Goke, Body-Snatcher from Hell (1968)

Goke, Body-Snatcher from Hell (1968): written by Kyuzu Kobayashi and Susumu Takaku; directed by Hajime Sato: Fun though often somber and horrifying Japanese scifi/monster movie. 'Goke' isn't so much from Hell as it is from space, the vanguard of a supposed invasion. 

Goke, Body-Snatcher from Hell uses the always-reliable Stagecoach template here, with a limited number of characters randomly brought together by shared transportation (an airplane here, not a stagecoach, lifeboat, or spaceship). 

That airplane soon crashes thanks to Goke's flying saucer. And the survivors are soon beset by problems from within and from without, way without, as Goke has landed on their island to tease and torment them with some Dope alien powers.

The whole thing makes for an effective horror ride with out-dated but often extremely effective visual and special effects. There's more than a hint of allegory as well, with the violence and confusion of the world of 1968 portrayed through assassinations, bomb threats, corrupt politicians, corrupt arms dealers, and an American woman recently widowed by the Viet Nam War.

Goke, Body-Snatcher from Hell is rumoured to be a favourite of Quentin Tarantino. At the very least, he included a Goke-like scene in Kill Bill 1 that involved a jet flight and a lurid orange sky right out of Goke. Fun stuff. And a special award goes to the grotesque visualization of Goke entering and leaving a victim's body, along with a terrific ending. Recommended.

Mothra (1961)

Mothra (1961): adapted by Shin'ichi Sekizawa from the novel by Shin'ichiro Nakamura, Takehiko Fukunaga, and Yoshie Hotta; directed by Ishiro Honda; starringFuranki Sakai (Bulldog), Hiroshi Koizumi (Dr. Chujo), Kyoko Kagawa (Photographer), Yumi and Emi Ito (Twin Fairies), and Jerry Ito (Nelson): 

The giant Japanese monster movie for people who also enjoy musicals. Mothra only awakens when an evil, um, night-club owner absconds from Mothra Island with the two literally little, singing women who, um, are the centre of the island's normal-sized-human religious life? I don't know.

So anyway, Mothra hatches when the women are spirited away. A plucky Japanese reporter nicknamed Bulldog, his plucky camera-woman, and his plucky government pal work tirelessly to free the little women and get them back to Mothra Island. Too late. Young Mothra swims to Japan, cocoons herself, and emerges as the Mothra we all know and love.

Mothra gets to lay waste to Japan and seemingly American ''Rolisica' and its 'New Kirk City,' where the evil night-club owner takes the women. I feel like Japan is acting out some closeted aggression towards the United States here. In larval form, Mothra's special power is shooting goo at things. In adult form, her main power is generating windstorms by flapping her wings. Won't someone get those little women back to their island? Perhaps the first post-colonial Toho Studios giant-monster movie. Recommended.

Godzilla, King of the Monsters (1956)

Godzilla, King of the Monsters (1956): written by Shigeru Kayama, Takeo Murata, Ishiro Honda, and Al Ward; directed by Ishiro Honda and Terry Morse; starring Raymond Burr (Steve Martin), Takashi Shimura (Dr. Yamaane), Momoko Kochi (Emiko), Akira Takarada (Ogata), Akihiko Hirata (Dr. Serizawa), and Fuyuki Murakami (Dr. Tabata): Not the Japanese cut of Godzilla (well, Gojira) but the American version, a big hit in the States that helped fuel the giant monster boom of the 1950's and 1960's.

This version basically tells the same story as the original Japanese film, but with Raymond Burr interpolated into the movie as narrator and lone Caucasian (well, his editor gets a brief appearance too). Burr plays Steve Martin (!!!!), an American journalist on vacation in Japan when Gojira...errr....Godzilla emerges from the sea to wreak havoc.

Steve Martin is the only American journalist in Japan at this time, or at least it sure seems so. And what a great job he does! In the daring tradition of frontline reporters, he's pretty much everywhere Godzilla strikes, albeit never in the same shot.

He's also friends with all the major characters of the original cut. We know because they spend a lot of time talking to him, but only in the same shot when they're photographed from behind.

Anyway, I can't say as the frame story improves the movie. The characterization of the Japanese characters gets whittled down to almost nothing because STEVE MARTIN must tell us what's going on. If only they could have tricked Godzilla into putting on.... THE CRUEL SHOES.

The sequences showing the destruction of cities, people, and trains still hold a curious and elemental power. The original movie-makers weren't squeamish about showing people engulfed in flame, or doomed mothers and children about to be crushed, burned, or boiled to death. 

The 'Godzilla Attacks' theme is one helluva piece of music, too. I wish the whole movie were scored to that unnerving, propulsive, jittery string-based symphony of destruction and dread! Thank you, composer Akira Ifukube!

