Archive for Godzilla Vs Mothra

Playmates

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , on August 30, 2010 by dcairns

I’m actually nearer the end than the beginning — my INSANE QUEST to see all the films depicted in Denis Gifford’s big green book of monsters actually looks like it might have an end in sight. For instance, I realised that GODZILLA VS THE THING is in fact GODZILLA VS MOTHRA, which I’ve seen, which left only two giant Japanese monster movies (kaiju) to watch, GAPPA THE TRIPHIBIAN MONSTER and GAMERA VS JIGER. Both sure to be treats, I thought, since I’d never seen either monster in action, despite having gloated at their images in books like Gifford’s since I was old enough to squawk.

GAPPA came first, an intriguing monster since he stems from the Nikkatsu studio, rather than Godzilla’s progenitors at Toho, and also because there’s three of him. But I’m getting ahead of myself. First let me tell you about my NEW WORD. This is a word you use to describe something that seems to be in the wrong place, like a giant gorilla in downtown Manhattan, and the word is KINGKONGRUOUS.

Maybe the film’s one original idea/image — monster eyes watching from the deep. Impressive, especially as it seems to be a real physical effect. I refuse to count “triphibean” as an idea.

GAPPA is a film of two halves, both of them stolen. The first half is pure KONG, with a ship full of scientists trawling the pacific in search of undiscovered animals which can be used to populate a new resort, improbably named Playmate Island, which is the dreamchild of a magazine magnate (mag-mag for short). Hitting the ground running, director Harayasu Noguchi (whose career seems to have come to an end the year of this film’s release) introduces us to this gang of clichés (soulful girl, staunch fellow, annoying comedy dweeb) already en route to Obelisk Island (so named for the mountain shaped like a slow-witted Gaul), and sets up their purpose with a quick scene back on the mainland. All that out of the way, they can come ashore on the monster-infested isle only ten minutes into the film, thereby making me morally certain that Peter Jackson has never seen this film. Call it my woman’s intuition.

Oops — aren’t you supposed to REPLACE the blue screen with something?

Thrillingly, the island is populated by Japanese extras in blackface, and a particularly disturbing little boy in an Afro wig, who warns them not to disturb Gappa, but being scientists they’re unaccustomed to listening to the simple native wisdom of small boys in afro wigs, so they go blundering in. An earthquake swiftly clears away the statue blocking their path and cracks open a massive egg. Behaving slightly more sympathetically than Sinbad’s men with the Roc egg, they abduct the gallumphing newborn Gappa and set sail for Tokyo (Playmate Island now turns out to be a big land-mass-shaped red herring, never to be spoken off again).

Now the movie makers can stop ripping off KING KONG, although they don’t, and start ripping off GORGO, the British entry in the kaiju stakes, where a mother monster tramples London in search of its young. In GAPPA, we have a mother AND father beastie, stomping all over the map of Japan while the authorities refuse to even consider giving up the infant monster, until finally they do. At this point I was perversely rooting for little Gappa Jnr to join forces with Ma and Pa Gappa and continue ravaging the nation until there’s not a three foot balsa skyscraper left standing.

To stave off the inevitable tedium as the monsters, looking not unlike Sam the American Eagle from The Muppet Show, stagger disconsolately around a dusk-lit diorama, I started fantasising about my dream project, a shot-for-shot remake of GAPPA in which all the scenes would be the same, with only the sets changed around. In this version, the human actors, grown grotesquely swollen, would play their scenes amid the miniature scale replicas of island jungles and Tokyo streets, while the monsters would lumber around in conventional sets, bumping into sofas and barking their rubbery shins on coffee tables.

If we can’t get the rights to this one, let’s just remake AS GOOD AS IT GETS, but with the entire cast in rubber monster costumes. “You make me want to be a better man.” Poignant!

“Whee!” Baby Gappa recreates the opening of LA DOLCE VITA.

Puny Humans

Posted in FILM, Mythology with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 4, 2008 by dcairns

Danger Island

It’s a real problem, the human characters in giant monster movies. They’re nearly always boring. KING KONG is the exception, as with so many things — in all three versions of KK, the humans are a bit more interesting than they absolutely need to be. The less-is-more economy and pace of the first film make it the winner, of course. Quasi-sequel MIGHTY JOE YOUNG also does OK — Robert Armstrong is even more ebullient and explosive than he is in KK. A shame he never played anything Shakespearian on screen. What do you think: Lear? Macbeth?

The ’70s KONG has Jeff Bridges as a sort of more passionate and committed version of the Dude from THE BIG LEBOWSKI, and Jessica Lange playing the character who’s most like herself (slightly dippy blonde actress). The Jackson version has lots of “characterisation”, but doesn’t really understand the basic principle of characterisation through action, which is a bit of a shame since it’s an action film. For example, Adrien Brody is a writer. Yet, once the drama starts (an hour in) he acts exactly like Indiana Jones. I accept that we might need him to be slightly more physical than, say, Truman Capote, but what’s the point of all that set-up if you’re just going to forget it once the running and jumping starts?

