Back in March, I reviewed Mr. Peabody & Sherman, the big screen animated remake of the old Peabody’s Improbable History shorts. The movie worked out well as an adaptation of the shorts, building on top of the formula set down by Peabody’s Improbable History of a trip in the WABAC to meet a historical personage and help them to do what history says they did, wrapping up with a pun. So, why a second look?
Part of preparing for Lost in Translation is finding the work to be reviewed. Most of the movies reviewed are found on DVD by wandering the aisles of the music and video store, looking for anything that stands out. A few weeks ago, I found the complete collection of Peabody’s Improbable History, standing out along with Mr. Peabody & Sherman on DVD. Ninety five-minute short cartoons, featuring fractured history and weaponized puns, well worth watching, leading me to agree with my earlier findings. The ninety-first short, or, properly, the first short is the reason for the second look.
That first short, entitled “Show Opening” in the collection, set up the entire premise of Peabody’s Improbable History. The short shows Mr. Peabody adopting Sherman and why he built the WABAC. The collection was my first time seeing it. I had been working on memories of reruns of The Rocky & Bullwinkle Show when it was on YTV. My viewing was hit and miss, so I got the gist of the show without getting full details. Having access to the first short and, indeed, the entire collection means reassessing the review.
Turns out, the movie was a better adaptation than original review said. Mr. Peabody & Sherman mined “Show Opening”, using it almost verbatim in the opening minutes. Mr. Peabody’s apartment in the movie is a larger budget version of his apartment in the shorts. The puns are as wonderful in the movie. Compare*.
From “Henry VIII”:
Catharine Parr, Henry’s fifth wife, is along the wall for her execution, facing a firing line aiming golf clubs. Sherman naturally asks about her and Mr. Peabody explains.
Sherman: “But the guards are aiming at her with golf clubs?”
Mr. Peabody: “How else would you shoot Parr?”
From Mr. Peabody & Sherman:
After escaping Robespierre at the start of the Reign of Terror, Mr. Peabody remarks on how the French Revolutuion could have been prevented.
Mr. Peabody: And think, Marie Antoinette could have avoided the whole revolution if she simply issued an edict to distribute bread to the poor. But then she couldn’t have her dessert.
Sherman: But why, Mr. Peabody.
Mr. Peabody: Because, Sherman, you can’t have your cake and edict, too.
It’s obvious that the writers watched the original series, all of it. They started at the original concept, of a dog adopting a boy and Mr. Peabody needing a way to channel Sherman’s energy, leading to the creation of the WABAC. The CG animation was used to tell the story about a dog and his boy instead of being the reason for the movie. There were a few updates; it’s been fifty-five years since “Show Opening” first aired and a lot more history has happened, but Mr. Peabody is still a genius. The effort was made to keep the core, and the movie leans heavily on the first short as its main source. Mr. Peabody & Sherman is a far better adaptation than expected.
Next week, the November news round up.
* Neither of these comes close to the pun ending the “Mata Hari” short. The fourth wall was broken to warn viewers of the quality of the final pun.
Unexpected fan favourites can appear just about anywhere. Marvel Comics has several, characters that, for various reasons, just resonated with readers. With some, such as Squirrel Girl, it’s the innate humour that draws in fans. For others, it’s the rebel of the group. In the various X-Men titles, that was Wolverine.
Wolverine first appeared in the final panel of The Incredible Hulk #180, with the story continuing the next issue. Conceived as a mutant agent of a Canadian intelligence agency, Wolverine reappeared in the first issue of Giant-Size X-Men, the soon afterwards in X-Men #94. His popularity grew, exploding in the 80s as the anti-hero movement began. This popularity led to a four-issue mini-series, Wolverine, helmed by Chris Claremont and Frank Miller. With Wolverine’s in-universe longevity, thanks to his mutant healing factor, writers could look at various parts of his past, adding depth to the character. Popularity with fans led to Logan to several mini-series, cross-overs, becoming the anchor in the weekly Marvel Comics Presents, his own ongoing series, joining the Avengers, and the lead of a cartoon. He has joined Spider-Man as a means of letting readers know a title is part of the Marvel Universe just by appearing in a new character’s comic. Wolverine has been a Canadian secret agent, a teacher, an X-Man, a crime lord, a ronin, a soldier, an Avenger.
The Wolverine, released in 2013 by Twentieth Century Fox, takes a look at a moment in Logan’s long life, with Hugh Jackman returning as the title character. The movie opens at a prisoner-of-war camp in Japan in 1945, across the bay from Nagasaki. Logan is the first to hear the approaching B-29 bomber, but a Japanese officer also hears it and frees the prisoners to prevent their deaths in the coming bombing run. As the prisoners run for their lives, the officer remembers the one in the hole, Logan, and frees him as well. Logan, though, recognizes what is about to happen. There is only one bomber. However, instead of also running, the officer joins his superiors as they commit seppuku. Logan prevents the lethal stabbing, and both watch as the second atomic bomb ever explodes. Hauling the officer along, Logan returns to his cell in the hole, where he protects the officer from the fireball with his own body.