It is interesting to evaluate the two major English-language cuts of Godzilla/Gojira together. The non-Burr version is better, scarier, and sadder. Still, reporter Steve Martin has a lot of gumption! And this American version is remarkably free of racism -- what we are presented with are simply Japanese citizens faced with an immeasurable horror. Recommended.

Flight 7500 (2014)

Flight 7500 (2014): written by Craig Rosenberg; directed by Takashi Simizu; starring Ryan Kwanten (Brad Martin), Amy Smart (Pia Martin), Leslie Bibb (Laura Baxter), Jamie Chung (Suzy Lee), Scout Taylor-Compton (Jacinta Bloch), Rick Kelly (Lance Morrell), and Johnathon Schaech (Captain Haining): Writer Craig Rosenberg seems to have some familiarity with written horror, as at least three characters (Bloch, Haining, and Morrell) share last names with prominent figures in horror and suspense fiction. Director Simizu is a major figure in Japanese film horror. 

The result for this straight-to-DVD horror movie set entirely on an airplane en route from Tokyo to California isn't stunning, but it does provide a certain number of non-gory chills. The final twist, while familiar, is cleverly deployed. The actors are all competent in their roles, and slightly better known than normal for this sort of movie, at least when it comes to Leslie Bibb, Amy Smart, and Johnathon Schaech. A nod to the classic Twilight Zone episode "Nightmare at 20,000 Feet" is gratifying. Recommended.

Gojira (1954)

Gojira (1954): written by Takeo Murata, Ishiro Honda, and Shigeru Kayama; directed by Ishiro Honda; starring Akira Takarada (Ogata), Momoko Kochi (Emiko), and Akihiko Hirata (Serizawa): Gojira/Godzilla is a colossal prick in this American release of the Japanese original. There's no Raymond Burr here to explain things, as he was added to the mass release/re-edit of Gojira known as Godzilla, King of the Monsters (1956). Instead, we get what is often a traditional horror movie, occasionally an intermittently shocking disaster movie. 

There's also a love story, some commentary on atomic bombs and atomic testing, a doomsday weapon called The Oxygen Destroyer (what a band name that would be!), and a lengthy prayer/song sequence. Gojira is all monster here. It's sometimes forgotten that Gojira is naturally 150 feet tall, though the atomic tests that awoke him probably gave him that deadly radioactive fire breath. 

Some effects don't work at all, most notably a sequence in which jet fighters engage Gojira with some hilariously inaccurate firecrackers meant to be missiles. Other effects still work, though, especially those involving the devastation of Tokyo and the pitiful fates of those caught on the ground by this new God of the Atomic Age. Where are the heroic Mothra larvae when you need them? Recommended.

The Ghost of Yotsuya (Tôkaidô Yotsuya kaidan) (1959)

The Ghost of Yotsuya (Tôkaidô Yotsuya kaidan) (1959): written by Masayoshi Onuki, Yoshihiro Ishikawa, and Nanboku Tsuruya; directed by Nobuo Nakagawa; starring Shigeru Amachi (Iemon), Noriko Kitazawa (Sode), Katsuko Wakasugi (Iwa), and Shuntaro Emi (Naosuke): Apparently based on a Japanese folk tale, Tôkaidô Yotsuya kaidan starts slowly, almost infuriatingly so, before moving in its second half into an inspired, creepy, occasionally amusing piece of spectral revenge. 

Along the way, you'll ask yourself such important cross-cultural questions as 'Why did he think it was a good idea to nail dead bodies to wooden shutters before throwing them in the river?' and 'Why does the deadly poison also make someone hideously ugly along the way?'. It's a very satisfying, somewhat oddball horror story, strangely affecting as it lingers in the memory. Recommended.

Wasted Lives

Onward Towards Our Noble Deaths: written and illustrated by Shigeru Mizuki, translated by Jocelyne Allen (1973/English edition 2011): A seminal Japanese manga in terms of dealing with World War Two and Japan's role in it, Onward Towards Our Noble Deaths is certainly one of the most depressing, emotionally draining graphic novels I've ever read. It marked something of a departure for its creator, Shigeru Mizuki, who previously had been best known for much more fantastic, whimsical manga work.

Mizuki does one of those things I tend to associate most with manga, in that he juxtaposes cartoony humans in the foreground with backgrounds that are often clearly copied from photographic material. This methodology can obviously have an awful lot of meanings. Here, it tends to highlight the transitory state of any human being when set against nature itself, and the world in its sublime giganticism. At points, though, photorealistic depictions of the dead whom we'd previously seen only as cartoons hammer home their basic, shattered humanity.

