extraviganza that was Destroy All Monsters, the drop off is notable. The next film in the series, Godzilla vs Hedorah, controversial and strange as it is, sold a quarter of a million more tickets.



Having learned from his imaginary monster friends, Ichiro turns the end of the film into Home Alone, defeating the thieves we have heard about. He then spends some time with his mother, who swears she will never spend a late night at her job again. Ichiro stands up to his bully, then goes on an explosive tear, dong what the bully's gang dared him to do earlier. Is this the freedom of someone who has been oppressed getting a little clean fun in, or the start of a psychotic little crime spree as the oppressed turns into the oppressor? Has Ichiro joined the bully's gang? Taken it over? The film is silent, ending before telling us the answer.



The final shot is the kids, all together, still in the polluted industrial landscape. The smaller problem has been solved, but the society and conditions that created the problem still exist.



All Monsters Attack is unsatisfactory for most Godzilla fans for two reasons. One, Godzilla isn't the focus of the story. It's really a story about Ichiro and how his imaginary friends, who could have been anyone, help him with his bully problem. And that probably would have been forgivable if the new Godzilla sequences had been longer, or more compelling. But the low budget is once again in evidence, and the fight is less than satisfying. I'm more forgiving of the film because I think I can see what the film was trying to say, but it's not a film I'm going to pull out for sheer enjoyment value.

Next week, Giant Turtle vs Knifehead.

Godzilla and the Giant Lobster: Ebirah, Horror of the Deep

Ebirah, Horror of the Deep, made in 1966, starts off borrowing a note from the original Godzilla, with the disappearance of a fishing boat. The laid-back attitude here is in stark contrast to the original, with people trying to push through to get news of their lost loved ones. Here, is serves as the impetus to try a crazy scheme to join a dance marathon to win a sailboat. This is typical of Godzilla's new direction, and certainly of his new director Jun Fukuda. Fukuda, who had been Honda's assistant director on Rodan, would direct some of the franchise's worst films, Godzilla vs Megalon and Godzilla vs Gigan. He would also write and direct the film that began Godzilla's recovery, Godzilla vs Mechagodzilla.



Remember when I talked about the dances in Frankenstein vs Baragon? Early in the film, we have a character who is in a dance marathon, looking to win a sail boat. The script disposes with the usual scientists and reporters as main characters, replacing them with a failed dance marathoner of no determines occupation, a thief, and an Infant Islander.



The Red Bamboo, our antagonists, are an unlikely organization. They've got their own uniforms, a shitload of guys to throw around, jet planes, a nuclear reactor, and this isn't even their main base. The fat guy who sits on the not-throne comments about getting orders from headquarters. These guys have to be as wealthy as Bond's SPECTRE. And they're dumb. Kidnapping the people of Infant Island which is known to have a vengeful giant monster god? Incredibly dumb. Building a base on the island where Godzilla is sleeping? Colossally dumb.



This touches on Ebirah, Horror of the Deep's theme of monster control. Ebirah is kept away from the Red Bamboo ships by use of a yellow chemical, derived from bananas, called X-13. All boats that do not pump the X-13 overboard are attacked by the world's largest lobster. This is a contrast to Mothra, who voluntarily guards the inhabitants of Infant Island. Since Red Bamboo are entirely human, and have no mystical connection to Ebirah, they don't have the technology to fully control it. Which leads to their downfall.



The Peanuts do not return as the Shobijin this time around. The are replaced by "Pair Bambi" another set of musical Japanese twins. It seems that Mothra is asleep, and won't be wakened by the prayers of her subjects at the beginning of the film. Or perhaps she is no longer amused by the old man in the astonishing feather hat, who is absent from this film.



Masaru Soto replaces Akira Ifukube as the composer, and I find his musical invention jarring. There's a jaunty, modern aspect to every piece, whether it's attempting to be stealthy tension, or waiting for lightning to strike Godzilla. I find it undermines the feel of the film, even though Fukuda's direction trends towards a lighter, action-adventure film. The combat music often sounds like 50's beach music. Modern, I suppose, but it dates itself rather quickly, unlike the classical work of Ifukube.

Godzilla is at his most human and emotive, and it doesn't serve him well here. It comes across as goofy. And damn if he doesn't look like Cookie Monster from the side.