Logan then wakes up from the dream within a dream. As he shakes off the nightmare, he realizes that he’s in the Yukon, where he went after the X-Men movies.* He spends a typical day, a trip into town for supplies followed by work in the woods. He ignores the boisterousness of a group of hunters, not wanting to get involved or be noticed. That night, though, he hears their screams. When he investigates, he finds their camp torn apart and a bear in the throes of agony from an arrow. Logan puts the poor beast out of its misery and heads to town. He easily finds the hunters, including the one survivor of the bear’s rampage and starts asking questions, wanting to find the owner of the poisoned arrow he pulled from the bear’s body. Before an all-out brawl can start, a tiny Japanese woman introduces herself and her katana. The hunters don’t take her seriously, but she demonstrates finesse with the weapon, killing no one while making precise cuts that show that it was her decision to keep them alive. As she leaves, she invites Logan to follow her to her car.
The young woman introduces herself as Yukio, representing Yashida, the dying CEO of Yashida Industries, who has requested Logan, the Wolverine, to talk to him before he passes away. Yukio, herself a mutant who can see how people will die, manages to persuade Logan into going to Tokyo, though just for one day. As for the hunters, Yukio sees them dying in a week in a car crash.
In Tokyo, Logan is reunited with the Japanese officer he saved, Yashida himself, who is in the final stages of cancer. Yashida asks his doctor, Dr. Green, and his family, son Shingen and granddaughter Mariko, time alone to talk with Logan. With everyone out, Yashida makes an offer to Logan, the end of Wolverine’s long suffering, the removal of his powers and transferring them to the dying man. Logan refuses. Later that night, Yashida passes away. That same night, Jean Grey returns again in Logan’s dreams, only to turn into Dr. Green.
Yashida’s funeral the next day is somber and formal. Logan, though, senses something is off just before the Yakuza gangsters reveal themselves. One gangster produces a shotgun from underneath his monk robes and shoots Logan. While shooting the Wolverine is never a good idea, this time, Logan is staggered. The wounds don’t close as rapidly as they should. Logan doesn’t let the wounds slow him down as he demonstrates that he is the best at what he does. Still, he is slowed down by gunshot wounds, far more than he should be.
The gangsters’ target is Mariko; they attempt to kidnap her, but are stopped by not only Logan, but by Harada, who is making accurate bow shots from rooftops over a kilometre away. Logan is the only one to spot him, but since Harada is assisting Mariko, does nothing to stop the archer. Instead, he grabs Mariko to take her away from the fighting and the gangsters. The pair work their way through Tokyo, running from the Yakuza, until they reach the train station. Mariko loses Logan in the crowd at the station and boards a bullet train to Nagasaki. As she starts to relax, Logan falls into a seat across the aisle from her.
Logan’s tenaciousness is rewarded. Several gangsters have also boarded the train. Logan spots them and tries to deal with them. Adamantium claws are not the best weapon in an enclosed space, especially if trying to keep the space enclosed; Logan rips through the outer wall of the train car. At first, it works to his advantage, letting him toss out a couple of gangsters, but he, too, is soon dragged out of the bullet train. The fight winds up on the top of the train, still travelling at 300km/h** and ends when Logan bluffs the last gangster into jumping at the wrong time.
The pair leave the train at the next stop, long before reaching Nagasaki. Stopping at a love hotel, Logan gets patched up by a veterinary student after collapsing. His healing factor is completely shut down, yet he insists on protecting Mariko through to Nagasaki and beyond. They take a bus to the reborn city, where Mariko’s grandfather had built a sanctuary for the family. Logan recognizes the view. He looks for and finds the cell he was in when the atomic bomb exploded.
During the time at the sanctuary, Logan and Mariko fall in love. Yukio, still in Tokyo, has a vision of Logan dying, and heads to the haven to warn him. The Yakuza catch up and kidnap Mariko, taking her away before Logan can stop them. After some interrogation of the sole gangster stopped by Logan and some investigation, Logan and Yukio return to the Yashida residence, where they do not find any security. Eariler, Harada and his ninja had arrived to rescue Mariko from her father. Dr. Green also appears and poisons Shingen, leaving with Harada. Logan, not finding anyone, heads to Yashida’s hospital bed and uses the X-ray machine there to find out why his healing factor isn’t working. The X-ray reveals a device attached to his heart. Yukio reminds Logan of the vision she had: him, on his back, his heart in his hand. Logan, however, performs his own open heart surgery.
