Godzilla vs Hedorah

Godzilla vs Hedorah (1971)
Toho Studios
Director: Banno Yoshimitsu, Nakano Teruyoshi (special effects)
Also known as: Godzilla vs the Smog Monster (the US title – technically, Hedorah’s more of a sewage monster, but a title like “Godzilla vs the Crap Monster” wouldn’t have done this film any favours).
Also discussed: Space Amoeba (1970).


Toho gave Godzilla a rest in 1970. The new feature headlining the summer Champion Festival that year was Space Amoeba (1970, a.k.a. Yog, Monster from Space), which can probably best be described as a kaiju exploitation flick. In this, an alien microorganism hijacks an unmanned space probe and rides it to a splashdown on Earth, near one of those classic fictional Pacific islands. There, it somehow inflates a cuttlefish (Gezora), a stone crab (Ganimes) and a matamata turtle (Kamoebas) to daikaiju size and pilots them around the island, terrorising the inhabitants and a visiting Japanese research team as a prelude to somehow conquering the world.

Apart from its own flaws, there are two sad things to note about Space Amoeba. Firstly, the special effects titan Tsuburaya Eiji had died of a heart attack at the start of the year, leaving behind him a hugely successful TV production company. He’d continued to offer advisory or supervisory help on Toho’s tokusatsu movies since going his own way and received an honorary credit on several of them; Space Amoeba was the first Toho kaiju eiga to definitely have no input from Tsuburaya. Secondly, it was the last Toho tokusatsu movie to be made by a dedicated special effects department. To economise, Toho underwent a restructure at this time and the special effects team was folded into a larger and more general visual production department. Most of the same people would provide effects for the Godzilla movies that followed.

In 1971, Toho’s management asked Banno Yoshimitsu to breathe fresh life into the Godzilla franchise. Banno was already on their books as an assistant director, but had just done some eye-catching audio-visual work for Expo ’70, the World’s Fair in Ōsaka. Godzilla vs Hedorah, which he co-wrote and directed, would be no less eye-catching.

Following his metafictional appearance in All Monsters Attack (1969), Godzilla walks the borderline between fiction and in-story “reality” in Godzilla vs Hedorah. He’s effectively summoned into the movie by little Ken, who is seen at the start playing with a couple of plastic Godzilla toys that clearly belong more in our own world than in the world of the earlier Shōwa era movies. In response to early news reports about Hedorah, Ken declares his belief that Godzilla will turn up and sort the beast out. When we get our first sight of Godzilla, it’s Ken’s dream image of him, accompanied by the narrated suggestion that Ken thinks pollution would make Godzilla angry. This is the second Toho kaiju movie in a row, and only the second ever, to feature a dream sequence, and in both cases the dreamer is a young boy calling on Godzilla for help. It’s only after this that Godzilla makes his first “real” appearance to confront Hedorah, just like Ken said he would. Ken even mimics Godzilla’s fighting moves the morning after the fight despite not having been there to see it. And what strangely human fighting moves they are, too – at one point in the later confrontation at Mt Fuji, Godzilla even strikes a pose in imitation of Ultraman, presumably another of Ken’s favourites.

Ken also seems to have some limited power over Hedorah – after all, if Godzilla’s around (whenever Ken says he is), it must mean Hedorah’s nearby too. He’s the one who names Hedorah and the alien mineral hedrium, looking for all the world like the know-it-all child hero of a Gamera movie. It’s as if he’s using the science-fictional conventions of his favourite films as a frame to interpret the news reports about oil spills and his father’s lab work. He has an uncanny knack of being where Hedorah’s about to turn up but escaping unharmed, although his uncle Yukio isn’t so lucky. And Yukio’s girlfriend Miki doesn’t seem to be any more upset about that than Ken, which adds to the sense that it isn’t quite real. I imagine Ken at the dinner table, excitedly telling everyone how this was when the monster ate Uncle Yukio’s car and that was when the monster killed Uncle Yukio, and Yukio grinning sheepishly and humouring him.

I could almost theorise that the movie never left Ken’s dream sequence, but I’ll settle for suggesting that what we’re shown isn’t meant literally, but is rather a kaiju eiga gloss Ken has put on his observation of the mundane facts of toxic chemical burns, acid rain and a sewage-filled harbour.