The Giant Condor that shows up is very strange, and about as well put together as the Giant Claw. It flies in to disturb Godzilla's nap for no apparent reason other than to give Godzilla something to fight. It could be an homage to King Kong, similar to the pterodactyl that tries to snatch Fay Wray. But it's not done nearly as well. It's two saving graces are that the sequence is short, and that it never shows up again.



The first encounter between Godzilla and Ebirah features some more of that rock throwing. This time, the rock is volleyed back and forth between the two giant monsters through the use of some creative animation. David Kalat sees this as an indicator of the original intent to use King Kong in the Godzilla part. I have to disagree. Rock kicking and throwing has been with the franchise since King Kong vs Godzilla, and showed up in Ghidorah the Three-Headed Monster.





Kalat sees the lightning strike as stengthening Godzilla, as it did with Kong in King Kong vs Godzilla, but I can't say I see evidence of that. The lightning strikes waken the sleeping Godzilla, but I don't see anything, even in dialog, to indicate that it makes him stronger. In fact, when he encounters the hundred thousand volt electrical wires that surround the Red Bamboo base, he staggers back for a moment. He finds a rock to destroy the tower with, and with that, he's free to rampage across the base.



The Ebirah suit looks pretty good, a gigantic shrimp, with nobby armored plates and a pair of vicious claws. Unfortunately, the brightly-colored unsubtle direction does it no service, and good design and suit acting drown in a rising tide of uninteresting direction.



Kalat is very positive about the role of Dayo, the native girl who escapes the Red Bamboo. I am not to happy. She shows toughness when she is introduced, but then quickly becomes a silent partner in the business, following the men. She has to be rescued from Godzilla, she often stumbles as she runs.

In the end, Godzilla tears Ebirah's claws off. Returning to the island, he tries to pick a fight with Mothra, but she will have none of it. As Mothra bears the escaped slave labor off the island, our heroes consider that Godzilla has done them no harm, so they shout at him to get off the island before the nuclear powerplant goes critical. And he does, leaping into the sea just before detonation.







Overall, Ebirah, Horror of the Deep is on the downward slide of the Showa Godzilla franchise. Jun Fukuda lacks Ishiro Honda's deftness. The script is uninteresting, more about the wacky adventures of the humans than their interactions with the monsters. The suitimation combats are pretty good, aside from the Giant Condor. This is not one of the classic Godzilla films, and really doesn't add much to the franchise.

Next up, Gamera and the amazing technolcolor rainbow!

Scarionettes: The Giant Claw and Reptilicus (but mostly Repticlicus)

The intention with My Year of Monsters is to trace the way that monster movies formed, to see the influences that have brought us to the modern monster movie. So some films only deserve a minor mention. The Giant Claw (1959) is one. It's a cheap, by-the-numbers monster film with an unconvincing marionette that is actually let down by the plot and dialog. The monster effects are so legendarily bad that the film has a Plan 9 From Outer Space-style fanbase. Don't believe me? Try being terrified by this:



Sadly, the film's logic roughly matches the special effects. The script is cheap, but at no time do the actors treat it as anything but dead serious. There's a lot of nothing that happens. I probably shouldn't be picky about the logic of my movies. After all, Godzilla is a giant, walking dinosaur with radioactive heat breath. I'll stretch my suspension of disbelief pretty far, given a good set-uo. But a gigantic space bird that's not actually a bird while having an antimatter shield kind of hurts my brain. Even if it chows down on the Empire State Building and the United Nations. It's bad. And I've already given it more time and attention that it deserves.

The 1961 Reptilicus, on the other hand, is a lot more interesting. The only kaiju film made in Denmark, Reptilicus is a significant departure from giant monster films of the past. While Reptilicus is a unique, unprecidented dinosaur-like creature, we do not initially encounter it full-size, or as the result of radiation. Reptilicus is discovered by a team of prospectors searching for copper. A portion is brought up on a drill, and through some scientific mismanagement, the creature manages to regenerate its entire body.



