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On the other hand, movies exported from Japan exhibit an obsession with correctness; it's not only a perceived national virtue but a cultural predilection. Which is one of the reasons the 23 Godzilla movies are such a kick in the head. The giant p.c. reptile has taken time out to battle evil industrialists, a pollution monster, government bureaucrats, nuclear power, genetic engineers, and media moguls, but still managed to be a good working father.
It's been 15 years since an original Gojira episode was widely released to American theaters. That's 15 years too long. Fortunately, Toho Company Ltd. parent Sony took exception to the bastardization of their scaly progeny for the 1998 Devlin-Emmerich Hollywood version of Godzilla (which despite its bad rep made a bunch of money and will likely lead to sequelizing) by exporting the latest new-look, beefier G-flick. And in a summer when memorable movies have been in short supply, I was looking forward to seeing something honest and unpretentious, that likely would deliver no less than what was promised: a guy in a monster suit flattens and flames Tokyo, the military rolls out a bunch of little tank and airplane models to expend vast amounts of useless firecracker ordnance against him, after which time he fights of a more evil monster, while all around Japanese people say ridiculous things in ridiculous American voices.
In Godzilla 2000, originally titled Gojira ni-sen mireniamu (Godzilla Millennium) and a big hit in Japan, the grumpy atomic mutant dinosaur wastes no time, showing up right at the beginning with a fishing boat in his mouth to terrorize a lighthouse operator. Immediately, vigilant operatives of the Godzilla Prediction Network (if we had channels like that over here, I'd get cable again) are on his trail. Meanwhile an enormous rocky UFO has also emerged from the ocean and cut a smoking swath across the mainland (geez, when it rains...). It extrudes an equally large creature that looks like H. R. Giger's Alien, and while personnel from the Crisis Control Intelligence Agency -- the CCIA -- gravely stand by, sprawling king-sized smackdown ensues.
I saw this with a crowd that mixed kids with some adults who were there just to babysit and others who were obvious fans of the kaiju genre. And we all laughed. A lot. What's not to like? The effects, while obviously light-years beyond the 1954 original, are still 21st century bad; even the few computer-generated shots are outrageously inept (see, this is what happens when a country squanders its resources on practical things such as building better cars and electronic appliances rather than on entertainment). But most enjoyable is the dialog. Mild, forced profanity intended to avoid the ironically labeled "G" rating punctuates such memorable statements as "we know, from experience, when Godzilla attacks, he advances instead of retreats" and "did you see that flying rock go by?" and "Godzilla should be analyzed; he's a gold mine of knowledge."
Why Japan, of all the countries that have produced giant-monster movies since King Kong got the ball rolling back in 1933, should make a national industry out of them is open to conjecture. (In the 1980s, North Korean dictator Kim Il-sung had his secret police kidnap the stars of a South Korean monster movie and force them to make his own communist kaiju, Pulgasari. As part of the recent tentative rapprochement, it played in theaters in the South for the first time, where it went over about as well as unsolicited telemarketing calls for North Korean timeshare condos.) It probably has something to do with their sincerity about having been twice nuked 55 years ago. Or maybe it's because no self-respecting Tokyo insurance adjuster would be so impolite as to deny a claim to rebuild a sushi stand that had been stepped on by a national symbol. B
*An actual monster-themed website.
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