It’s customary to say two very obvious things about Godzilla vs Hedorah: it’s “the weird one” and it’s “the green one”. We’ll come back to the greenness in a minute. I think the weirdness is connected to what I’ve hinted at above, that this film presents a hyperactive child’s point of view rather than some documentary version of reality. In the interest of coherence, I’ve prepared a summary of the plot that doesn’t do justice to the kaleidoscope of visual non sequiturs that commentators tend to describe as “bizarre” and “surreal”. Barring one final hurrah at the end of the film, these oddities stop just ahead of the denouement on Mt Fuji, perhaps suggesting that part of their purpose is to stave off the viewer’s boredom until the big fight. Remember that Godzilla vs Hedorah debuted as part of a Toho Champion Festival to an audience of kids whose entertainment diet had shifted from the cinematic to the visual fast food of television. I don’t think director Banno was aiming for the art house crowd here. More to the point, the intrusions happen with a regularity that suggests the pattern of commercial breaks interrupting a TV show.

Some of these intrusions look like they’re emulating or commenting on other parts of the entertainment landscape that would be familiar to the kids watching. There are three animated PSAs about pollution starring a cartoon version of Hedorah – very on-the-nose for a feature that would share its Festival billing with three animated shorts. When Dr Yano holds forth on his thoughts about Hedorah’s extra-terrestrial origin and metabolism, we’re treated to flurries of illustrative images (slides of nebulas and animations of atomic reactions) as if he were presenting an educational TV programme. The frequently inserted news bulletins could also be counted as part of this narrative channel-hopping. The last major irruption of weirdness before the climactic showdown is a debate about Hedorah between two pundits in a TV studio that descends into a psychedelic collage of vox pops. Apart from the angry members of the public venting their opinions, the talking heads seem to include a baby buried collar-deep in mud, a floating skull, and Godzilla and Hedorah themselves.

Other moments seem to be just plain strange, although they could be explicable. I’m not going to attempt to reason out the third Hedorah PSA, which leads in a very Terry Gilliam-esque fashion from the silhouettes of the faces of two smog casualties to a shaded area of the same shape on a map of Fuji City in the news report about Hedorah’s attack on the amusement park. The youth club scene in which Yukio hallucinates that everyone around him has the head of a fish is something of a signature moment for this film, but I doubt it’s intended as a comment on 1970s drug culture. It happens while Miki sings about all the fish having died out, so the implication seems to be that we’re next. It presages Yukio’s turn towards fatalism after he loses his car to Hedorah. In a very weird moment, the film comments on Yukio’s Mt Fuji “go-go” party by cutting to half a dozen sombre, dead-eyed representatives of an older generation watching from the sidelines; they don’t look much more impressed when Godzilla shows up. And that final hurrah – Godzilla’s triumph, complete with heroic march music, isn’t undermined only by the question mark ending but by the ironic juxtaposition of a bay full of dead fish and Hokusai’s famous “Great Wave” woodblock print.

On to the question of environmentalism. Godzilla vs Hedorah doesn’t really dig into the “green” theme very deeply. It goes to extreme lengths to emphasise that pollution is bad, but beyond the oil tanker crashes and some animated industrial chimney stacks, it doesn’t go into any great detail about the causes of pollution and how they might be mitigated. On the other hand, the subject was in the air (so to speak) and perhaps Japanese schoolchildren were already well versed on the matter. (Perhaps, like little Ken, they were all writing poems about how angry it would make Godzilla.) International awareness of ecological issues had been growing steadily since the 1950s, with Clean Air Acts to combat urban pollution in Britain (1956) and America (1963) through regulation and the publication of Rachel Carson’s highly influential book Silent Spring (1962) on the impact of synthetic pesticides on the biosphere. In April 1970, the first Earth Day had been held on sites across America, with strong youth involvement – there was a definite overlap between its organisers and the participants of earlier college campus protests against the Vietnam War.

We might expect this film to preach to its child audience by showing its younger protagonists finding a solution to their pollution problem. On the contrary, it gives contemporary youth very short shrift – the only response Yukio and his friends, defiant but defeatist, can mount against Hedorah is to organise a massive, impotent love-in that costs several of them their lives. One might imagine Banno had heard about the inaugural Earth Day and been unimpressed. No, this film has quite another saviour in mind.