Shingen, left for dead by Dr. Green, appears. Yukio fights him off as Logan tries to remove the device. The Wolverine does, indeed, die on the table, but instead of his heart in his hand, he has the device that had blocked his healing factor. Yukio keeps Shingen away from Logan, the fight a standstill. Despite the flatline beep, though, Logan’s body repairs itself. Shingen manages to get the upper hand in the sword fight, but before he can kill Yukio, Logan stops him. The fight’s tenor changes. Logan is no longer hampered by his lack of power. Cuts that would kill another man just get him angry. Shingen’s best attack, one that, if The Wolverine was an anime series, would leave Logan cut in twain, does little to stop him. Logan leaves Shingen alive, reminding him that he tried to kill his own daughter.
Yukio and Logan work out where Mariko is taken. Logan heads out to Yashida’s birthplace and enters the family compound. Harada confronts him, and tries to point out that getting further is a death sentence, not realizing that Logan has solved that little problem. Ninja move in to attack and are cut down. Harada, realizing that there’s nothing gained by throwing more ninja at Wolverine other than giving Logan practice, orders his men to use bows insteads. The archer poisons his own broadhead arrows, and, after many arrows, all with cables attached, Logan is brought down.
Inside, when he awakens, Logan finds out what has been happening. The family’s Silver Samurai, protector for many generations, has been modified. The pilot needs Logan’s healing factor. Logan, however, refuses to go down without a fight.
A lot happened in the movie, to say the least. Before I analyze The Wolverine, I want to make reference to Adaptations and the Superheroic Setting, which discussed the creation of using a different universe in different media. The short version of it: Comic books tend to have a lot of continuity behind them. With the Wolverine, there is forty years worth of stories since his first appearance in 1974. While fans of the character are aware of the backstory, not everyone in the audience is. Setting the X-Men movies as their own cinematic universe allows the film makers room to tell the story they want without spending half the running time explaining everything that has happened prior. Adding to the complexity, The Wolverine also has to fit in with the previous movies; X-Men: First Class was, essentially, a prequel to X-Men, not a reboot. It’s an interesting position to be in, where interesting is akin to the “Chinese curse“.
The film makers, in the DVD extra***, mentioned that they used the Claremont-Miller mini-series as a starting point, using the dichotomy in Logan’s nature to be both soldier and loner. Mariko has appeared not only in the mini-series but also in the regular X-Men title and is, for the most part, portrayed the same. Logan’s visions of Jean flow from the events in X2, though it’s possible that the film makers could be angling towards the Dark Phoenix Saga or that what Logan remembers is not necessarily how things are, thanks to Days of Future Past. Time travel really messes up continuity. The Wolverine focuses on Logan as Logan, not his superhero identity. This focus has appeared in the comics, including his time as the anchor for Marvel Comics Presents and his own mini-series.
Balancing the different aspects and origins (film and comic) of the character is a fine line, but the movie manages to walk it. Anyone familiar with Logan from either just the comic or just the movies will have no issue with Jackman’s portrayal. There are liberties taken; in the comics, Harada is the Silver Samurai and a mutant himself. The changes, though, don’t take away from Logan, nor do they substantially change the events. While The Wolverine follows the movies more than the comic, the essence of Logan is caught and portrayed well.
Next week, a second look at Mr. Peabody & Sherman.
* The X-Men movie timeline gets a bit convoluted. X-Men: Days of Future Past ignores X-Men 3 completely. The Wolverine seems to do the same thing, but there are elements, such as the Jean Grey dreams, that hint at something else, like a timeline that is about to change.
** Speed limit in Ontario is 100km/h, or a bit over 60mph.
*** DVD extras are a boon to these reviews. Sometimes, a bit of insight into the process of making the movie helps figure out why some decisions were made.
In light of my earlier article on dystopias, I thought it would be appropriate to bring back an aborted setting that I worked on a long, long time ago. The premise was that there was a great conflict by a number of groups, called the Utopians, who were each genuinely trying to better everyone’s lives. But they disagreed on methods and they disagreed on ends. Even though they acknowledged that they were all trying to do a good job they couldn’t work together because each of the others sacrificed or didn’t address something which they considered to be of vital importance.
That’s what this is about, by demonstrating and giving examples. Good Guys— or at least Decent Guys— who still can’t get along because they have such differing value systems, and the myriad ways that a utopia can take root. (more…)
Best summary I heard “In Riverdale Anything Can Happen.”
