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Review

Wait, guys! I think I see a quarter down there!

It is tempting to think of Ghidorah as the point at which the Godzilla series got weird. Certainly, this film is an archetype of the kind of gonzo fun for which the Showa films are rightly known. But it’s hardly the beginning of the bizarre; King Kong vs. Godzilla was just as silly, albeit for satirical reasons (in part). And though Mothra vs. Godzilla was more straight-faced, it is important to remember that it was a movie about a giant, radiation-spewing sea dinosaur and his fight with two gargantuan caterpillars. Godzilla movies exist along a continuum of weird. And Ghidorah does weird right.

Seriously, BAD ASS

The star of the film himself, dread Ghidorah, perhaps best exemplifies the spirit of the film as a whole. He’s from outer space, and he’s come to destroy us all, for no reason. Is this socially relevant? Naw. Does it make any sense? Not a lot – but it makes enough. Enough to justify Ghidorah being a scary badass. Really, if the images accompanying this writing have not already convinced you that Ghidorah totally rocks, then the Showa Godzilla series is probably not for you. He looks great, he’s got a decent enough backstory, he’s maybe not so realistic – Ghidorah is Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster.

G is for - ehh, skip it.

The real turning point in the series that we see in this movie is in the characterization of Godzilla. Here begins his anti-hero period, the section of the Showa period during which Godzilla defends Earth or parts thereof from monsters more threatening than himself, without wholly relinquishing his own menace. In keeping with these new motivations, Godzilla’s general characterization is heavily humanized. He waves his arms about in an entirely non-animal way when frustrated, and makes extensive use of tools, throwing rocks to the almost complete exclusion of his breath-ray. And whether his motive for finally aiding Mothra is guilt, inspiration, or long-term self-protection, it certainly bespeaks more range of emotion than the continuous rage (and happiness about its expression) that has been. Also relevant to the softening of Godzilla is the shortening of his head; he’s beginning to look like Cookie Monster.

I swear to God, guys, it was totally this big!

Then there’s Rodan, or rather, the surviving Rodan – there was a mated pair of them in 1956’s Rodan. (The Rodan who appears from here on out is normally referred to as male, so we will assume, probably unfairly, that it is the male that survived.) His transformation from a strangely majestic terror, as he was before, to a sympathetic character goes…strangely. He’s got a new design, with a little, thin beak and big, googly eyes, which gives him a resemblance to a cartoon chicken. And he laughs visibly, and goofily, at Godzilla. Not awesome! On the other hand, he appears to be the one to come up with the final plan in the climactic battle, the plan that beats Ghidorah. So that’s cool. Also, there’s a bit where Ghidorah is flying after Rodan, and the pterosaur suddenly wheels around and rams Ghidorah, and that’s the sort of thing that makes giant monster movies, and therefore life, worthwhile.

Ich bin ein - ehh, skip it.

Mothra – again, we have only one survivor; the Shobijin actually refer to the death of her twin, which is a surprisingly grim moment in a mostly fun film – remains a big damn caterpillar. Which is gross. Her trip to humanization is much shorter than the others’; she always was kindly and benevolent, and she always could talk, through the Shobijin. Now, of course, she can talk in a new way: ‘monster talk.’

So, uhhh, anyone got any chewing gum?

We should probably discuss that for a moment. The ‘monster talk’ scene is widely reviled as the low point of this movie, and, indeed, the very moment when the Godzilla series got silly. Honda is said to have hated it, as were the children in contemporary American audiences. And it is silly. Real silly. In fact, the rest of this picture could probably be taken a lot more straight-facedly without it. But that is, of course, just fine. Godzilla works very, very well as a straightforward monster, to be feared and combated. He also works very, very well as a source of ludicrous fun. This is a strength of the idea of Godzilla, not a liability.

Helloo? Is it meee you’re looking for?

The Shobijin know this language, and the humans expect them to, which is a sign of two things: first, that the tiny women remain the intermediaries between human and Kaiju, and second, that people are finally beginning to give the pair some damn credit. Indeed, it is they who propose to the government that Mothra be summoned, to persuade the monsters to team up against Ghidorah; more importantly, the government listens. The Shobijin have always been victims before, albeit victims with something of an ace up their sleeve; here, they are celebrities, ambassadors. Good for them! Oddly, however, this rising status is accompanied by a more primitive personal appearance. Where before they wore fine fur hats with matching wraps, here they are dressed in simple brown shifts, their hair long and loose, like the stereotype of ‘island girls.’ Is this the tradeoff they have to make? Respect in exchange for stereotyping? Oh, the papers that will never ever be written!

I am from Venus. I don’t…I don’t know where these two people are from.

Anyway, it’s good that the Shobijin have more agency now, because they’ve got competition: Princess Salno, in her Venusian state. She, too, is on a level between that of humanity and the monsters; she knows when the Kaiju will appear, and is conversant in Ghidorah’s history. Her outsider status is reflected not through tininess, but rather through being monotone and emotionless. Honda directed Wakabayashi to act like a somnambulant, and, well, she did. It’s a simple sort of performance, but not overplayed, and oddly effective. Her semi-romance with Shindo is actually quite subtle. Also, when her putative killers address her, telling her “It’s been a long time,” she responds, “I am from Venus”; soon after, she is asked if she can read in the dark – “I am from Venus,” she responds. Clearly this is her answer for everything.

Naoko explains to mother about strong female characters in Kaiju movies, while Shindo, seeing a millipede, goes for his gun.

Our last remaining primary female character, Naoko, is neither from Venus, nor teeny, nor a gargantuan insect larva. Like many people with these handicaps, she holds her own just the same. Junko, from the previous movie, was the first lead female who was neither girlfriend not daughter to a lead male, but she did remain a sidekick; Naoko, on the other hand, is fully in charge. It is she who seeks out and takes responsibility for Salno; she who moves the primary plot forward. Her brother – the male lead – is the sidekick, now. Would it be fair to say, then, that between Naoko, Salno, the Shobijin, and Mothra, that this is a Godzilla movie for the ladies? Probably not, no. But let’s do it anyway.

Jesus Christ, this planet has silk! Good bye!

As far as other themes go, we get a repeat here of Mothra vs. Godzilla’s ‘hang together or they’ll hang us separate’ message. Only now it applies to the monsters, rather than the humans; yet another sign of their movement into the realm of sympathetic characterization. The monster-talk further establishes their commonality; they may be a dinosaur, a pterosaur, and a grub, but they all speak the same language. Much of their own symbolic resonance seems to dissipate with the shift to humanization. Even Ghidorah seems to represent nothing more than random, pseudo-divine wrath; giant three-headed space dragons are simply bad news. Finally, this is a film in which, like its predecessor, the day is saved by silk. Yay silk!

BZZZHAUW

And, yay Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster. It’s the first purely gonzo, big-fun Godzilla picture, and, as with so many originals, it’s the best. It’s silly, but not actually stupid; it’s full of good performances and messages. It deftly balances a number of different plotlines and themes – a detective story, an alien invader, international intrigue, prophecy, Mothra – and produces a near-seamless whole. If you can’t handle the monster talk, then you might not like this movie. If you think maybe you can, see it.

This entry was posted on Thursday, September 6th, 2007 at 1:16 am and is filed under Godzilla Project. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.