Gamera vs Gyaos

Gamera vs Gyaos (1967)
Daiei Motion Picture Company
Director: Yuasa Noriaki (also handling SFX, and ditto for all the rest)
Also known as: Return of the Giant Monsters (the extremely bland title of the version first shown on American TV).
Also discussed: Gamera vs Viras (1968), Gamera vs Guiron (1969), Gamera vs Jiger (1970), Gamera vs Zigra (1971).


It’s hard to find insightful things to say about the Shōwa era Gamera movies when, increasingly, their sole purpose is “cash in on the kaiju eiga that have gone before”. (Then again, the same could be said of some of the Godzilla movies covered so far and others still to come.)

Let’s instead ask the question, when’s a good time to get off the Shōwa Gamera train? At what point do these films become too much of a slog to watch? Opinions vary, but I’d say Gamera vs Gyaos is the last truly enjoyable instalment in this series. The filmmakers have clearly decided who their target audience is going to be from now on – move aside, Tsutsumi, Eiichi is indisputably the star character here, a little smartarse who outmanoeuvres a slippery journalist, puts the greedy villagers in their place and holds court in the JSDF’s planning room. But there’s still room around him for at least some of the adult characters to have a bit of dignity and drama. And although Gyaos suffers from the rigidness and cartoonish appearance that will be a hallmark of Gamera’s foes in the rest of the series, he's a lot of fun and his attack on Nagoya is a sustained highlight of the film. He was evidently a hit at the time, since Gamera vs Guiron featured the cameo appearance of a “Space Gyaos” and a reimagined Gyaos would be a core element of the Heisei era Gamera films.

After this point, the series will fall into a predictable formula: two kids, one Japanese and one American, outwit the adults around them and team up with Gamera to defeat a hostile kaiju and save the day. Gamera, rebranded as “the friend of all children”, will turn up and fight purely to defend Earth and humanity, not because he happened to be in the area absorbing energy from a volcano or a power station. The abrasive “Gamera March” will feature prominently on the soundtrack. The kids will tend to be both boys, the sole exception being Gamera vs Zigra. The guest kaiju will tend to be an alien invader, apart from Jiger who’s a “demon beast” unleashed by the removal of an ancient statue from a fictional island.

With a reduced budget for each movie – slashed in half after Gamera vs Gyaos – the series will resort to two methods to cut costs even further. The first and most obvious is the increasing reuse of footage from earlier movies. Gamera vs Gyaos reuses some old footage, as do a number of Godzilla films, but in a way that’s skilful enough that you might not notice unless you already knew to look for it. That’s not true of the later Shōwa Gameras, particularly when monochrome shots from Gamera the Giant Monster (1965) are jarringly dropped into a colour movie or when the script contrives some way to redeploy the lengthy scene of Gamera destroying a dam from Gamera vs Barugon (1966).

The other money-saving measure is for director Yuasa Noriaki to use contemporary events or attractions as a source of cheap crowd scenes or location footage. Gamera vs Viras will benefit from a collaboration with the 4th Nippon Scout Jamboree, under which Yuasa seemingly gains a ready-made background cast of scouts and campground set in return for shooting a short promotional film for the scouts. Gamera vs Jiger will take full advantage, in its setting and plot details, of the preparations being made for Ōsaka to host Expo ’70, the 1970 World’s Fair. Gamera vs Zigra looks very much like a publicity exercise for the then recently opened Kamogawa Sea World.

Why continue to produce these films, with their requirements for new kaiju costumes and effects sequences, if money was so tight? The fact that they had a willing overseas distributor might have been an incentive to keep going, even if it was only American International Television (AIT), the TV department of AIP. The inclusion of an American child co-star in each one, the junior equivalent of Toho casting Nick Adams and Russ Tamblyn in the mid-60s, looks like a ploy to keep the US distributor sweet. But it wasn’t enough to keep Daiei afloat. They’d been suffering cashflow problems despite their rapid turnover of non-kaiju films, and they’d been hit hard by the rise of television and the decline in box office sales during the 1960s. In 1970 they formed a shared domestic distribution company with Nikkatsu, another ailing film production company, in a last-ditch effort to cut costs. Nikkatsu bailed out in late 1971, and by the end of that year Daiei had declared bankruptcy. (Nikkatsu, incidentally, deferred their bankruptcy until the late 1980s by moving into exploitation movies.)