Remember when Godzilla used to represent atomic power in the form of the bomb? Here, a heroic Godzilla saves the world from ecological collapse by using his radioactive breath to charge up the gigantic electrodes that fry Hedorah. We’re shown more than once that the JSDF can’t defeat Hedorah until Godzilla steps in and gives them the juice they need. He represents atomic power again, but this time as an energy source.

After some initial wariness, Japan’s first commercial nuclear reactor, at the Tōkai Nuclear Power Plant in Ibaraki Prefecture in the Kantō region, had commenced operations in July 1966. Two more reactors, at the Tsuruga and Mihama Nuclear Power Plants, had opened for business in 1970, the year before this film’s release – both were located in Fukui Prefecture in the Chūbu region. Chūbu and Kantō are the two regions specifically namechecked by the JSDF officer who explains the giant electrode plan to Dr Yano. These had all been built using the expertise and methods of the British nuclear power industry. In March 1971, just four months before the festival debut of Godzilla vs Hedorah, the first reactor of the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant began commercial operations. This was the first major collaboration between the Japanese and American nuclear energy industries, so if we wanted to re-establish Godzilla’s links specifically to American atomic power, we might look to Fukushima Daiichi, although it’s in the Tōhoku region to the north-east of the area specified in the film. Construction began on more nuclear plants in 1970 and 1971, in the Chūbu and Kantō regions and further afield, and more reactors would be added to the existing plants in subsequent years.

At its peak, around the turn of the millennium, nuclear power met as much as 40% of Japan’s total energy needs and was hugely popular with the public. It was widely seen as a cleaner alternative to burning fossil fuels and is still touted as such, although nowadays we can cite plenty of examples of how badly it can go wrong. (The disruption of Fukushima Daiichi by the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and the resulting environmental contamination, for example, which would abruptly turn public opinion in Japan against nuclear power. Godzilla would end up commenting on that, too.) I’m sure there must have been some fanfare around the 1970 launch of the two power plants in the Chūbu region and the 1971 launch of the Fukushima plant. Whether any of these directly influenced Banno’s script is moot, but I think the overall theme is clearly there.

Godzilla vs Hedorah wasn’t well received by the press, and producer Tanaka Tomoyuki wasn’t best pleased with it either, particularly the scene of Godzilla “flying”. Banno wasn’t allowed near Toho’s Godzilla movies again, but on the bright side, he did end up as an executive producer on Legendary Pictures’ Godzilla (2014).

All Monsters Attack

All Monsters Attack (1969)
Toho Studios
Director: Honda Ishirō, Nakano Teruyoshi (special effects in close collaboration with Honda)
Also known as: Godzilla’s Revenge (the American title, although it sounds more like a British euphemism relating to spicy food).


In December 1969, Toho made their bid to win Godzilla’s audiences back from television to cinema, or at least to present a viable alternative form of entertainment for children who could now get their fix of hyperactive kaiju action every week for free at home. Tokusatsu movies released to theatres in the usual way just couldn’t hold their own at the box office any more. The last one Toho sent out to fend for itself, in July, was the execrable Latitude Zero (1969), based on an American pulp radio serial and notable for being filmed entirely in English and guest starring Cesar “The Joker” Romero as the villain. I would suggest that this item was never going to turn Toho’s fortunes around, but in any event it clearly didn’t do much to restore the studio’s confidence in kaiju eiga.

Their solution was the Toho Champion Festival: a half-day event, usually on a Saturday, run as many as three times a year at its peak. (Spoiler alert: its peak lasted about four years. From 1975 to 1978 it ran only once a year, in March, and then, to borrow a phrase from Edgar Allan Poe, television held illimitable dominion over all.) For the price of admission, parents could leave their kids at one of Toho’s theatre outlets and get some time to themselves, and the kids could take in multiple features with a total runtime of a bit less than four hours. The attractions were a mix of old tokusatsu edited down to an hour and a quarter (less talk, more action!), cinematic cuts of TV episodes, animated features and shorts and the debut releases of the last six Shōwa series Godzilla films.

Toho copied this format from Toei Company’s successful Manga Festival (dedicated, despite the name, to live action as well as anime), which had been running since 1964. At least Toho had the luxury of being able to do this, unlike the Daiei Motion Picture Company which would have been too far in the red by the end of 1969 to try anything similar on Gamera’s behalf. The Champion Festival’s most lasting and infamous legacy is that those cutdown reissues of Toho’s earlier films were achieved by butchering the original film negatives, causing them severe damage.

