They Came From Shochiku: The X From Outer Space (aka Uchu Daikaiju Guirara, 1967)

Always fun to consider just how dominant TOHO studios was throughout the 1950s-the 1960s, while others did their part to have a slice of the tokusatsu/genre cinema pie. All it took, really was one giant behemoth of a lizard to send audiences into a frenzy, and the competition naturally and steadily mapped out quick ways of stealing a little of that fire. And even if those attempts weren't nearly as successful, at least they weren't in the company of the late-blooming Shochiku, who's over decade-late foray into sci-fi/horror remains something of a head scratcher. Largely important in what became known as the Japanese New Wave, the studio seemed parched for some of that profitable elixir that TOHO and DAIEI were drinking, so perhaps a little dip into more family-friendly fantasy films seemed natural. Whatever the case, Kazui Nihonmatsu's Guirara is something of a baffling curiosity, and much less an enthused entry into an already crowded genre that was quickly becoming campy kids fare.


Dispatched toward Mars after receiving bizarre signals, the international space vessel AAB Gamma encounters a shifty UFO. Helmed by a largely Japanese male team, led by Captain Sano (Toshiya Wazaki), the mission is to close in on the erratic craft. Upon closer inspection the alien ship emits a gooey plasm that sticks directly onto the AAB, which is inevitably brought back to Earth, harboring with it a spore that will grow to become quite a nuisance to the AAB crew, and the rest of Japan. Ultimately it is up to Sano, his crew (including the egregiously devoted, Lisa, played to bland perfection by American, Patricia Neal), and the powers that be to repel the advance of space monster Guilala before he really makes a mess. All the while, the soundtrack informs us either to bop happily to jazz, singing the praises of space, or cowering in monotone fear. That's right..to the tune of TWO songs.


So, when considering the overall feel and rhythm of a space age monster movie in the 1960s, languid is not the first word that comes to mind-BUT. Suffering from a pacing that seems an ill-fit for such a genre in this era, Guilala never seems to find itself off the ground. From the launch, the investigation, and the love subplot involving our lead's unrequited love on a moonbase, nearly everything is either treated like a vacation or an afterthought. Adding greater salt to this particular wound are some of the more obvious cases of botched shots ever witnessed on a supposedly big studio film, and some truly lethargic performances. (Kind of hurts to witness Eiji Okada of Hiroshima, Mon Amour & Woman In The Dunes shambling along here.) It is until the stunted, overlong finale that the film seems to exhibit signs of life, and only then does it sink in just how indifferent the film as a whole really is.


This unfortunate series of events is only made moreso by the appearance of said monster, which is perhaps one of the most ill-conceived ever put on celluloid this side of parody. Once on Earth and on the rampage, one cannot help but feel sorry. Not for the people of civilization, not for the mobilized military machine that is on the receiving end, not for the much needed buildings, roads, bridges, etc. But feeling bad for the poor soul, tasked with bringing this shambling bother to life. That's right. Guilala as a stomping mad monster is a creation of unbelievably sub par proportion. From his poofy, old-school rumba singer arms, to his often painful gait, to the even sadder mashup of a shuriken-shaped head(this creature sports not one, but THREE distinguishing additions to its head from bug eyes, a snork-like protrusion, and antenna), this is a kaiju product of either too many cooks in the development kitchen, or the rough designs of a crew member's child. Tasked with the film, this is perhaps a rookie effort for a nascent crew taking on what Eiji Tsuburaya had mastered by this point. Even if one attempted to declare a certain cuteness in regards to all in display here, it is often because of how new this seems to all involved. Aside from some of the space effects(let us not start discussing the diminished gravity scenes here), a lot of this work is decent at best.


One might go ahead and consider this review to be a completely negative one, and one might be right. But the film ultimately shines as a healthy reminder of what makes kaiju films of this era most fun, and not as worthy of derision as so many critics shared at the time. Even at some of their worst, the films of Honda, Fukuda, and others carried with them an enthusiasm that went a long way. It's something that genre cinema has long struggled with - keeping a sense of fun, while offering up new reasons to watch men in suits roll around on giant dioramas. While Guilala definitely deserved a long belated shellacking with a 2008 send-up, one can also look to this destructive space spore as a lesson in what to respect in regards to the kaiju film. Imitation is far from enough. And a comfort with the absolute ridiculous is required. 