Similarly, Jamie Bell is established as a kid who’s never fired a gun in his life, yet soon he’s shooting insects off Adrien Brody’s privates with the skill of a veritable Lee Harvey Oswald (ah, if only L.H.O. had confined his marksmanship to shooting insects off Adrien Brody’s privates, how different the political scene might be today).

(I remember seeing the DJ-musician Moby introduce a GODZILLA movie on TV, with the words, “As kids, we were very keen on monster movies, because the alternative seemed to be movies without monsters, and who would want that?”)

I love Ray Harryhausen’s work (he’s coming to the Edinburgh Film Festival — we’ve bought our tickets), but few of his films manage to create endearing human characters to compare to the little rubber guys. The great Lionel Jeffries in THE FIRST MEN IN THE MOON is one (and that film is probably the best film qua filmof Harryhausen’s oevre) and Raquel Welch certainly makes her presence felt in ONE MILLION YEARS B.C. but I’m not sure that’s anything to do with characterisation. I think she’s there to make the dinosaurs look more life-like by comparison. JASON AND THE ARGONAUTS is jam-packed with fascinating thesps, from Nigel Green to Niall McGinnis, and they’re always welcome, but they don’t make much impact as human beings, since their dialogue is a bit stiff and their scenes feel like between-monster padding. Harryhausen’s last opus, CLASH OF THE TITANS, populates Olympus with an improbable throng of thesps (Olivier & Andress! Maggie Smith and Pat Roach!) but they have little of the snazziness James Woods brings to the role of Hades in the Disney HERCULES — the high-water mark of Greek god impersonation in Hollywood cinema.

In a lot of monster attack films, like WAR OF THE WORLDS, the heroes, being unable to do meaningful battle with an enemy so much bigger than themselves, are reduced to running around helplessly and speculating about what might be going on. Spielberg’s version actually gets around this for most of its running time by putting the protagonist and his family in a lot of very dangerous situations, but he comes a cropper on the ending, in which the Earth is saved no thanks to Tom Cruise.

Actually, if we accept JAWS as a monster movie, which I suggest we have to, Spielberg and his writers deserve a bit of credit for serving up engaging, if 2D, characters who actually occupy far more screen time than the sea beast. Of course, his three leading men are very watchable anyway.

I’m going to throw in a mention of TREMORS as well, since that has enjoyable, affable lead characters also. Why is this so hard as soon as a monster rears its head? I suppose these films typically didn’t attract the best actors, as much of the budget went on special effects. And the directors were usually ex-designers, photographers and special effects men themselves, rather than “actors’ directors”. And the writers? Science fiction is full of authors whose ability to deal with wild ideas outstrips their ability to deal with human conversation, so that could be part of it. KRONOS has some decent ideas, but flat characterisation. Imagine a giant monster movie written by Harold Pinter. That would be GREAT. Giant lizard feet could trample Buckingham Palace during the pauses.

THE GIANT BEHEMOTH, A.K.A. BEHEMOTH, A.K.A. BEHEMOTH THE SEA MONSTER, which we watched recently, suffers the same problems of boring scientists and passive protagonists. The film is the work of art director Eugene Lourie, who turned director and gave the world this thing and also GORGO, a man-in-a-suit monster movie much loved for its plot twist of the even larger mummy monster coming to rescue the baby. It’s the DUMBO of kaiju films. Oh, and he did Harryhausen’s THE BEAST FROM 20,000 FATHOMS, “suggested by” Ray Bradbury’s great pulp-poetry story The Fog Horn, which my mum told me about when I was little, sparking my imagination wonderfully (thanks mum!) and THE COLOSSUS OF NEW YORK, which to my regret I haven’t seen.

The monster in BEHEMOTH is another of those radioactive dinosaurs, whose sinister emanations have the effect of turning bystanders into drawings of skeletons. Nasty stuff, that radiation.

The only human element in the film is Jack MacGowran, an actor incapable of being uninteresting for a second or of underplaying for a frame. Here he’s on good form, having not yet succumbed to the bottle altogether. By the time of Peter Brook’s glum and fusty KING LEAR, MacGowran, though still somehow able to remember his lines, was quite unable to remember what they meant. Some how he still compels attention in that film and in THE EXORCIST (that “cursed movie” which supposedly claimed his life), but he’s much better when he actually knows what he’s doing. It’s such a relief when he ambles into BEHEMOTH halfway through – an eccentric showstopper, a smirking onrush of tics and mannerisms — and such a shame when he and his helicopter are subsumed by a hungry saurian just minutes later. It’s arguable that MacGowran’s thespian rampage is far more damaging to the film than the monster is to London — he makes everything seem so dull by comparison.

The behemoth is played by a glove puppet for most of the film, turning into an animated Willis H. O’Brien creation in the last ten minutes. Too little too late, though all the rampaging provides the usual fun (only kids and monsters actually rampage. Native people go on the rampage, which seems to be subtly different). And we do get a few underwater shots, which for some reason is rare in these movies.

But apart from MacGowran and the above examples, human characters in monster films still seem like an endangered species.

I guess there’s always the Peanut Sisters from GODZILLA VERSUS MOTHRA. Their characterisation consisted of (a) the fact that they were very small, and (b) the fact that they were called the Peanut Sisters. Oh, and I think they sang a song.

That’s more than can be said for Tom Cruise.

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