All Monsters Attack, the first Godzilla movie to debut in this setting, leans heavily into the situation. It isn’t a film about Godzilla, but a film about an ordinary, contemporary child who reflects the intended audience, who’s watched the recent Godzilla movies and uses them as a moral compass in his parents’ absence. Perhaps some of those festival attendees were themselves “latchkey kids”, passing some time at the cinema while their parents were out working extra hours. The film has a proportional content of recycled footage that would make even Gamera vs Viras (1968) blush, but this is put into good service as the clay out of which Ichirō’s dreams are formed. Like many of the young viewers, I’m sure, Ichirō has seen those earlier movies and, in the days before home media, has relived the action scenes in his head, perhaps misremembering them or mixing them up, even projecting himself into them. The replayed scenes even anticipate the Champion Festival’s strategy of filling time between new material with reissues of older films. (Edited versions of Ebirah and Son of Godzilla, the two features most heavily referenced in All Monsters Attack, would eventually headline the July 1972 and July 1973 festivals respectively.)

This isn’t a trick Toho could play more than once, but once you’ve stepped into the Land of (Meta)Fiction, it’s not that easy to step back out again. Although subsequent movies will return to the familiar model of telling stories about Godzilla, I think the question of who’s telling those stories will remain. I mentioned while discussing Destroy All Monsters that the concept of “Kaiju Land” felt like a toybox, and this movie’s Monster Island dreamscape only reinforces that. Bear that in mind when Monster Island reappears “for real” in Godzilla vs Gigan (1972) and Godzilla vs Megalon (1973).

The actual message of the film is a bit of a mixed bag. Ichirō is urged to stand up for himself and fight his own battles, and sure, that’s all well and good, although it fundamentally involves him punching the crap out of Gabara and biting his arm, then adopting his gang. It also involves Ichirō causing a painter’s slapstick “accident” and leaving his father to carry the can for him. He’s become more independent, but he’s also become something of a menace. It’s not uncommon for children to be portrayed as little tearaways in kaiju eiga – see especially the Gamera movies – but I’m not sure whether this is meant as a release of pressure or incitement for the child viewers in a society as famously polite and deferential as Japan’s.

On a broader scale, is it meant to needle the kids’ parents? Is this message of defending oneself through free self-expression, and potentially through aggressive direct action, intended to map onto Japanese society or even onto Japan as a player on the global stage? America had been urging Japan to stand up and fight its own battles for some time now, encouraging it to write its own constitution following their nominal withdrawal and rearm itself. Japan was understandably reluctant to do this, given America’s prior actions against them. All Monsters Attack does seem to hint that Japanese society ought to embrace change, however troubling and occasionally violent the consequences might be.

To start with, it looks like it might offer a critique of absentee parenting, an inevitable consequence of the economic impact of Japan’s post-war rebuild. Ichirō’s father says early on that he worries he’s not spending enough time with his son, and when Ichirō’s mother says in her final scene that she’ll give up working late shifts at the office, it feels like a predictable follow-on from what’s gone before. Yet Ichirō rejects that and repeats the argument his neighbour Shinpei used earlier in the film, that those extra shifts are necessary to support the family financially. He demonstrates his maturity and independence by accepting the new status quo – which the rest of the film has presented as an undesirable set of conditions that leaves Ichirō neglected, bored and in danger – in place of the older social standard we might have expected from this film, that of a stay-at-home mother raising her child. From a 21st-century perspective, we might consider this bit of scriptwriting progressive. What Ichirō doesn’t have – but Minilla does, as seen in Son of Godzilla – is a pushy parent driving him to study and take his own place on the treadmill. He does now have his own gang, though. The kids are all right, the film seems to say, but I’m not sure how sincerely it says it.

Destroy All Monsters

Destroy All Monsters (1968)
Toho Studios
Director: Honda Ishirō, Arikawa Sadamasa (special effects)


So here’s a great big celebration of Toho’s kaiju eiga to date, an indulgent jam that throws together a whole bunch of their giant monsters in a lightly plotted, high-stakes runaround with rockets and aliens. Plenty of costumed fighting, plenty of showy miniature work for the special effects team, surprisingly little reused footage (although it’s there and it’s not hard to spot).