I think there’s something to that. Archie in concept is tethered to certain ideas and characters who are archetypical. This in some ways is limiting, but as the characters are about very human situations, it is a human tether. Archie’s situations are human ones – love, school, life, death, food (especially in the case of Jughead).
But because Archie has this tether, you can then go hog wild with it in a way. It always has a ground, so go nuts. Team Archie up with the Punisher, have him fight Predator, explore alternate timelines, create the Legion of Archie. Whatever works – Archie and company are still themselves.
In turn the series own limited focus – wholesome teams in their rather nice town – provides a limitation. In some ways the best thing to do is go a bit nuts – and you can, as you have themes to work with and return to.
Finally the human-humorous grounding gives you fertile ground to experiment. The message of Riverdale is “Everyone belongs,” as we’ve seen with the groundbreaking Kevin Keller. Everyone is a pretty wide berth to experiment with.
Glad to meet the new Archie, same as the old Archie, a difference we can all be glad is the same.
– Steven Savage
Steven Savage is a Geek 2.0 writer, speaker, blogger, and job coach. He blogs on careers at http://www.musehack.com/, publishes books on career and culture at http://www.informotron.com/, and does a site of creative tools at http://www.seventhsanctum.com/. He can be reached at http://www.stevensavage.com/.
Lost in Translation has taken a look at different movies based on Marvel characters, from the Avengers Initiative to the licensed characters like Spider-Man and Daredevil. The recent movies have all been well received for the most part. However, Marvel’s fortunes weren’t always so lofty. The first theatrical release featuring a Marvel character* laid an egg.
The character, Howard the Duck, was created by Steve Gerber and Val Mayerik for Adventure into Fear #19 in 1973. Howard was a duck who found himself stuck on Earth, pulled away from his life on his home planet of Duckworld, plucked from his life by Thog the Nether-Spawn. Thog wanted to collapse all realities into one under his control. Howard teamed up with several other heroes to stop Thog, but a misstep sent him to Cleveland. After a few problems with law enforcement and being mistaken for a mutant, he happened across the lair of the villainous Pro-Rata and rescued Beverly Switzer, a life model, with the help of Spider-Man**. Howard and Beverly would come to love each other across species differences.
The movie Howard the Duck, released in 1986, focuses on Howard and his arrival on Earth. Without access to other characters in the Marvel-verse, the movie shows Howard in his everyday life, establishing him as an everyduck, before hurling him through a wormhole to land in Cleveland, Ohio, outside a dive bar with live band Cherry Bomb. Howard bounces from trouble to trouble before finding a place to hide and gather his wits. Meanwhile, the lead singer of Cherry Bomb, Beverly Switzer, has wrapped up for the night and left the bar. Two “fans” intercept her and refuse to let her leave. She fights them off the best she can while calling for help. Help does arrive, all three-foot-two of him. Howard leaps in with his Quak-Fu and helps Beverly chase away her assailants. Not having anywhere else to go, Howard takes up Beverly’s offer to go home with her.
The next day, Beverly introduces Howard to Phil, a scientist and intern at a lab. Phil is ecstatic at meeting an living, breathing, talking example of parallel evolution. Howard gets overwhelmed and leaves. As he tries to adjust to Cleveland, he looks for a job. The best he gets a position as a janitor at a romance spa. The job and the boss soon get to him and Howard quits. He wanders around Cleveland, eventually returning to the dive where he first landed and met Beverly. Cherry Bomb is on stage inside. Howard goes inside, where he overhears Cherry Bomb’s manager talk about his plan to withhold the band’s money to get Beverly to go home with him. A barroom brawl breaks out with Howard outnumbered three to one by the manager and his friends, but the alien duck wins. Howard takes the money and forces the manager to stop managing Cherry Bomb. Later backstage, Howard reveals the cash to Cherry Bomb.
Meanwhile, Phil has been busy. He has spoken to Dr. Jennings, the lead researcher at the lab, and arrives at the bar. Phil wasn’t expecting Howard to be there, but takes advantage of the situation to take one of Howard’s tail feathers. The DNA in that feather matches the DNA on a feather that appeared after a laser-retrieval experiment. Dr. Jennings was responsible for pulling Howard across the galaxy to Cleveland. Howard reasons that if the laser could pull him to Cleveland, it could send him back to Duckworld.
An accident at the lab interferes with Howard’s plan. Dr. Jennings has been changed. The police arrive as a result of the alarm going off and wind up arresting Howard for being an illegal alien. Howard manages to escape from the police and meet up with Beverly and Dr. Jenning. In Dr. Jenning’s car, the researcher starts undergoing a transformation. The last experiment had pulled one of the Dark Overlords, one who is now occupying Dr. Jennings’ body. The Dark Overlord wants to free his comrades and plans to use the laser to bring them to Earth. His comrades need a body, and the Dark Overlord plans on giving them Beverly’s. Howard, with the help of Phil, rescue Beverly, defeat the Dark Overlord, and sends the other Overlords back.
