mechagodzilla

Au Revoir, Godzilla, Mon Amour

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It’s been three years since Criterion’s towering box set of Shōwa era Godzilla films arrived on my doorstep, and I’ve been madly in love ever since. Anytime I’m unsure what movie to watch, I’ll toss on a Godzilla disc to pass the time, the same way an old Beatles record is always there for me whenever I’m indecisive on what to listen to. It’s been lovely, but all affairs eventually run their course, and I’ve officially run out of new-to-me Godzilla movies to watch in that 15-film set. I recently ran through my last two remaining Godzilla titles in rapid succession—1972’s Godzilla vs. Gigan and 1975’s Terror of Mechagodzilla—and found that the romantic spark was still very much alive. Together, they reminded me of two entirely different reasons why I first fell in love with my giant lizard friend, and why it’s so sad I’ll now only be able to revisit that loving feeling in nostalgic rewatches instead of experiencing the seductive rush of a brand-new romance. Of course, the Criterion box set only accounts for half of Godzilla’s ginormous cinematic footprint, and there’s plenty other movies left out there to discover, but I’m still granting myself a little space here to mourn the end of my relationship with the atomic monster’s original run from the 1950s to the 1970s.

By the time Godzilla faced off against Gigan in the early 1970s, he had already fully transformed from harrowing nuclear fallout metaphor to superhero protector of children everywhere. Much of the back half of Godzilla’s Shōwa era finds the skyscraper kaiju beast mugging for the kids in the cheap seats while performing pro wrestling moves on his fellow rubber-suited monsters. In the case of Godzilla vs. Gigan, that means facing off against an especially goofy looking combatant: a cycloptic mechachicken with a whirring buzzsaw in its belly, the creature-design equivalent of when Homer Simpson designed his ideal car. There’s nothing especially novel about the film’s plot, which is yet another alien-invasion story among many in the set, with recycled footage from previous monster attacks and recycled grumblings about how pollution has turned Earth into “a toxic world, a radioactive wasteland.” Still, though, the latter kiddie-fluff Godzilla pics can often surprise you with a novelty in style, in this case a comic book-inspired sensibility that makes the formula feel fresh again. The monster attacks are centered around an amusement park that features a Godzilla-shaped observation tower, and the alien invasion plot (involving cockroach humanoids from another planet) is uncovered by a manga artist who exclusively pitches kid-friendly monster designs like “The Homework Monster” and “The Strict Mom Monster”. That’s not to say that the kaiju action can’t get brutally violent; the climactic fight between Godzilla & Gigan is staged in an exploding oil refinery field and feels like a vision of Hell, leaving Godzilla visibly bleeding onscreen for the first time in the franchise. It’s just that the pronounced comic book sensibility leads to its biggest surprises in terms of novelty. When Godzilla starts chatting to his giant pet armadillo Anguirus in comic-panel speech bubbles, it feels like there are still endless possibilities for what this series can do, despite this entry relying so heavily on pre-existing images the audience has already seen before.

As much fun as the alien cockroaches and comic book speech bubbles of Godzilla vs. Gigan can be, I’m glad that the series toned down its kid-friendly hijinks for its final entry (before the monster’s return in the 80-90s Heisei era), Terror vs. Mechagodzilla. Original Godzilla director Ishirō Honda returned to conclude the Shōwa era on a serious note, keeping all of the space alien invaders and remote-controlled kaiju puppets that had crept into the go-to formula over the years but deciding to play them straight instead of goofy. The opening credits play out over a “Previously on . . .” recap of Godzilla’s first tussle with his “space-titanium” doppelganger Mechagodzilla, then the humans-on-the-ground plot introduces a new combatant to the ring in the underwater dinosaur creature Titanosaurus. Earth is once again characterized as a “polluted & chaotic” nuclear wasteland primed for takeover from mad scientists & alien invaders, but those stock villains’ lives are given more room to develop dramatic tension in this go-round. When the human hero holds the mad scientist’s robot daughter’s dying body in his arms and declares, “You may be a cyborg, but I still love you,” the emotions of the moment actually mean something, against all odds. Ishirō Honda seemed stubbornly determined to reclaim the Godzilla series as more than just kiddie stuff here, aging up the onscreen action with more Godzilla blood in the kaiju battles and cyborg nudity in the sci-fi machinations of the humans-on-the-ground subplot. He even manages to make the recycling of previous Godzilla films’ footage surprisingly elegant, playing highlights from previous monster attacks back in a 4-way splitscreen layout. Honda’s sincerity continually made for Godzilla’s most compelling non-kaiju drama in the monster’s original run, to the point where you forget he also directed a couple of the monster’s silliest, flimsiest outings (namely King Kong vs. Godzilla and All Monsters Attack). The Shōwa era started with Honda’s national heartbreaker Godzilla (1954), and it ended with the director reasserting that the increasingly goofy series still has a beating heart at its core.