This might seem odd because 1968 wasn’t a significant anniversary for Godzilla, or for Toho Studios; this is only the ninth Godzilla film, and I don’t think it was a milestone number for the studio overall (assuming they kept count after The Three Treasures (1959), allegedly their thousandth production). The fact is, Destroy All Monsters was meant to be the last Godzilla film (yes, again, for real this time). This was supposed to be a big send-off for the franchise at a time when television was draining away Japanese cinema audiences.

Moreover, Godzilla was now getting the same treatment as Gamera in America – Ebirah, Horror of the Deep (1966) had gone straight to television in the US, and Son of Godzilla (1967) was about to go the same way. The American dub of Invasion of Astro-Monster (1965) wouldn’t even find a distributor until 1970, although it would at least debut in cinemas. With its unprecedentedly high monster quotient, Destroy All Monsters might recapture the American market’s attention and give Toho back a foreign theatrical outlet for their tokusatsu films.

Destroy All Monsters did get a theatrical release in America, and it ended up reviving Godzilla’s fortunes, at least for a little while. For the domestic market, Toho found another way ahead and made another Godzilla movie in 1969 (of which, more in the next blog post), but this was certainly the last Godzilla movie of the Shōwa era that was expected to fend for itself in Japanese cinemas.

Most of the kaiju featured have previously appeared in other Godzilla movies, but some may need an introduction. And as ever, being killed in their debut movie is no bar to kaiju making a reappearance. Godzilla, Minilla and Kumonga were all seen as recently as Son of Godzilla, while Rodan, Mothra, Anguirus and (spoiler alert!) King Ghidorah should all have made enough of an impression on everyone’s memory. The others are new to the franchise. Gorosaurus, who looks a bit like a Tyrannosaurus Rex but with an even more disproportionately large head, first appeared in the previous year’s King Kong Escapes (1967). He’s a native of Mondo Island and was last seen re-enacting the famous 1933 “Kong vs random dinosaur” scene. Fun fact: he wasn’t named in that movie, so he’s been promoted from bit player to star cast. Manda, a long wyrm-style dragon with stumpy, barely visible legs, was the monstrous antagonist in Atragon (1963). Atragon is an anti-nationalist fable about a flying submarine with a corkscrew drill attachment on the front. (You heard me the first time.) Fun fact: “Atragon”, a portmanteau of “atomic dragon”, was originally meant to describe Manda, but because that isn’t Manda’s name it’s sometimes mistaken for the name of the flying drilling submarine (which is actually called the Gōtengō). Baragon, the quadruped with a horn and big, floppy ears, comes from Frankenstein vs Baragon (1965, a.k.a. Frankenstein Conquers the World). It seems the costume wasn’t available for Baragon’s first scripted appearance, so Gorosaurus ends up subbing in for him, but he can be seen in the film’s climactic showdown. And Varan, the eponymous star of Varan (1958) who looks like a reptilian flying squirrel, isn’t even named in this film but can be seen floating into shot in a single scene (and it’s not reused footage, either!).

So without further ado, on with the show...

And what a send-off it would have been. There’s a literal fin-de-siècle feel to this movie, set in the barely imaginable future of the end of the 20th century with its moonbase and videophones, reflected in the sheer decadent indulgence of the proceedings. The global scope is refreshing and raises the movie above the usual run of the mill, making it feel like the stakes are as high as the alien invasion plot wants them to be. Having Toho’s kaiju constantly attack Japan before may have been no more ridiculous than the antagonists in American pulp SF movies only ever attacking America, but it’s nice to go a little further afield. So far Godzilla and his pals have only ventured outside Japan to visit fictional Pacific islands or outer space (or “New Kirk City” in Mothra (1961)) – I can hardly believe it’s taken them this long to get around to France. Alas, the international scenes are far too brief.

The model work and matte shots are great all round. It's painfully obvious that there are no people in the scenes of Moscow, Paris and New York, but that’s perhaps the only blemish on what would otherwise be an excellent showcase for Toho’s post-Tsuburaya special effects department. The big monster battles towards the end certainly deliver plenty of spectacle, and the crew have managed to sidestep any wire-related problems by not using the imago Mothra and only bringing Kumonga in through reused shots, allowing them to concentrate on manipulating Ghidorah’s three heads. As obvious as that reused material is, it’s used sensibly and woven into the story quite well.