As mentioned at the beginning, the movie bombed. However, as an adaptation, it works. There’s a change from the existentialism that Gerber had in the comic to a science fiction comedy, but the idea of a person ripped out of his home, his life, to an alien landscape is still there. The love between Howard and Beverly is still there, and builds subtly where even they aren’t aware of it even if the audience is. When two people can finish each other’s sentences without effort, there’s a true connection between them. The main issue is the design of Howard. The movie was made before CGI was commonplace. The Last Starfighter had been released two years earlier in 1984, but the techniques were still in their infancy. Thus, Howard was a man in a duck suit. Howard’s look in the comics was still very duck-like, and his stance would be murder on most people’s backs if attempted in real life. Industrial Lights & Magic did manage to create believable animatronics for Howard’s facial expressions.
As for tanking at the box office, Howard the Duck was an odd choice to adapt. George Lucas had found the comic, read it, then passed it on to Gloria Katz and Willard Huyck to write. The project sat for a few years before Universal needed a film to add to its line up. The original idea was to create an animated feature, but Universal needed one sooner than animating would take. This need led to Howard being live action. The other issue was that Howard, both comic and movie, wasn’t a children’s title. Howard smokes cigars and has sex. At the time of release, though, the movie received a PG rating, which allowed for saltier scenes and topless nudity without necessarily allowing much in language or violence. As a comparison, Airplane also received a PG rating with a topless woman shimmying with the plane.
In favour, the writers, producers, directors, even actors had read the comic. Lea Thompson, who played Beverly, was given copies of the comic after she was hired. The original idea of an animated film would have avoided some of the problems they had. With John Barry, of 007 fame, composing the soundtrack and Thomas Dolby writing songs for Cherry Bomb, the music fit. The original Howard the Duck was respected, even with the problems of doing Howard live. With Howard making a cameo in Guardians of the Galaxy, it could be time for his triumphant return.
Next week, The Wolverine.
* The 1944 Captain America Republic film serial was under the Timely banner.
** To establish a character within the Marvel Universe and to pull in readers, editorial frequently used Spider-Man as a guest star. In later years, the Punisher and the Wolverine would also guest in titles for the same reason.
(Originally published at Ganriki, I thought the crew here would enjoy it!)
And while we’re at it, is light a particle or a wave? That one, we already have (sort of) an answer for: it depends on how it’s constrained. The same, I think, applies to anime too: it’s a genre and a medium, depending on which way the pie is being sliced, and who’s doing the slicing, and who’s doing the serving of the slices.
To me, the main distinction is in which eyes are doing the beholding. If you’re a fan, it’s easier to think of anime as a medium, because odds are you’ve spent enough time up close and personal with it to see how it manifests in too many different ways to be a genre. If you’re a non-fan, looking in from the outside, many aspects of it tend to blur together to present to an outsider the trappings of a genre.
Some of this, I suspect, comes from the way anime — more these days than before — is contrived to serve a certain self-selecting audience that expects to see certain things. Hence the endless parade of harem and moé shows — not that those things are automatically bad, more that what we get is designed more to fit a certain set of preconceptions than it is to tell a story or even be all that entertaining. (I’m glad the worst of those two trends appears to be over, but I’m not confident it’s being replaced with anything markedly better.) A non-fan looks at such things and sees a whole slew of traits that s/he can bundle together into a genre — making it all the easier to identify it on sight and, most likely, consign it to perdition.
Fans on the inside, though, see genres within anime, but they don’t automatically regard anime as a whole as a “genre”. They know that it’s a container, though, one which can enclose any number of different sorts of experiences. Nobody with enough experience thinks the works of Satoshi Kon, Clannad, the various Gundams, or the various Monogataris are coming from remotely the same places. Odds are no two of those things even have the same fanbases within anime fandom — but again, to an outsider, it’s all one big undifferentiated lump of Weird Japan. Labeling it as a genre makes it easier to not have to think about the possibility that it might in fact be not all that undifferentiated.
Understand something: I’m not blaming anyone for taking that approach. Most anyone outside of any highly trafficked fandom is going to feel baffled. But few people that I’ve run into think of Doctor Who, Red Dwarf, and Sherlock in the same “genre” of British Stuff I Couldn’t Be Bothered With. I suspect that’s because the main mode of delivery for those things didn’t necessarily start with its national origin, but with a concept. Anime is set apart first and foremost by the fact that it comes from Japan. If the West put one big label on it to begin with as a way to allow “us” to wrap “our” heads around it, is it really such a surprise that so many of those not deep in the thick of it are able to put it all in a box and sit on the lid?