Thematic Wanderings : Pacific Rim

Mind is aglow with thoughts of Del Toro's Pacific Rim this week. And even though I may not have spent much time on these pages singing praises of the premise, and its pedigree, I can earnestly say that the film is among the core reasons why this site exists.

And even though much of the film treats itself like a wafer thin tribute to all things anime and tokusatsu, there was just enough symbolic meat to this particular bone that grants the film an optimistic edge that is sorely lacking in current blockbusters.

As mentioned in the review I posted to Anime Diet, the film centers on the value of unfettered human connection, and this is made explicit by way of the story's most challenging concept: "The Drift". The means by which our protagonists are capable of psychically linking themselves to their Jaeger mecha. And also, this cannot happen without a partner, so all Jaegers (with the unique exception of China's Crimson Typhoon which carries three pilots) require a well-synced duo to enhance the mammoth machine's fighting ability. In the process of The Drift, the minds of our two central pilot characters must intermingle, sharing everything from memories and feelings in a process of what is lovingly called a "neural handshake". And while this is on many levels more a concept at home in hard science fiction of the past, and even in anime, this is the kind of idea that must have been a pretty hard sell to the studio heads. And what most likely helps undo this fear, is a consistency of this idea carried over onto multiple planes in the script. Between the pair who inevitably conjoin to form the new Team Gispy Danger, pilots Raleigh Becket, and Mako Mori form an unlikely alliance that is the emotional backbone of the entire story. And this is also examined in the various quirky meetings that are sprinkled throughout.

"This is a dialogue..Not a fight."

Upon their initial meeting, Becket merely sees Mori as a bright would-be pilot with a number of simulation kills under her belt, but when she more than proves her mettle during replacement co-pilot trials, it becomes clear that she has overwhelming potential. Even so, the path to their destinies are blocked by not only the protests of a concerned guardian, they are also tested by Mori's lack of experience in Drift. This is illustrated beautifully in a sequence where Mori finds herself trapped in her own memories in what the program calls "chasing the rabbit", also known as RBBT. A trancelike rigor where the pilot find themselves unable to function as their brain is trapped in a significant memory. Not unlike losing a tether out at sea. It is within this sequence that Becket finds himself inside her childhood trauma in hopes of recovering his would-be partner. With such sync misaligned, matters are made worse as both minds must identify perfectly in order for any of this to work. It's a visually and sonically fascinating shorthand for the barriers that can often thwart the early stages of any relationship, be it personal or professional. Sharing in the moment seems to be the prime goal in the script, and this sequence of events is played with just enough sensitivity, and a respect for the urgency of the situation that it largely works.  


Connections: Father and Son, Brother and brother, culture to culture, generation to generation, axiom to axiom (Alan Turing and a modern "rock star" wannabe genius ala Steve Jobs?), connection is the central component to the entire script. It is even expressed in a larger sense by way of duality, represented largely by the nature of twos within our own bodies. Cerebral hemispheres, arms, and even shoes are illustrated as examples of this as if to imply that there is a more organic drive that is behind something our technology tends to obfuscate. Like anything else in the developing world, there are enablers, but the will to express is central to the user. As much as the Jaegers are an extension of our will to overcome nature, it is in us that we make strides, or slide backward.

There is even a large push in the film toward the loss of arms within the Jaegers during battle, as if there will always be situations where a binary choice cannot always be enough to overcome a situation. Even as a major character deduces a course of action as possibly "incredibly stupid", there is an almost blind faith in improvised action that the film seems eager to make into a point. Unlike your classic anime mecha, human movement is essential to proper Jaeger use, and Del Toro goes out of his way to make this clear. What the pilots do within their sync, the Jaeger will do. And it isn't simply a joystick, or panels that take care of everything. These machines are pretty much oversized suits that require an impressive amount of concentration and physical ability.


And let's not forget about the reason behind all this need for the film to emphasize connection. This is the easiest part.

"Category 3 Kaiju" - Followed by the possibility of Categories 4 & 5? And the explanation for the kaiju attacks, and their role in the general global scheme? This is where the film is as clear as day. Suddenly, the primary theme carries with it ecological concerns. A kaiju eiga tradition.

Although I am a little curious as to the film's finale, and the implications of the kind of weapon that is humanity's last option. While it can also be seen as tribute, it does send some slightly odd messages.

That said, so much of Pacific Rim is pretty straightforward. Ripped almost perfectly from years of many of my favorite things sprinkled with a dash of welcome pluralism, it is a movie event not to be missed.