The book follows the horrifying adventures of Japanese soldiers trying to defend one of the islands in what is now Papua New Guinea from an invasion by the Allies during the waning days of World War Two. Mizuki himself survived such a scenario, and draws on his experiences and others for this bleakly comic look at the horrors of war, and the horrors of being an enlisted man in the Japanese Imperial Army.

If you thought your war was bad, keep in mind that suicide attacks were considered a terrific idea by many of the officers in the Japanese army. So, too, were regular beatings and absurd orders. Part of the plot hinges on a Catch-22 that makes most Western military Catch-22's look positively benign. A pointless suicide charge has been reported as complete, with all men nobly lost, to the island's central Japanese command.

But in reality, several dozen men didn't die in the assault for a variety of reasons. But their deaths have been reported. In order to save face at the command level, they have to die one way or another. The two surviving officers in charge of the group are expected to commit ritual suicide. The rest, including the grieviously wounded, must march back into enemy fire that they have no chance of surviving.

Good times!

This is a harrowing book, spiced with moments of humaneness and humanity, spiked with horrific, sometimes oddly funny moments of trauma and death. The translation could have used a defter hand at points. Anachronisms like "Meh." appear throughout, and there's no poetic ability shown in the recurring translations of popular Japanese songs that the soldiers occasionally sing. But the power and pathos of the narrative survive this, as does the deceivingly simple cartooning. But be warned: there is no catharsis here. There is ultimately no point to the deaths, no redemption. Highly recommended.

Fox Hunt

Sandman: The Dream Hunters: written by Neil Gaiman; illustrated by Yoshitaka Amano (1999): For the tenth anniversary of the first issue of his critically and commercially gigantic Sandman comic-book series (which ended its run in 1995), writer Neil Gaiman wrote a novella set in the Sandman universe and illustrated by acclaimed Japanese artist Yoshitaka Amano. It's not a comic book, but rather an illustrated story, as Amano wasn't comfortable trying to draw a comic book.

We see several familiar characters again, chief among them Morpheus, also known as Dream, one of the seven Endless in Gaiman's comic book (the others being, circa 1989, Destiny, Death, Desire, Despair, Destruction, and Delirium, the last once having been Delight before something changed).

Set in medieval Japan, The Dream Hunters ostensibly retells a Japanese folk tale. Gaiman's afterword in which he somewhat puckishly and straight-facedly describes this (imaginary) folk tale led a lot of people to believe there really was a folk tale to begin with. There wasn't. That thinly veiled versions of DC Comics' Cain and Abel make an appearance, along with the Dream King's raven, possibly should have tipped people off.

The story begins with a bet between a fox and a badger about who can force a young Monk to abandon his lonely mountain-side shrine so that either the fox or the badger can live there. As foxes and badgers have considerable abilities in the realms of shape-changing and illusion, this is a bet it seems one or the other must win. But things don't go the way either plans.

It's a very enjoyable story, and Amano's illustrations offer a new look at Gaiman's Lord of Dreams and his kingdom. I do think that Gaiman is a better comic-book writer than a writer of prose, however, and P. Craig Russell's comic-book adaptation of this novella, from 2009, is superior to this work. In either case, one doesn't have to know the backstory of Sandman to enjoy the book. Recommended.

Land of Dreams

Sandman: The Dream Hunters: adapted by P. Craig Russell from a novella by Neil Gaiman and Yoshiaka Amano (2009): Writer-artist Russell adapted Neil Gaiman's illustrated 1999 Sandman novella into comic-book form to help celebrate the 20th anniversary of the first issue of Gaiman's hyper-popular Sandman series. The novella itself was released to celebrate the 10th anniversary of Sandman. What will the 30th anniversary bring?

Told as if it were an old Japanese folk story (it isn't, though Gaiman's afterword to the 1999 novella convinced a lot of people, including Russell, that it was), The Dream Hunters chronicles the adventures of a female fox, a young monk, and a magician searching for a cure for his chronic fear. It's set in a legendary Japan of animal spirits, demons, and witches. The Sandman himself -- Dream, or Morpheus -- plays a supporting role, as he periodically did in his own comic-book series. The narrative focus is squarely upon the fox and the monk.

Russell's art is pleasingly legendary in its own way, as sometimes cartoony and sometimes nightmarish demons rub shoulders with realistically rendered humans, a slightly anthropomorphic fox, and some truly horrible witches. Or are they oracles? Russell's faces are always expressive, that expressiveness the product of just a few lines properly placed.

The colouring by Lovern Kindzierski apparently tries to replicate the palette available to Japanese print-makers of a certain era. It's a lovely, muted wash of pastels and faded primary colours. Much of the wording remains Gaiman's, but Russell has done a fine job of selecting what to keep in language and what to render as art. All in all, this is a marvelous addition to the Sandman library, and worth owning whether or not one already has the novella. Highly recommended.