I suspect the same goes for all those who can’t get into Hong Kong action pictures, or Bollywood musicals. And, while we’re at it, what about all those abroad who might well have the same shelve-it-and-shove-it approach to Hollywood tentpole productions (which might well all be a “genre”, given how formulaic they are), or the Marvel/DC axis of comic books? If people can call anime a “genre”, it’s not because of anything anime alone has done; it’s because of the way many of the mass-market entertainments created by any culture tend to breed in a good deal of uniformity that only falls away once you come closer.
What I’m saying here, then, is that the whole question of whether anime is a genre or a medium doesn’t just depend on who you ask. The very fact that such a question exists is a symptom of how any of us looks at another culture’s cultural products, and maybe even our own as well. (Many Japanese novelists, for instance, give anime and especially manga the same lump-it-together-and-forget-it treatment as Western non-fans.) We have a hard time not looking at such things without needing a label or a box of some kind, in big part because such things are consumption instructions. If we know something is comic-book-ish, we have some idea of how to process the material. If we know something is anime-ish, likewise.
But those instructions are not absolute. They don’t come down from the mountain on stone tablets, as it were; they come from the whole history of viewership for those things. They don’t have to be taken on face value, and most of the history of anime advocacy between fans and from fans to non-fans revolves around this. It’s not just a cartoon, we say to the wholly uninitiated. And to the initiated who already has some territory staked out, we tell them it’s not just a love story or a fight show. We would scarcely need to do this kind of advocacy if the existing labels — harem comedy, shōnen action show, shōjō romance — didn’t already carry such weight.
What’s more, neither mode — genre and medium — exists entirely apart from the other, certainly not as long as either viewpoint exists at all. Some anime embody anime-as-a-genre far more specifically than others, and ask to be looked at in that light; some embody it far more as a medium than others, and so that approach works best for the items in question. The genre tells us what kind of story to expect, and how it will be fulfilled. This medium is a way to look at something that empowers it in certain ways, that gives it a certain automatic suspension of disbelief that some stories need to embody as effortlessly as they can.
Knowing that we have these reactions puts us one step closer towards being able to approach these things entirely on their own terms, without needing to figure out first what part of the shelf to put them on. In the end, we don’t need a label of “genre” or even “medium” to justify anything; it’s the labels that need us to justify themselves. Would that we can see so.
(Originally posted at Muse Hack, I thought you Sanctumites would enjoy it as well)
I met Lillian Csernica at Con-Volution. She’s a professional author who’s written short stories and even warmed my worldbuilding heart with a guide to making magic systems. Of course I’m going to interview here, she’s one of us. (more…)
The atomic bomb has been used just twice in war, both times on Japan. The destruction the bomb wrought led to nuclear escalation between the US and the USSR, and a permanent change in the Japanese psyche. Post-war atomic testing on uninhabited islands still had fallout. Even now, nuclear energy isn’t trusted fully. In science fiction, atomic radiation leads to mutations. Marvel Comics’ X-Men are specifically called the Children of the Atom. Spider-Man gained his powers from a irradiated arachnid. Going back further, though, leads to the grandfather of atomic changes.
Gojira first hit Japanese movie theatres in 1954 and featured a monster that had been reawakened by nuclear weapons testing. The monster symbolized the destructive potential of nuclear weapons, something Japan had experienced first hand. Although not the first kaiju*, Gojira became the example of what giant monsters, daikaiju are. The movie starts with ships being attacked at sea near Odo Island by an unknown vessel, one that disappears as quick as it appears. The investigators discover that the islanders used to sacrifice girls to a monster called Gojira to appease it. During a storm that wracks the island, more destruction occurs, far worse than accountable by the storm. This time, there is a witness who can identify the cause – Gojira!
An archaeologist discovers large radioactive footprints and a trilobite that is normally found in the depths of the sea. An alarm sounds, and the archaeologist, along with the villagers, run to the hills, only to meet Gojira himself, towering over the island. A short, desperate skirmish breaks out long enough for the villagers to get to safety. Gojira returns to the ocean.
In Tokyo, the findings are given over to a commission. Nuclear explosions are responsible for reawakening and freeing the daikaiju. A discussion about whether to reveal the monster’s existance or not later, the public is informed. The Japanese Self-Defense Force sends ships to drop depth charges. Instead of killing Gojira as planned, the charges merely attract his attention to the ships and Japan. Gojira attacks Tokyo, emerging from Tokyo Bay, leaving a trail of destruction not seen since the Allied bombing of the city. Emergency measures are put in place, including a fence of electrical towers that will give off a 50 000 volt shock when walked through and the evacuation of Tokyo. Gojira returns. The electric fence does little to slow the monster down; Gojira destroys the wires with his atomic breath. Tanks fire but can’t penetrate Gojira’s hide. Once again, Tokyo suffers under the rage of the daikaiju until he leaves in the morning.