The real problem is the plot, which is perhaps the most superficial one yet in this series of movies. Some aliens want to take over humanity because they just do, they use remote controlled kaiju to devastate a few major cities in arbitrary displays of intimidation, and they all spontaneously curl up into inert metallic balls the minute their bases are overrun. The characterisation is close to non-existent – just look at the complete lack of development around the relationship between Katsuo and Kyōko. Are they lovers or siblings? The lack of obvious concern on his part while she’s under alien control and the cold violence with which he frees her from that control don’t offer much hint either way. That said, Kubo Akira (making a quick return after starring as the journalist Goro in Son of Godzilla) gives the liveliest performance of the movie as Katsuo. Tsuchiya Yoshio (also recently seen in Son of Godzilla) is wasted as Dr Otani and Tazaki Jun (most recently seen as the lead villain in Ebirah, Horror of the Deep) doesn’t fare much better as Dr Yoshida.

Perhaps the greatest wasted opportunity is the concept of “Kaiju Land”. The idea that humanity has somehow tamed all of these near-supernatural creatures – reduced them again to pest animals and handled them as such – and contained them on an island is one that needs more consideration than it gets here. There’s a brief voiceover explaining the premise right at the start, and after that we’re expected to take it as much on trust as the rest of the plot. We see Rodan fishing a dolphin out of the island’s waters, but what do the rest of the kaiju eat? There’s not that much wildlife to be had, apart from other kaiju or scientists; there’s not even a nuclear reactor to keep Godzilla perked up. Don’t they get under each other’s feet the whole time? Do they get territorial in this foreign, enforced territory? What actually are the consequences of taking them all out of their natural habitats? Who’s defending Infant Island, or indeed the entire planet, if Mothra’s been locked up here?

With hindsight, the real legacy of “Kaiju Land” is that it establishes the idea of a single “home” for Earth’s giant monsters, a toybox they can be pulled out of and go back into as the situation demands. This idea will take on greater significance in films to come, starting with the very next one.

Son of Godzilla

Son of Godzilla (1967)
Toho Studios
Director: Fukuda Jun, Arikawa Sadamasa (special effects)
Also discussed: The X from Outer Space (1967), Gappa (1967), King Kong Escapes (1967).


1966 is often cited as an annus mirabilis for tokusatsu: the three Daimajin movies, Gamera vs Barugon, The War of the Gargantuas... well, and Ebirah, Horror of the Deep, I suppose... not to mention the debut of Tsuburaya Productions’ acclaimed “Ultra” series on TV.

But 1967 is remarkable for being the year in which all the major Japanese film production companies decided to have a go. Perhaps it wasn’t the most advisable time for it, given the decline in cinema attendance, but this is the year Shochiku and Nikkatsu released their sole Shōwa-era contributions to the canon of kaiju eiga. (Toei, meanwhile, were providing animation for Rankin-Bass’ The King Kong Show (1966-67) and producing the TV series Captain Ultra (1967), by a comfortable margin the fastest knock-off of Ultraman (original series 1966-67). The TV network had actually commissioned Captain Ultra to fill Ultraman’s timeslot while Tsuburaya Productions were preparing the follow-up series, so any resemblance is surely intended.)

At the end of March, a week and a half after the release of Daiei’s Gamera vs Gyaos, Shochiku’s film The X from Outer Space debuted (Japanese title: Giant Space Monster Guilala). In this, an extraterrestrial microbe is brought to Earth where it grows into a gigantic bipedal creature that wanders around destroying cities and absorbing energy from power stations. A joint Japanese and American team of astronauts and scientists names it Guilala and races to synthesise the substance the microbe was originally encased in, in the hope that it can be used to contain Guilala and transport it back into space. Guilala has a reptilian body with frilled limbs but birdlike feet. Its head, certainly its most distinctive feature, looks like a spiky, metallic UFO with a beak and an enormous pair of deely-bopper antennae. Its rampages all seem to take place at night, presumably in an unsuccessful attempt to hide the fact that the scenes are studio-bound. The movie is most memorable for its absurd 1960s pop-rock soundtrack and for spawning a parody sequel 41 years later.