The only version available to me is the English dub. The preliminary narratation feels like it was added, and the dubbed dialog is staid. Getting small glimpses of the Danish version (bracketing the Danish-exclusive flying scenes) convinces me that the original delivery, in Danish, has a lot more energy and character. Like the Godzilla franchise, the early protagonists are a scientist and a reporter, men of truth, loaning the plot credibility. But that switches over to General Greyson when Reptilicus is ravaging Denmark. The film is places a comedy, with the lovely young women fighting over the handsome scientist, and Dirch Passer, a very popular comedian, was cast as the bumbling security guard.

About a half an hour in, there's a five-mnute commercial for Danish tourism, includng a lounge singer extolling Copenhagen. It's not horrible, but it certainly stops the film cold. And it feels a little strange to tourish-shill for a city a giant monster is about to destroy. It should be said, however, that Japanese cities have apparently lobbied for their city to get stomped in the later Godzilla franchise films.



Our first glimpse of the resurrected Reptilicus is about half an hour into the film, and we get our first good look at minute forty, right as the military starts sending a lot of ammo downrange. Reptilicus, like all self-respecting kaiju, is immune to shells and bullets. However, it can be lit on fire, and the military force a retreat by unleashing a flamethrower.



This shows a very Western reliance on the military to solve problems. Although the science boffins are kept along as advisors, General Greyson is lionized as the military man who doesn't want the job, but delivers the final blow to the creature when all is ready. This was something that the 1998 American Godzilla suffered from, that conventional arms and armaments are able to deal with the gigantic mence, even if it isn't in the standard fashion. In a post-World War II country that has not reounced violence, this is understandable, but it removes some of the novelty of the monster. If conventional weapons can destroy it, then it's just a matter of deploying them, and the problem is solved. Pacific Rim sidesteps this by showing us human-made momsters, Jaegers, that were able to take on kaiju on their own terms.

Reptilicus's cry/bellow is long and complex, and seems to include some sort of bell. It isn't strong enough to identify itself above the musical soundtrack. It's more like ambient sound when the monster is being shown, which is something of a relief after the ruacous and repetitive nature of The Giant's Claw's battle cry.



The American Reptilicus has an acid breath that is not present in the Danish version. Once the viewer is aware of this, it's easy to see that it has been introduced post-production, because it never affects anything. Reptilicus vomits/spits a line of glowing green slime, then the screen gets covered by it, and the shot ends. Some dialog refers to the acid slime, but never we see any victims. I would like to see the Danish version some day, because it would be very strange to watch Reptilicus unable to strike back at the military, only destroying what comes within its short reach.



Monsters are drawn to cities like college students to a keg, so Reptilicus heads for Copenhagen. Once it is there, it homes in on a famous landmark. It chooses the Børsen, which held the Danish stock exchange until 1974. We get an unintentionally funny moment as the spire, shaped like twining dragons' tails, balances on its head after falling.



Reptillicus offers us only two very quick scenes of the destruction left behind by the monster, which could be stock footage sowing the aftermath fo a fire. The film clearly wants to be more of a fantasy film than a horror one, thrilling the audience rather than bringing up memories of bombing raids. There are plenty of scenes with fleeing crowds, but I couldn't help wonder what happened to all the bicycles that had been mentioned in the section promoting Denmark. Perhaps all the cyclists got out of the city earlier.

Reptilicus is defaeted in a combination of the Kong and Beast from 20,000 Fathoms techniques; by drugging it, but delivered by a special shell. Of course, they've only made one shell, and they don't have Lee van Cleef to fire it. So the general has to, because being a high military rank means you're the best shot witgh a bazooka. But once Reptilicus is drugged and down in front of the Scandic Palace Hotel, the film ends. What are they going to do with 70 meters drugged regenerating pseudo-dinosaur? And, of course, there's a paw that was blown off earlier, so there was the possibility of a sequel. Following the success of 1998's Godzilla, director Sidney Pink attempted to make a sequel, but he died before he was able to.



Reptilicus is a fun film, different from the kaiju films that preceeded it. Although uneven in tone, moving from comedy to military action to science discussion, it manages to cohere into a decent, if not spectacular monster film. Certainly it's good to get away from the usual tropes, but it becomes clear each time a new film studio got involved with giant monster films that the Toho crew were spectacualarly good at their jobs, and the brilliance of monster-maker Eiji Tsuburaya is stunning.

Next up, the most famous match in kaiju history, as the Big Ape and the King of the Monsters go toe to toe.