'Shin Godzilla' in 4K

I'm sure just looking at an advertisement for Toho Cinemas' Mega Popcorn would still give Hirona Yamazaki indigestion. Photo by Brett Homenick.

TIRED: What is a king to a god?

WIRED: What is a god to a mid-level bureaucrat?

With the recent re-release of Shin Godzilla (2016) in 4K in the U.S., I thought I might as well revisit the movie I once considered the worst of the entire series (that is, until even worse ones came along). Prior to this screening, I'd only seen the flick once, and that was on opening day in July 2016. Nine years later, would my opinion change?

I'm afraid not. During my initial viewing, I found the movie mostly aggravating and annoying. This time, I found it boring. The movie held my attention for the first 30 minutes or so, and then the endless chatting finally started to wear me out. Just before becoming bored to distraction around the one-hour mark, my mind, for reasons I cannot explain, suddenly wandered to this quote from Heat (1995): 

Overall, the thing that surprised me most was just how bad some of the CG was, especially for objects in motion. Since Godzilla is mostly static, even when he's attacking the city, the computer graphics fare much better, but I knew I was in trouble when the VFX for the tunnel collapse a few minutes in looked like they were leftovers from the '90s.

Even if the CG were up to par, though, it still wouldn't make the proceedings any less preposterous. The movie makes it clear right out of the gate that the old guard in charge of the government are a bunch of bumbling old fools who are out of their depth. In contrast, the younger generation, with less power and experience, are the ones who solve all the problems and ultimately save the day.

This outcome, of course, is telegraphed in broad strokes in the first few minutes of the movie, so the audience is left to wait for the special committee of youthful nerds, outcasts, and true believers to devise the solutions that the geezers in power lack the fortitude, or the will, to do.

The fogie politicians are mostly hapless stereotypes, not actual human beings, who can't help but make a mess of everything they touch. The youngsters, on the other hand, are obnoxiously earnest, making few, if any, mistakes as the story unfolds, and they accurately predict outcomes and problem-solve novel issues in ways so ingenious and flawless that it'd make Criswell suspect fraud.

A lot of the discourse on this movie hinges on whether the story, and its portrayal of the Japanese government, is "nationalistic." I never got that impression from it, though that wouldn't stop nationalists from trying to coopt its message as their own. I don't think Shin Godzilla has much of a message at all beyond "status quo bad," but I guess it's more fun to pretend otherwise.

What seems to be GKIDS' poster for the Shin Godzilla 4K re-release, focusing on Kamata-kun's attack on Shinagawa. Photo by Brett Homenick.

The hyperrealistic portrayal of government bureaucracy juxtaposed with the bonkers depiction of Godzilla in all his gloopy forms leads to some unintentional ridiculousness. When Kamata-kun (I guess we're stuck with that name, so...) first appears, in all its derpy glory, none of the characters -- not one -- comments on the inanity of being attacked by a raging Muppet from the bottom of the sea. Instead, characters marvel at the biological superiority of the thing, even though it can't take three steps without spilling its blood everywhere. 

Later on, after Godzilla takes his final form, the characters can't stop cooing about how Godzilla is a god incarnate. I mean, my guy is asleep for much of its screen time; you'd think a living, breathing deity could stay awake longer than most insomniacs could. In one of those rare moments when he is awake, he's simply standing around doing nothing and does so long enough for the prime minister to abort the attack on him out of fear that civilians might be killed, politely waiting for his cue to begin attacking again.   

Shin Godzilla in November 2016 at the Hotel Gracery Shinjuku. Photo by Brett Homenick.

One of the reasons An American Werewolf in London (1981) is called a comedy -- and why it endures as a bona fide classic -- is because writer-director John Landis knew that, in real-world situations, people would make jokes and crack wise when faced with illogical or impossible scenarios, such as transforming into a werewolf. I mean, sure, you'd have your crazies and weirdos who would want to worship the beast as their shrugging savior or whatever, but I tend to think highly-educated government officials would not be among them. People grounded in reality would react a lot more like David Naughton and Griffin Dunne did and less like power-fantasy-obsessed oddballs wanting to start a cult.

As for the characters, there's nothing to say. They are just bureaucrats, and that's it. Shortly after I posted my negative review of the movie in 2016, one guy argued that the movie actually did have fascinating, complex characters and cited the one played by the picture of Kihachi Okamoto as an example. If only Okamoto hadn't died more than 10 years before he was cast in the film, I'm sure he would have basked in the critical praise of his performance. 

Photo by Brett Homenick.

