Tag Archives: Akira Emoto

1994, ★★½, Foreign

Godzilla vs. Space Godzilla (1994, Yamashita Kensho)

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To say Godzilla vs. Space Godzilla has it all is an understatement. It has more than that. It has dirt bikes, black holes, a “Muppet Babies” version of Godzilla, a superwoman, walks on the beach at sunset, and, apparently, the first butt shot in a Godzilla movie. It’s a wacky mess, proving having no story is sometimes a good thing. The 1990s Godzilla series was so dependent on continuity, at one point during the film, I thought Joss Whedon wrote it. Space Godzilla has a bunch of little details, but the thing moves at such a fast pace, they’re not used for any reason other than storytelling brevity.

I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be a comedy. While the writer did go on to do other Godzilla movies, the director only did this one, which probably means Toho wasn’t happy with his performance. How could they be? He’s created a perfect Godzilla movie. It ends with a U.N. anti-Godzilla military guy opining, “Godzilla’s not that bad, is he?” After he’s just destroyed a city–of course, so has the Japanese anti-Godzilla military guy, in a giant robot (from these films, I’ve learned the Japanese solve all their problems with giant robots)–during a pointless fight with Space Godzilla. Maybe the lack of purpose–the film flip-flops between being about the telepathic control of Godzilla and the Space Godzilla’s origins in a black hole–is what makes Space Godzilla so good. It’s a bunch of scenes strung together, some of them really big–there’s some great matte shots in Space Godzilla, probably the most impressive in any Godzilla movie–all connected through the five main characters. Oh, I forgot–in my list up above–there’s a mad scientist too. Dirt bikes, black holes, and a mad scientist. Not much else offers you those three items.

There’s also the “Muppet Babies” Godzilla, which is cute and totally absurd. But really, it’s the cast. At one point, I got thinking about Yoshikawa Towako’s performance–when she’s standing around talking about mind-controlling Godzilla–she’s actually taking this absurd acting job seriously and making it all believable. All the other principals, Hashizume Jun, Yoneyama Zenkichi, and Odaka Megumi are good. Very likable, people you want to spend an hour and a half with. The best is Emoto Akira, playing a soldier obsessed with killing Godzilla. The film treats him as a goof-ball, running around on foot trying to catch the monster. It’s hilarious.

Technically, I already mentioned the sometimes great composites (usually when there’s no urban destruction involved). There’s also a really good score in Space Godzilla, something akin to a 1970s John Williams disaster score (except the two scenes I’m convinced are homage to From Here to Eternity). The most impressive thing about Space Godzilla, besides its approach to storytelling, is its sound design. The final fight scene has little weight, since no one’s really fighting for anything (the earlier fight, when Space Godzilla is trying to beat up Little Godzilla, is much more effective), but the sound design is amazing. Some great editing in the last fight scene too.

Godzilla vs. Space Godzilla is a big dumb mess and it appreciates and understands it’s a big dumb mess and does everything it can with that condition. It’s constantly delightful.

2.5/4★★½

CREDITS

Directed by Yamashita Kensho; written by Kashiwabara Hiroshi; director of photography, Kishimoto Masahiro; music by Hattori Takayuki; produced by Tanaka Tomoyuki and Tomiyama Shogo; released by Toho Company Ltd.

Starring Odaka Megumi (Saegusa Miki), Hashizume Jun (Shinjo Koji), Yoneyama Zenkichi (Sato Kiyoshi), Emoto Akira (Major Yuki), Yoshikawa Towako (Dr. Gondo), Saitô Yôsuke (Dr. Okubo), Sahara Kenji (Minister Segawa), Nakao Akira (Commander Aso) and Ueda Kôichi (Deputy Commander Hyodo).

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2001, ★, Foreign

Turn (2001, Hirayama Hideyuki)

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The modern Japanese drama tends to be emotive. Even when they aren’t good, they succeed in making the viewer care for the characters.

Turn is, ostensibly, a Japanese Groundhog Day. Only not funny. Where Groundhog Day was about Bill Murray interacting with people with no consequence, the character stuck in turnover in Turn is alone. She spends about fifteen minutes with no character interaction.

A character alone is a difficult proposition. She doesn’t have a dog and she doesn’t have a ball with eyes on. She makes some comments–really forced ones for a while–but the first twenty minutes are hard to get through. Without some voiceover, which would have done Turn a great deal of good, you feel too much like you’re watching a movie. It’s hard to identify. The character is a preschool teacher and her experience could have been turned into story for her charges. Turn also provides one with a lot of opportunities to conceive a superior remake (or adaptation, as it’s based on a Japanese bestseller).

The characters and their performers are likeable. There’s the unexplored relationship between the woman’s mother and her sort of suitor. A relationship, I suppose, left for a better film. It’s a fantastic situation, so getting me to care about it–especially considering the film has two principle and two supporting actors–is hard. A film that nullifies itself with its ending has to be careful not sacrifice all that the characters have struggled to achieve. Honestly, Turn was never going to be higher than a one and a half, but when it cut itself off, when it made those struggles secondary to resolving the fantastic situation, it dropped–immediately–to a one. Then the movie ends moments later. It’s not even a twist ending–it’s predictable after a certain point–and Turn manages to suffer most of the downsides of the twist ending.

1/4★

CREDITS

Directed by Hirayama Hideyuki; screenplay by Murakami Osamu, based on a novel by Kitamura Kaoru; director of photography, Fujisawa Junichi; edited by Okuhara Shigeru; music by Micky Yoshino; released by Asmik Ace Entertainment.

Starring Makise Riho (Maki), Nakamura Kanatrou (Youhei), Emoto Akira (Matsubara), Kawahara Ayako (Yukari), Kitamura Kazuki (Kiyotaka) and Baisho Mitsuko (Maki’s mother).