April brought Nikkatsu’s film Gappa (also known as Gappa the Triphibian Monster and, in America, Monster from a Prehistoric Planet). This film sees Japan’s fictional answer to Hugh Hefner developing a holiday resort on a Japanese island. The main attraction of the island is to be a zoo populated with exotic creatures plundered from the Pacific Islands. The businessman’s minions find one such creature, called Gappa by the human inhabitants of its island, and bring it to Japan, with the predictable consequence that its parents come to reclaim it. The Gappas, like Guilala, are visually a blend of reptile and bird, although overall they look a lot more like monstrous eagles. (Despite the similar name, apart from the beak they don’t resemble the kappa, a well-known variety of Japanese folkloric monster.) As the word “triphibian” suggests, they swim, fly and trample. The story is highly derivative, with the familiar old tropes of an innocent kaiju being exploited by an unscrupulous businessman and a community of Pacific Islanders played by blacked-up Japanese actors, but the execution is as good as anything else produced in 1967. The movie’s probably best known to British science fiction fans as the source of the “unconvincing prehistoric monster droid” clips used in “Meltdown” (1991), the fourth season finale of the comedy series Red Dwarf.

In July, Toho released King Kong Escapes, their first kaiju movie of the year and their second attempt to tie in with the Rankin-Bass/Toei animated series. It lifted several concepts directly from the series. Firstly, Kong’s home island, which still hadn’t been named on-screen as Skull Island and had been named Faro Island in King Kong vs Godzilla (1962), is referred to as Mondo Island, the name used in the cartoon. Secondly, the chief antagonist is called Dr Who, which fans of British science fiction are likely to find confusing or hilarious. In the cartoon, Dr Who is a small, bald-headed man dressed in the white tunic, gloves and goggles of a caricatured mad scientist. In King Kong Escapes, actor Amamoto Hideyo looks uncannily like he’s cosplaying William Hartnell in the first episode of Doctor Who (1963-present), suggesting someone somewhere might have got their visual reference materials mixed up. Thirdly, Dr Who controls a metallic replica of Kong, called Mechani-Kong. In the cartoon, Mechani-Kong looks a lot more like Kong and has to be piloted from a cockpit inside its head; in its first appearance, Dr Who tries to use it to discredit the real Kong, an idea we’ll see used again when Godzilla meets his own robot double a few films from now. In King Kong Escapes, Mechani-Kong is unmistakeably a robot, all silvery and either autonomous or controllable from Dr Who’s headquarters.

Dr Who plans to use Mechani-Kong to excavate a highly radioactive mineral in the Arctic on behalf of his associate Madame Piranha, who wants to turn her nation (which explicitly isn’t the US, the USSR or China) into a nuclear superpower. Even Mechani-Kong, with its thick metal hide, can’t withstand the radiation, so Dr Who resorts to his backup plan: abduct Kong and force him to do the dangerous work. This doesn’t work, nor does kidnapping and coercing Kong’s American friends. Kong escapes and swims to Japan for... reasons?... and Dr Who sends in Mechani-Kong to retrieve him, leading to a kaiju bust-up in Tokyo before the triumphant ape finally heads for home. It’s only appropriate that this movie should be simplistic and cartoonish, but it doesn’t have a lot to offer beyond that. Mechani-Kong is a lot of fun, and it’s sad that this was the robot’s only cinematic outing. Kong, meanwhile, looks as bad as he did in King Kong vs Godzilla. Even the fact that it’s directed by kaiju eiga colossus Hondo Ishirō isn’t enough to recommend this movie to anyone but completists.

And then, in December...

Invasion of Astro-Monster (1965) could easily have wrapped up the Godzilla movies, the conclusion of a loose trilogy begun in Mothra vs Godzilla (1964) and, barring the following year’s The War of the Gargantuas, a last hurrah for the directorial dream team of Honda and Tsuburaya. Then Godzilla was dropped into the script for Ebirah, Horror of the Deep and Toho decided they weren’t done with him yet. Now here we have another tale of secretive scientific research and mutated beasts on a remote Pacific island, but apparently targeted at a child audience with the inclusion of Godzilla’s own infant son.

In the context of kaiju eiga, it feels like the title and concept of Son of Godzilla are nodding back to Son of Kong (1933). There are two problems with this. Firstly, although the words “son of Godzilla” do actually appear in the original Japanese title as well as the international Anglo title, Son of Kong was renamed Revenge of Kong for the Japanese market, so the reference would be lost on the domestic audience. And secondly, Minilla has absolutely none of the appeal of Little Kong. Years before Trolls and Cabbage Patch Kids, here’s a childlike thing that looks ugly but is also supposed to be cute. (Apparently the specific Japanese term for this is “busakawa”.) His appearance is sometimes compared to that of the Pillsbury Doughboy, an advertising mascot for a baking supplies company. He certainly doesn’t look much like Godzilla. He’ll turn up again in Destroy All Monsters (1968) and be a viewpoint character in All Monsters Attack (1969), but he won’t stick in the long term. The Heisei-era Godzilla movies will present a different and (in my opinion) much better take on the concept. Although Minilla himself crops up once more after that, in Godzilla Final Wars (2004), it’s in the context of a film that throws almost every single element of Toho’s Shōwa-era output into one big nostalgic bucket.