The inclusion of the character of Kayoco Ann Patterson is truly baffling, as it betrays a complete lack of understanding of American politics on the part of the filmmakers. The idea that a leather jacket-sporting party girl could get elected president -- in her 40s, no less -- as easily as it's suggested in the movie is downright laughable and discrediting to the narrative. 

Speaking of, I'm reminded of an interview I recently read with a published author on the Godzilla series, who made it a point in the Q&A to share his memory of watching Godzilla vs. Gigan (1972) in the early '90s and how stupid he found a particular scene involving the ability of the earthbound characters to hear the roars of the space monsters on a radio receiver. Apparently, this scene, which in all years I've watched it never made me think twice, was so hilarious that he loves recounting how much he laughed at it to anyone who will listen.

Given that this guy was proud of himself to the point of absurdity that a children's monster movie couldn't outsmart him, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of hysterics the suggestion of U.S. President Kayoco Ann Patterson sent our heroic scholar into. I know which is sillier, but do our fandom sacred cows?

Teruyoshi Nakano with Shin Godzilla in December 2016. Photo by Brett Homenick.

OK, enough about the movie. I do have a couple of random odds and ends to share, so let's get to them.

In December 2014, I had an end-of-the-year party hosted by my work with all my co-workers, even the ones I rarely ever saw. One of those co-workers was Tom Dolan, who'd been cast in small parts in Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla II (1993) as G-Force member John Conner and Godzilla vs. SpaceGodzilla (1994) as the dastardly gang leader McKay.

I was excited to meet him due to his connection with the Heisei Godzilla series, but I had no idea he was months away from getting cast as Graham Cussley, the American diplomat whose face we never see, who reminds Kayoco Ann Patterson of her ambition to become U.S. president in her 40s. 

With Tom Dolan in December 2014.

This was the only time I met and spoke with Tom, and I didn't really get a chance until we were leaving the party. We took the photo in this blog post in the subway while waiting for the train. We have communicated via email since then, but it's been years since I've heard from him. Hope he's doing well and living the dream.

With Teruyoshi Nakano in December 2016.

In June 2015, I was given the iggy by a Westerner who had appeared in tokusatsu productions that two talent agencies were casting the international roles for Shin Godzilla and gave me their information in case I wanted to audition. Naturally, I couldn't pass up such an opportunity, so I applied with both. I don't remember what happened with the one of the agencies -- either they never got back to me, or we had a brief communication that went nowhere.

But the other one was interested, and I was called in to get some promo shots done and fill out some paperwork. I put on a dress shirt and tie, went into the agency, got my pictures taken, completed the forms, and talked with the gentleman who, as I recall, was in charge of the business. I made it clear I was mostly interested in Shin Godzilla, though I would be happy to consider other work, too. I remember he said I might be a good candidate for a scientist role in the movie (not sure which -- he never specified), but that's about it.

Shigeo Kato in June 2016, standing near the location where Shin Godzilla comes ashore in Kamakura. Photo by Brett Homenick.

Back then, I worked six days a week at my real job, so, realistically, I knew getting cast was essentially a pipedream, but you're not going to get anywhere if you don't try. Besides, I like to think that Hideaki Anno personally rejected my head shot.

I still could have been in Shin Godzilla, though. If I recall correctly, the crowd scene in Kamata (where we first see Kamata-kun) was filmed in early September, and, since they needed lots and lots of extras, anyone was welcome to show up. As mentioned above, I was working six days a week, and 2015 was an incredibly busy year for me -- in the best way possible. It was my favorite year in Japan because of all the cool stuff I was doing. If I'm not mistaken, filming took place on a Sunday morning, which was my one day off for the week. I also happened not to have anything scheduled that day -- a rarity for 2015. I mean, it's a lock I'd head over to Kamata and appear in a Godzilla movie, right?

Wrong. I missed sleeping in and wanted to do just that. Besides, I figured, if it was meant to be, I'd get cast in a proper role in the movie. As slim as it was, there was still a chance of that, I thought, so I chose sleep over Shin Godzilla.

DEEP DIVE: Why Did Godzilla Series Screenwriter Kaoru Mabuchi Sour on Toho Kaiju Films?

The only known photo of Kaoru Mabuchi, discovered in 2024 by Meso.

Kaoru Mabuchi (1911-1987) was one of Toho's most important and prolific screenwriters during the Showa era, and he remains one of its most enigmatic figures. Under the pen name Takeshi Kimura, Mabuchi wrote or co-wrote a number of Toho's best and most successful tokusatsu productions, including Rodan (1956), The Mysterians (1957), The H-Man (1958), The Human Vapor (1960), The Last War (1961), Gorath (1962), and Matango (1963).

