Godzilla, Mothra and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack

Godzilla, Mothra and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack (2001)
Toho Studios
Director: Kaneko Shūsuke, Kamiya Makoto (special effects)
Also known as: GMK, which has been widely adopted for brevity’s sake.


Still looking for that elusive spark that would reignite the fortunes of the Godzilla franchise, Toho turned to director Kaneko Shūsuke. This was a dream assignment for Kaneko – he’d expressed an interest in directing a Godzilla movie in the early 90s and been rebuffed. He’d then gone on to direct the Heisei era Gamera trilogy for Daiei and kicked arse. He even got to co-write the third one, and he’d get the chance to co-author GMK too. Toho had distributed the Gamera trilogy through their cinemas and presumably couldn’t help but notice their success. Could Kaneko do for them what he’d done for Daiei?

At first sight, this might look like a reimagining of classic daikaiju to rival anything that happened in the Heisei series. King Ghidorah not evil? Mothra without the singing fairies? But that came about by accident rather than by design. Kaneko’s original plan was to pit Godzilla against three forgotten monsters of the Shōwa era: Baragon, Varan (who featured in an eponymous film in 1958 and made an unnamed cameo appearance in a Godzilla movie in 1968) and Anguirus (last seen in 1974). Toho’s response to this first proposal was to ask for the more popular Mothra and King Ghidorah to be included instead. Kaneko and his co-writers made little to no effort to accommodate this change beyond renaming the kaiju.

But I’m damned if I know which kaiju subbed in for which. As a lake monster who also flies, Varan looks like a match for Mothra, but then the big final showdown involves a flying kaiju and happens in the water in Tokyo Bay, so maybe he was replaced by Ghidorah. Anguirus, by contrast, looks underqualified for either role.

What did stick was the idea to switch Godzilla from being a mutated victim/avatar of American nuclear weapons tests to being the nightmare embodiment of the vengeance of everyone who suffered during the Pacific War. (That term, incidentally, is frequently taken simply to mean the Pacific wing of World War II, but could potentially encompass the Second Sino-Japanese War which started in 1937.) The scene in which Admiral Tachibana asks his daughter why the souls of dead Japanese soldiers who fought for their country would want to attack it, and she observes that many other Asians and Americans died in the war too, saves this from coming across as a nationalist aggrandisement of the military dead. Godzilla’s wrath isn’t the frustrated, reactionary grumping of old imperialists but a broader stand-in for “the sins of the past”, something a bit more in line with the indiscriminate curses of contemporary J-Horror films and with Kaneko’s horror-inflected take on the Gamera mythos.

Recasting other monsters of the atomic age as ancient, mystical guardian spirits of Japan is a bold choice, though. Perhaps there is a hint of a less aggressive kind of nationalism in there, a suggestion that it might be in modern Japan’s interests to reconnect with older parts of its culture. Then again, it’s only one step away from what Kaneko did with Gamera, turning him and Gyaos into genetically engineered weapons of ancient Atlantis. Perhaps, if Kaneko had been given the chance to make a sequel to GMK, he would have taken Toho’s daikaiju further into the realms of BS Digital Q’s National Enquirer-esque fantasies.

There’s a certain curmudgeonly flavour to the way GMK handles its unnamed characters. Delinquent youths are responsible for disturbing two of the guardian monsters and get a swift comeuppance. This seems a little undeserved given that, as it turns out, it’s a good thing those monsters were released and if those kids hadn’t desecrated those roadside shrines, that mysterious old man certainly would have. Kaneko, who was still in his 40s at this time, was by his own admission a grumpy old man at heart.

As for the little vignettes of people who are about to be killed by Godzilla, these were apparently meant to humanise his victims, in lieu of the usual scenes of anonymous crowds. But they more often come across as comical, either as mean-spirited jokes (the man at a urinal on the island where Godzilla makes his first landfall, the woman in a hospital in Shizuoka) or as punishment for the characters’ stupidity (the tourists who pose for holiday snaps in front of an oncoming daikaiju at Hakone).

On the subject of mean jokes, GMK features the Millennium series’ first explicit, undeniable, no-interpretation-required dig at Godzilla (1998). In the opening scene, Admiral Tachibana specifically mentions a recent monster attack in New York as a reason for the JSDF to stay alert. Two members of his audience whisper to each other about this. Wasn’t that Godzilla, asks one. That’s what they say in America, replies the other, but the Japanese don’t think so.

As far as the major characters go, Yuri feels like a suitably rounded protagonist and Admiral Tachibana, the main military figure, is humanised by the scenes of him at home with his daughter and reminiscing about his childhood in 1954. The rest are filled in with quite broad strokes and there’s not a lot of depth to them. Even Tachibana’s childhood trauma is dropped in front of us but never really followed up on. For an ostensibly moody film, GMK actually doesn’t waste that much time on mood or on human drama, focusing instead on knockabout action. I don’t know what to make of the final, cheesy twist – that old campfire tale standard, “but he died nearly 50 years ago!”

There are a couple of familiar faces among the cast. Hotaru Yukijirō, clearly a favourite of the director, having played the comedy cop Osako in the Gamera trilogy, cameos as the suicidal businessman who discovers Ghidorah’s lair. The mysterious old man who tries to warn everyone about Godzilla’s return is played by Amamoto Hideyo, a stalwart of the Shōwa era. He was Dr Who (not that one) in King Kong Escapes (1967) and the friendly neighbour Shinpei in All Monsters Attack (1969). Yuri’s editor at BS Digital Q is played by someone we’ve seen quite recently, Sano Shirō, who was the government scientist Miyasaka (with much shorter hair) in Godzilla 2000: Millennium (1999).

On the whole, GMK is a very good-looking film. (Well, except for Baragon. Baragon looks like the kind of thing that was parodied in the opening scenes of Shin Ultraman (2022).) There’s a shot up from ground level of Godzilla coming ashore, with a fishing boat dropping from his shoulder, that truly makes this giant nightmare version of the character look impressive. In its story and its characters, I think it’s weaker, but it has enough momentum to stop you noticing that until after you’ve watched it. It was the most successful of the Millennium series Godzilla movies by a clear margin and it’s well liked by the fan community. It just doesn’t quite tick all the boxes for me.

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