Minilla and Godzilla aside, the new kaiju are realised entirely through puppetry. The results are more than acceptable – the fact that the Kamacuras and Kumonga are puppets allows for a more convincingly insectile shape, and the wirework is good. And the matte effects in this film are better than in many of its predecessors. The shots of human characters trying to avoid flaming, disembodied Kamacuras limbs flying through the air are particularly well done.

Actor-watch: the scientific team on Sollgel Island is a veritable Who’s Who of contemporary kaiju eiga. Habitual viewers should have no trouble spotting Takashima Tadao (the hero in King Kong vs Godzilla) as Dr Kusumi, Hirata Akihiko (Dr Serizawa in the OG) as radio operator Fujisaki, Tsuchiya Yoshio (the lead alien in Invasion of Astro-Monster) as the cranky equipment inspector Furukawa and Sahara Kenji (the villain in Mothra vs Godzilla) as the younger equipment inspector Morio. Parachuting in as the reckless journalist Goro is Kubo Akira, who played the inventor Tetsuo in Invasion of Astro-Monster.

The name “Sollgel Island” is distinctive enough that it looks like it ought to mean something, although feeding the Japanese characters into Google Translate doesn’t offer me any potential leads. The nearest thing I can find is the sol-gel process, an industrial process whereby colloidal mineral solutions are used to fabricate novel solid materials. This was at least a scientific concept at the time Son of Godzilla was produced, although the real developments postdate it. It isn’t the same thing as cloud seeding, whereby metallic iodides are dropped into clouds in the hope of causing rain to condense out of them. Still, it’s possible the island’s name was meant to tie in somehow to the theme of weather control, even if only by invoking what was then a cutting-edge field of science.

Weather control’s an interesting subject, and a popular one in science fiction. The practice of cloud seeding postdates the Second World War but was a common enough idea by the time of Son of Godzilla’s production. Starting in 1962, the American government had sponsored Project Stormfury, a lengthy study into using silver iodide to affect the behaviour of tropical cyclones. There was some press coverage in 1965 when the project was wrongly blamed for a hurricane that caused significant damage in Florida. It was eventually abandoned in the mid-80s with inconclusive results.

The US Air Force did explore the possibility of using cloud seeding as a military tactic in the Vietnam War, but this experiment (later known as Operation Popeye) didn’t start until 1967 and wasn’t revealed publicly until 1972. There’s no chance that Dr Kusumi’s concern about weaponised weather control technology was a comment on this or a way of tying Godzilla back symbolically to American militarism.

The other thematic subject to consider is parenting in Japan in the 1960s. The post-war era saw Japanese society shift, much as in other industrialised nations, towards a norm of smaller, urbanised families in which both parents were likely to be working. The mid-60s also saw the rise of gakushū juku, after-hours “cram schools” offering supplementary tuition and extra-curricular activities to shepherd children through an increasingly competitive education system and into employment. A “pushy parent” stereotype gained currency in the 1960s, but specifically around mothers, “kyōiku mama”, not fathers. Goro uses the specific phrase “kyōiku mama” to describe Godzilla in the scene in which he and Saeko watch the kaiju educating Minilla. This would imply a broader view of Godzilla’s performance of gender in the film’s original context than comes across in the available Anglo versions. (The English language subtitles to the Japanese version replace the phrase with the bland "education fanatic", while the American dub substitutes the male-gendered "his father's a real study nut!") But Godzilla does also have time to give Minilla rides on his tail, so his parenting style is perhaps a more balanced one. Once the reference is explained to her, Saeku pities the hothoused children of 1960s Japan, but Goro seems more ambivalent, possibly reflecting ambivalence on the part of scriptwriter Sekizawa Shinichi. Sekizawa will have more to say about parenting and kaiju in All Monsters Attack, and it’ll be interesting to revisit this topic then.