Godzilla vs. Gigan was stunt actor Haruo Nakajima’s twelfth & final outing playing Godzilla onscreen, and Terror of Mechagodzilla was Ishirō Honda’s ninth & final Godzilla film as director. Together, they rounded out my personal years-long romance with the 8-disc, 15-film Criterion box set, which only helped underline the finality of Nakajima & Honda’s contributions to the series. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with classic, first-run Godzilla, to the point where I’m questioning whether I was ever properly critical or analytical about any individual entries in the series. When a Godzilla movie isn’t especially great, I’m still always grateful to spend more time with my good friend Godzilla, even having written lengthy apologia about his off-brand American outings. So, when you catch me saying glowing things about Adam Wingard’s King Kong crossovers, Criterion’s new restoration of Godzilla vs. Biollante, or the upcoming Reiwa era update Godzilla Minus Zero, please know that I am grading on a curve because I have nothing but love for Godzilla in my heart. Still, I feel compelled to recap my time spent with the Shōwa era box set by ranking the included films and linking to our reviews across a half-decade of website posts, despite the fact that I love them all and I’m sad to realize that our time together is over.

  1. Godzilla (1954)
  2. Godzilla vs. Hedorah (1971)
  3. Mothra vs. Godzilla (1964)
  4. Destroy All Monsters (1966)
  5. Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster (1964)
  6. Terror of Mechagodzilla (1975)
  7. King Kong vs. Godzilla (1962)
  8. Ebirah, Horror of the Deep (1966)
  9. Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla (1974)
  10. Invasion of the Astro-Monster (1965)
  11. Godzilla vs. Gigan (1972)
  12. Son of Godzilla (1967)
  13. Godzilla vs. Megalon (1973)
  14. All Monsters Attack (1969)
  15. Godzilla Raids Again (1955)

-Brandon Ledet

Godzilla vs Mechagodzilla (1974)

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I was initially careful not to divulge too many third-act details when reviewing Godzilla vs Kong, but it’s been an entire year since it first premiered so I don’t mind spoiling it now.  The only reason Adam Wingard’s kaiju smash-em-up is the best American Godzilla film to date is that the monster fights promised in its title felt exceptionally tactile & novel for a modern CG blockbuster.  And what really launched those fights over the top was the WrestleMania-style surprise entrance of Godzilla’s mechanized doppelgänger Mechagodzilla in the third act, injecting an excessive rush of adrenaline into a movie was already plenty entertaining before the bionic monster’s arrival.  The delight of that last-minute surprise really leaves audiences on a fist-pumping high, forgiving all the mundane humans-on-the-ground storytelling it takes to get there.

Looking back at the delightful surprise of Mechagodzilla’s most recent onscreen appearance, I can’t help but wonder if the robo-monster should always be presented as a last-minute swerve.  At the very least, I can say for certain that its first franchise appearance in 1974’s Godzilla vs Mechagodzilla would’ve been greatly improved if its existence weren’t teased in the title & poster.  There’s a brief, glorious moment in the film when Godzilla is being framed for mayhem he didn’t commit by the mechanized imposter, frustrated that other kaiju and the citizens below believe he has turned heel.  The film could have been an all-time classic if that conflict was allowed to drive the plot, delaying the reveal of the “space titanium” under the faux-Godzilla’s “skin” as late in the runtime as possible instead of immediately degloving it.  Basically, I wish Mechagodzilla was the Gene Parmesan of the series.

There is plenty of novelty to be found elsewhere in Godzilla vs Mechagodzilla without that surprise reveal.  While Mechagodzilla is almost always a manmade weapon in subsequent films (including in Godzilla vs Kong), it arrives on Earth as space alien tech in its first appearance.  The sub-James Bond espionage antics that thwart that alien plot can be a little dull (an unfortunate holdover from the previous entry in the franchise, Godzilla vs Megalon).  The aliens themselves are amusing knockoffs of the Planet of the Apes creature designs, though, which adds a post-modern mash-up quality to the premise.  The film also doesn’t entirely rely on the novelty of Mechagodzilla to freshen up its monster roster.  It also features appearances from Anguirus (a spiky armadillo) and King Caesar (a personified Shisa statue) in its Royal Rumble rollout of surprise combatants.  It’s a fun picture as is, even if it had much greater potential as a kaiju whodunnit.

To be fair, I’m not sure Godzilla vs Mechagodzilla needed to be especially novel to be worthwhile, considering that it was already arriving fourteen films deep into the Godzilla canon.  Fifty years and twenty-two Godzilla movies later, there have been plenty of boring, uninspired kaiju duds with way less to offer than this standard-issue monster flick.  At the very least, it attempts to establish its own playful sense of style between the kaiju battles in its cave-painting illustrations, Brady Bunch news-report grids, and double-exposure shots of religious prophecies.  It’s no Godzilla vs Hedorah in that respect, but few movies are.  Most importantly, Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla gets by on the exact same merits that made Godzilla vs Kong such a delight: the inherent entertainment value of its pro-wrestling style kaiju fights (which are often shockingly bloody in this case, imagery that was often softened in its American edits).  I just can’t help but wish that it also held back Mechagodzilla for as long as possible in the same way Godzilla vs Kong did, though. It could have been an all-timer instead of just another good’n.

-Brandon Ledet