Daiei’s long-running series of films about Zatoichi, the blind itinerant masseur and master swordsman, continued for a while over at Toho Studios, but only because the lead actor had been part-funding the films through his own production company and was consequently able to take the franchise away with him. Everything else went into mothballs until Tokuma Shoten, a publishing company who’d acquired Daiei’s assets, set up a new company called Daiei Film in 1974. Daiei Film’s production output, small and infrequent, would include four Gamera films, one best forgotten and three with a much better reputation.

Ebirah, Horror of the Deep

Ebirah, Horror of the Deep (1966)
Toho Studios
Director: Fukuda Jun, Arikawa Sadamasa (special effects, although Tsuburaya Eiji gets the credit on-screen)
Also known as: Godzilla vs the Sea Monster (the US title).


Actor-watch first. Yoshimura, the criminal with a heart of gold, is played by Takarada Akira, most recently seen as the lead Japanese astronaut in Invasion of Astro-Monster (1965). Tazaki Jun, the Red Bamboo leader, was also in Astro-Monster playing Takarada’s boss and was in charge of the JSDF forces in The War of the Gargantuas (1966). The Red Bamboo guard commander is played by Hirata Akihiko, the eyepatch-wearing Dr Serizawa in Godzilla (1954) – and he’s even wearing an eyepatch in this movie! Dayo, the Infant Islander with the highest billing, is played by Mizuno Kumi, who seems to just pop up in everything around this time.

When discussing Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster (1964), I mentioned the geopolitical interpretations some commentators have made about the Godzilla movies and that I felt there was plausible deniability around Ghidorah being some kind of stand-in for China. I don’t think there’s that deniability in Ebirah, Horror of the Deep. I mean, the name “Red Bamboo” is a bit of a giveaway. It’s never stated outright whether the villains of this movie are supposed to be actually Chinese or some kind of terrorist organisation, but they do have a very convincing military uniform as well as a navy and an air force, and that air force is flying Chinese fighter jets or a very close approximation. The Red Bamboo also have an active nuclear weapons programme, which might not be beyond the kind of villainous organisation you might find in a James Bond movie around this time but was certainly true of China, who’d been testing fission bombs since October 1964. What’s more, Chairman Mao had launched the Cultural Revolution seven months before this movie was released, which might have ramped up Japanese anxiety about the militancy of the Chinese Communist Party.

Relations between Japan and China would eventually be eased somewhat by the “Treaty of Peace and Friendship between Japan and China” signed in 1978, two years after Mao’s death.

The other big thing to say about Ebirah, which is fairly well known already, is that this started out as a King Kong movie. Getting the rights to Kong now involved talking to Rankin/Bass Animated Entertainment, who were developing a King Kong cartoon series that would premiere on American TV in September 1966, and in Japan in the same month as Ebirah’s cinematic release. The tie-in potential was obvious. (Funnily enough, the animation for The King Kong Show (1966-67) was created by the animation wing of one of Toho’s rivals, Toei Company Ltd.) But The King Kong Show, which was similar to but not as polished as Hanna-Barbera’s later animated Godzilla (1978-79), included some distinctive original elements that didn’t mesh neatly enough with the proposed script for Ebirah. Rankin/Bass objected, so Kong was replaced with Godzilla. Toho would go on to make King Kong Escapes (1967), which actively used a couple of those elements from the animated series.