However, Tokyo may have a chance at surviving. Daisuke Serizawa has developed the Oxygen Destroyer, a side effect of his research into cleaner energy. The Oxygen Destroyer does exactly what it says on the tin – it destroys oxygen atoms. Anything needing to breathe oxygen is left asphyxiating. Serizawa is well aware of the potential misuse of his invention, though, and is hesitant to use it. Once he sees the extent of Gojira’s destruction, he changes his mind. To be safe, he burns his notes on the Oxygen Destroyer so that they can’t be used to create more. Serizawa is taken by ship to the last known location of Gojira. Finding the monster, Serizawa activates the Oxygen Destroyer, then cuts his own oxygen cable. Both he and Gojira perish.
The implications of Gojira, that the monster is more an unstoppable act of nature caused by nuclear radiation, is woven through the movie. The military is helpless as Gojira rampages through Tokyo. The destruction is immense. Nuclear weapons testing led to Gojira’s reawakening, which in turn led to Tokyo’s destruction.
In 1956, the movie was retitled Godzilla: King of Monsters and brought over to North America. New scenes with Canadian actor Raymond Burr were added to reduce the amount of dubbing needed. Burr played an American reporter who was on the scene when Godzilla first attacked Tokyo, telling the story as a flashback. This Godzilla was then released in Japan in 1957 and was popular like the original.
Despite being an actor in a rubber suit, Godzilla moved like the giant monster he was supposed to be. Part of this came from the sheer mass of the original suit. The added verisimulitude helped win popularity, which led to Toho producing /Godzilla/ movies through to 2004. Along the way, other daikaiju either fought or teamed up with Godzilla, inluding King Kong, King Ghidorah, Mothra, and Mechagodzilla. Godzilla also served as inspiration for other giant monsters, including Gorgo and Gamera. As mentioned, Godzilla wasn’t the first giant monster, but he was the most influential. Few other daikaiju had songs written about them. Over the years, Godzilla became less a danger and more the protector of Earth, defending the planet against would-be destroyers and conquerors, including humans.
In 1992, Tri-Star picked up the rights to Godzilla with an eye on making a trilogy. The first, Godzilla, was released in 1998. It starts much the same as the original, a fish canning ship is attacked by an unknown creature and is found washed ashore, this time in the Atlantic. The US sends the military to investigate, pulling in experts in biology and paleontology, including Nick Tatopoulos. Nick, played by Matthew Broderick, was pulled from his investigation of the effects of radiation on worms in Chernobyl, Ukraine. Meanwhile, Philippe Roaché, a French insurance investigator, is also looking into the attack on the canning ship, ostensibly for purposes of insurance payout. He tracks down a survivor of the attack, who is only able to say one word, “Gojira.”
Early appearances of Godzilla are brief; the most seen of the monster are the spikes along his back. It’s only when Godzilla arrives in New York City that the audience sees him fully. Instead of being an actor in a rubber suit, the new Godzilla is rendered with CGI. Jurassic Park, originally released in 1993, helped make great strides in rendering dinosaurs with CG, and the new Godzilla benefited. However, the new Godzilla was based on iguanas and lizards, creating a new look for the giant monster. Still, New York suffered the same fate Tokyo did in the original Gojira, with massive damage to streets and buildings. And, just like the original, the military was helpless to stop the monster.
As New York is evacuated to New Jersey, Mayor Ebert tries to stay on top of matters, more to help get re-elected than anything else. During the chaos, the military loses sight of Godzilla. As blame gets thrown about, the civilian specialists work out what happened just as an Army recon squad reports that one building they checked had no more floor. Godzilla went underground. Nick comes up with an idea to get the monster back above ground to give the Army another go at him – fish. A large pile of fish is dumped near Times Square and manhole covers removed to let Godzilla smell the bait. The plan works; Godzilla breaks through the street from underneath and goes after the fish, giving time for the squadron of Apache helicopters to move in and attack. The helicopters’ missiles are useless, missing Godzilla and destroying the Chrysler Building instead. The reason – the missiles carried are heat seekers and have nothing to lock on. Being cold-blooded, Godzilla is the same temperature as his surroundings. Switching to miniguns, the Apaches pursue Godzilla through the ruins of mid-town Manhattan. The tall buildings become a maze, and the pilots lose the monster. The monster, however, did not lose the helicopters, and prey becomes predator again. Hemmed in by the towers, the helicopter pilots aren’t able to pull away* from Godzilla and are made a snack. Godzilla disappears again.