Under his given name, Mabuchi wrote or co-wrote a number of entertaining kaiju films, such as Frankenstein Conquers the World (1965), The War of the Gargantuas (1966), King Kong Escapes (1967), Destroy All Monsters (1968), and Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster (1971).

The reason Mabuchi stopped writing under his pen name and began writing scripts under his real name (while seeming to lose his motivation for the genre) has remained a mystery for decades, but perhaps we have an answer. Let's explore.

Yoshimitsu Banno in July 2016. Photo by Brett Homenick.

According to Yoshimitsu Banno, who co-wrote the screenplay for Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster with the celebrated Toho scriptwriter, Mabuchi revealed the reason to him. As the story goes, during the production of Matango, director Ishiro Honda cut the film's pre-title sequence in accordance with producer Tomoyuki Tanaka's wishes, despite Mabuchi's protests to keep it intact. Mabuchi argued the sequence was too important to cut, but his pleas ultimately fell on deaf ears. After getting overruled, Mabuchi gave up, and he never wrote another pure science-fiction movie for the studio.

Banno's own experience with the screenwriter was likely even more volatile than what Honda encountered. In spite of Mabuchi's mercurial personality, however, the two managed to hammer out a screenplay for Smog Monster that not only satisfied Banno but still entertains audiences around the world more than 50 years later. Based on Banno's descriptions of events, here's how the process went.

Just before the end of Expo '70, producer Tanaka showed Banno a copy of Mabuchi's first draft of Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster. Banno was shocked at the lack of quality of the script, labeling it "terrible" and "not interesting at all." 

Nakasendo station Magome-juku (located in Nakatsugawa, Gifu Prefecture) in June 2013, which is where Banno completely rewrote Mabuchi's first draft. It proved the perfect location to find inspiration for a story featuring hallucinating hippies. Photo by Brett Homenick.

Completely unsatisfied with Mabuchi's efforts, Banno decided to rewrite the screenplay from scratch. After the conclusion of Expo '70, Banno traveled along Nakasendo via Nagoya by car, stopping at Magome-juku in Nakatsugawa, Gifu Prefecture, to overhaul the script in a hotel by himself. 

Following that rewrite, with the approval of producer Tanaka, Banno and Mabuchi stayed at a cheap, remote hotel in Nagano Prefecture for a week to revise the script together. It was during this time that Banno and Mabuchi had a conversation that revealed Mabuchi's lack of enthusiasm and motivation. According to Banno, the conversation went like this:

“Why did you write such a boring story?”

“I was cutting corners.”

“What do you mean by that?”

After the two started speaking honestly and directly, Mabuchi explained, "I've worked on several projects with new directors, but they all failed. I figured this one would fail, too, so I just wrote it off lightly."  

Yoshimitsu Banno signs a Godzilla vs. Hedorah (1971) DVD sleeve in August 2012. Photo by Brett Homenick.

Banno saw this project as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so cutting corners wasn't an option for him. Banno spoke to Mabuchi about his determination to make Smog Monster a success, after which Mabuchi became properly motivated to work on it. It was no easy task, however, as Banno recalled that it took "heated debates and thorough discussions" to make it so. Banno continues:

Once that happened, Mr. Mabuchi proved to be highly logical, meticulous, and careful in his writing, which was both reliable and engaging. 

But the writing process moved slowly. Banno provides this example to illustrate:

For the scene in which the main character, [Dr. Toru] Yano, is attacked by Hedorah underwater, I had diving experience, so I continued writing quickly. When Mabuchi saw this, he angrily shouted, "If you're going to write it alone, I'm going home!" [I replied,] "Please wait!"

Banno was able to calm Mabuchi down, and the pair successfully completed the screenplay.

Yoshimitsu Banno with a copy of The Man Who Made Godzilla Fly in November 2016. Photo by Brett Homenick. 

The information in this blog post about Mabuchi's involvement with Matango comes from a conversation Banno and I had together, supported by contemporaneous notes. The material regarding Banno's working relationship with Mabuchi comes from both English- and Japanese-language drafts of what ultimately became Banno's memoir, The Man Who Made Godzilla Fly,* which was sent to me by Banno via email in November 2012 for my feedback and editing assistance. 

* According to Banno, the title of his memoir was derived from the title of the interview Damon Foster and I conducted in July 2005 with Banno when it appeared in a Godzilla-oriented fanzine the same year.