And it’s not hard to spot the joins. Godzilla can usually be found in the sea, not sleeping in a cave. That one of the characters suggests reviving him with electricity, and that this works, is in line with minor plot elements of King Kong v Godzilla (1962) even if it has no precedent in the American Kong canon. Once again the plot involves some sort of fruit juice that sedates kaiju, yellow instead of red this time (although, then again, magical juice also featured in Mothra (1961)). Shots of Godzilla picking up boulders and lobbing them at Ebirah or at parts of the Red Bamboo compound make more sense when you imagine Kong doing it. Godzilla calms down and stares doe-eyed at Dayo in exactly the way Kong would, and exactly the way Godzilla generally doesn’t.

That Godzilla is more heroic than usual here, that he seems to take at least some interest in the different human factions on the island, that he’s so humanly expressive and that the kaiju fights look so much like choreographed wrestling matches doesn’t necessarily add to the list of anomalies. Yes, these are all things that would have suited a Kong movie, but they’re also somewhat true of Godzilla in Invasion of Astro-Monster. Perhaps we might say that Astro-Monster, fortuitously in hindsight, laid some of the groundwork for Godzilla’s shift in personality here.

Ebirah is a movie that seems targeted at a youth audience, as distinct from the child audience subsequent movies are evidently aiming for. There’s all that surf rock in the incidental music for a start, as well as the dancing endurance contest early on. I think our heroes suggest the age bracket the filmmakers might have been aiming for. What fashion there is consists of the young men’s polo shirts and brightly coloured jackets (terrible camouflage when trying to hide from foreign soldiers, by the way) and the hairdos and dresses the Shobijin are wearing, which wouldn’t have looked at all out of place in a contemporary domestic scene in any other Toho movie.

That later Godzilla movies didn’t continue to chase this audience but went instead, and with some blatancy, for younger cinemagoers could be partly a response to the Gamera movies. Daiei had made a bid to break into the kaiju market and enjoyed some success with child viewers, and Toho would certainly have wanted to compete. But their biggest domestic rival wasn’t Daiei – it was their own expert special effects director.

Tsuburaya Eiji is still credited on Ebirah, but he didn’t oversee its tokusatsu sequences himself – he was already halfway out the door and building up his own TV production company. He’d founded Tsuburaya Productions in 1963 as an independent effects company, and in 1966 the in-house productions started in earnest. Ultra Q (1966), which might be thought of as a kind of kaiju-heavy Japanese precursor to The X-Files (1993-2002), aired across the first half of 1966, and Ultraman (original series 1966-67) debuted in the second half of the year. The anthology nature of these shows and the rapid turnaround of TV production meant that Tsuburaya could quickly test and iterate new effects techniques. And if something didn’t work, the viewers at home would soon forget about it and there’d be something different on screen a week later. Kids hungry for novelty could now get their fix of slambang monster violence at home on TV practically every week, so the film studios would have to work harder to get their attention and, through pester power, their parents’ ticket money.

Ultraman was a massive success – there’s been a new Ultraman series or special on Japanese TV in more of the 58 years since than not, and inevitably it spawned some very successful imitators. Toei Company Ltd enjoyed great success with their Kamen Rider (original series 1971-73) and Super Sentai (original series 1975-77) franchises. Toho would be hard pressed to keep up.

The War of the Gargantuas

The War of the Gargantuas (1966)
Toho Studios
Director: Honda Ishirō, Tsuburaya Eiji (special effects)
Also discussed: Frankenstein vs Baragon (1965) (a.k.a. Frankenstein Conquers the World, the fantastically inaccurate US title).


When is a sequel not a sequel?

The War of the Gargantuas both is and is not a sequel to the previous year’s Frankenstein vs Baragon. (Note: that’s the Toho kaiju Baragon, not to be confused with the Daiei kaiju Barugon, who clashed with Gamera in 1966.) This probably wasn’t anything to do with the “King Kong vs Frankenstein" script treatment that had led to the production of King Kong vs Godzilla – there seem to have been multiple Frankenstein-themed ideas knocking about at Toho in the mid-1960s. Without wanting to get into the full blow-by-blow detail of it, here’s the gist of the earlier movie:


Gargantuas makes frequent references to this earlier film, yet makes some surprising revisions. The three main scientist characters are renamed and, with the exception of the female scientist and romantic lead, recast. Dr Bowen in Frankenstein vs Baragon was played by Nick Adams, who went on to star in Invasion of Astro-Monster later that year. There’s no obvious reason why he couldn’t have appeared in Gargantuas – he was in Japan and available, and he’d work for Toho again in a 1967 spy thriller. Instead he was replaced by Russ Tamblyn, the Mercutio substitute in West Side Story (1961) and Luke in The Haunting (1963), as Dr Stewart. To date, this is the only Japanese film Tamblyn has acted in. Like Adams, he was recorded speaking in English and then dubbed over by a Japanese actor. Mizuno Kumi, the semi-villainous Namikawa in Invasion of Astro-Monster, played both Sueko in Frankenstein and Akemi in Gargantuas. Dr Kawaji, played by Takashima Tadao (Sakurai in King Kong vs Godzilla) was replaced with Dr Mamiya, played by Sahara Kenji, who’d been a hero in Rodan (1956), a villain in Mothra vs Godzilla (1964) and, funnily enough, a bit-part lab assistant in Frankenstein vs Baragon.

In order to show a flashback scene of the scientists working with the young Frankenstein, the film-makers are thus obliged to reshoot it with their new scientists, and they take the opportunity to recast the monster as well. The 1965 Frankenstein was a fairly ordinary looking boy with an extremely pronounced brow, presumably meant to evoke Boris Karloff’s squared-off monster head but looking more like a depiction of a Neanderthal. The 1966 Frankenstein, later renamed Sanda, looks much hairier and more animalistic, in line with the realisation of the adult Sanda and Gaira. The overall effect of these changes, together with the vague callbacks to key events from the earlier movie, is to make Gargantuas seem like a sequel not to the movie itself, but to some approximated half-remembered version of it, perhaps a version Toho wished they had made in hindsight. The American dub increases the distance between the two movies by replacing all mentions of Frankenstein with the word "Gargantua", including in the title (which, translated from the original Japanese, would have been “Frankenstein’s Monsters: Sanda vs Gaira”). Toho have happily adopted the American dub title as their preferred Anglo title for this movie.

I think the most notable thing about this revisionism is that it erases any suggestion that the boy Frankenstein was made possible by the wartime collaboration of Imperial Japan and Nazi Germany, which is never hinted at Gargantuas. I’m not sure which is more remarkable, that a 1965 Japanese film would make explicit reference to this bit of history or that a 1966 film would so suddenly pretend not to have been listening, and I’m not aware of any major developments in either year that would explain these choices.

Considering Gargantuas on its own terms, the pacing’s very leisurely but the presentation is a success. The early scenes featuring Gaira are kept quite dark, which allows for some effective menace to start with and a big reveal around the 15-minute mark. And there are definite advantages to using humanoid costumes instead of animalistic ones in kaiju eiga, as Daiei’s Daimajin movies also show. You’re not asking your stunt actor to move in an awkward, unnaturalistic way. Seeing a 1960s kaiju actually run, as Gaira does, is an astonishing thing. It’s easier for the audience to suspend disbelief in a monster that looks like a person in a costume when it’s actually supposed to move like a person. (Incidentally, I think this might be part of the reason for the success of Godzilla and King Kong, both bipedal kaiju, in the days before CGI.) If your monster doesn’t have a tail or wings, you don’t need extra puppeteers to move those things around convincingly. You can use the expressiveness of the actor’s own eyes, perhaps even more of their face (although Sanda and Gaira’s big, protruding teeth hinder more than help), instead of having to rely on close-up shots of puppet heads or, if you’re lucky, animatronics. You might even end up with a lighter, more streamlined costume than the typical daikaiju, something that isn’t so likely to have your stunt actor fainting under those hot studio lights. When Sanda and Gaira fight, it doesn’t look like a carefully choreographed bout between two men in heavy costumes, it looks like full-on wrestling.

The human drama is a bit lacking, but who cares about that, eh?

Sanda and Gaira will be referenced in at least one Godzilla movie (just when you least expect it!) but probably this film’s greatest legacy to Toho’s kaiju eiga is the introduction of the Maser Cannons. These will end up being the fantasy JSDF’s anti-Godzilla weapon of choice in years to come.

Gamera vs Barugon

Gamera vs Barugon (1966)
Daiei Motion Picture Company
Director: Tanaka Shigeo, Yuasa Noriaki (special effects)
Also known as: War of the Monsters (the American title).


Of all the Shōwa era Gamera movies, this one’s the looker – filmed in colour and with twice the budget Gamera the Giant Monster had. It’s still only about half of what Toho were spending on their Godzilla movies around this time, though. And it’s all downhill from here – there’s a 25% drop in the budget for the third Gamera movie, and films four through seven only get half as much as that. There are reasons for both the declining budgets and the continued spending, but we’ll come back to those.

The money’s been well spent on effects, including a very nice scene of a dam breaking and flooding out the surrounding area in miniature. (It’s such a good scene, it will be cut into film after film later in the series when the funds run out.) The kaiju costumes aren’t terrific, but they’re mitigated by some good models and other effects. Barugon’s freezing mist and rainbow beam add a bit of visual interest and the egg hatching effects make for a satisfying set piece. A lot of the credit belongs to Yuasa Noriaki, who was shunted from the role of main director to SFX director to make room for incoming star director Tanaka Shigeo. Yuasa would shoulder both roles for subsequent Gamera movies.

There’s not much opportunity to play Spot the Actor in Daiei’s smaller kaiju eiga oeuvre, but two of the stars here might be familiar. Hongō Kōjirō, playing Keisuke, was formerly the driven young hero Shaki in Whale God (1962) and will reappear in heroic roles as the male lead in Return of Daimajin (1966), the construction site foreman Tsutsumi in Gamera vs Gyaos (1967) and a scoutmaster in Gamera vs Viras (1968). Karen is played by Enami Kyōko, who acted opposite Hongō in Whale God as the village chief’s daughter Toyo; this is her only Gamera movie appearance. She went on to star in Daiei’s “Gambling Woman” series of crime movies – 17 films produced in just five years (1966-71), many of them directed by Tanaka Shigeo. Her prolific acting career continued until her death in 2018.

The plot of Gamera vs Barugon is pure pulp and contains more than its share of nonsense. Barugon can be killed by being submerged in water, but we saw him wading ashore from a wrecked ship in Kobe harbour with no problem at all. His egg is supposed to take 10 years to hatch, and it’s a plot point that Onodera’s infrared lamp supercharged it somehow, yet it sat inactive in its natural habitat for 20 years. Just as implausible is the fact that Karen flies into Japan with a diamond as big as a tortoise in her pocket, which seemingly didn’t cause any problems with the airport customs officials. At least some effort is still being made to rationalise Gamera’s behaviour as seeking out energy sources, so it’s not a total coincidence that he runs into the beam-emitting Barugon, but it is all a bit perfunctory. The whole script smacks of the back of a napkin on a Friday afternoon in the bar.

Gamera vs Barugon was picked up for release in the US by American International Pictures, who had also acquired Daimajin (1966) and, prior to that, an assortment of Toho kaiju eiga including Mothra vs Godzilla (1964). However, while AIP gave Godzilla a cinematic release, they syndicated the Daiei movies through their television arm, AIT, instead. Daiei seemed happy enough to have found an American market for their turtle tokusatsu and pressed on with the next one. But Daiei was about to run into financial problems. I don’t know if it was a desire to compete with Toho, or to hold onto an overseas source of revenue, or both that kept them producing Gamera movies. As cheap as the Gamera series might have been compared to the competition, it wasn’t as good for the cash flow as Daiei’s jidaigeki and crime thriller series – one tokusatsu film a year means a less regular source of income, and less of it, than four or five a year with no expensive special effects. Whatever the case, the success of Gamera vs Barugon wasn’t the blessing it might have seemed at the time.