Nick makes a few calculations and realizes that the amount of fish from the canning ship, from three fishing ships that disappeared, and from the pile he had the Army make was far more food than needed. He grabs a sample of Godzilla’s blood, then finds an open pharmacy where he buys every pregnancy test available. While in the pharmacy, he runs into an old girlfriend, one who had rejected his marriage proposal. He takes her back to his tent, doubling as a lab, catching up on old times along the way. Nick finds out that his ex works at a TV station, then finds out that Godzilla may very well be pregnant, either about to lay eggs or has just laid them. The biologist runs off to warn the Army of his discovery and to perform proper tests to confirm his results.
With Nick gone, his ex, Audrey, played by Maria Pitillo, takes a tape showing the path Godzilla has taken, including footage of the survivor saying, “Gojira,” to her station. The tape is immediately placed on the air, right as Nick is trying to explain the pregnancy. Nick is kicked off the investigation. As he leaves, he meets Philippe. Nick explains the problem and gets Philippe, played by Jean Reno, on his side. Turns out, Philippe isn’t an insurance investigator; he works for the Direction génèral de la sécurité extérieure, or the French Secret Service. Philippe has been tracking the destruction from French Guyana to New York with an eye on stopping the monster. Nick, Philippe, and Philippe’s small team head into New York to look for the eggs.
Back in New Jersey, the collective armed forces of the US come up with a new plan to kill Godzilla. Once again luring him out, the Air Force directs Godzilla towards the ocean, where two submarines wait. Torpedoes are fired, but Godzilla is not only able to out-swim them, he lures them into one of the subs, destroying it. A second brace of torpedoes is fired and this time, Godzilla is hit. Mayor Ebert hears the news and starts insisting on having the evacuees returned to their homes in Manhattan. Colonel Hicks, played by Kevin Dunn, wants to confirm the death of Godzilla.
Back on the island, Nick and the French spies discover Godzilla’s nest. All of seats in the stands of Madison Square Garden have an egg, each one on the verge of hatching. As the Godzilla-lings emerge, hungry, they go after the fish and anything that smells like fish, including Nick and the French. The group makes the only rational decision possible – to run, blocking the doors to the arena. However, they’re still stuck inside the building. Fortunately, Audrey and her cameraman, Animal, were following him and know where the broadcast room is. Philippe, the sole French survivor of his team, assists in unlocking the door to the broadcast room. Audrey forces a break into the TV station’s live feed, letting the Army know where the offspring are. Nick joins her and explains the problem; Godzilla’s offspring are asexual, born pregnant, and are hungry; basically, they’re less fluffy tribbles.
Colonel Hicks calls for an air strike, giving the survivors inside Madison Square Garden six minutes to escape. It’s close, but they do get out. The baby Godzillas are derstroyed, but Godzilla returns. During the chase, where the heroes have borrowed a taxi to try to outrun a monster that can hit 80mph, Nick gets a message through to Colonel Hicks about Godzilla. A last ditch plan is made; draw out the monster to a bridge so that the Air Force can use missiles without buildings being locked on instead. The first missile strike staggers the monster; the second kills it.
The first half of the movie does a good job recreating the events of the original Gojira. The problem begins when the tone of the movie switches from “giant monster” to “action”. The original Godzilla took extreme efforts to stop; the subsequent films either have Godzilla as an act of nature, impossible to stop, or a protector, one who inflicts a lot of collateral damage. The design of the new Godzilla is closer to Repitilicus and The Beast of 20,000 Fathoms, with a touch of The Giant Gila Monster. Toho, the company that created the Godzilla franchise, has renamed the monster in the movie “Zilla”, but hasn’t completely disavowed the film.
The scene involving Zilla chasing the Apache helicopters had an odd special effects failure. Nothing wrong with Zilla’s CG. New York just looked like it was a model, as did the helicopters. Given the nature of the movie, was it an error or was it deliberate, a callback to the use of a model Tokyo and model military vehicles in Gojira? Given that the rest of the movie didn’t show any problems, the choice seems deliberate.
Godzilla has issues as an adaptation, as pointed out above. The issues, though, do really start after Zilla reaches Manhattan. Until then, it does feel like a proper adaptation of Gojira.
* Apparently, the pilots forgot that they could go in three dimensions, specifically up. The Apache has a service ceiling of about 21 000 feet, much higher than even the tallest building in New York City.
There are a lot of interesting genres, archetypes, & storytelling devices out there, some of which aren’t very well-known. Here and there, one week and then another, I’d like to describe some of the ones that I’ve grown very fond of, but which don’t seem to be well-known. Hopefully they’ll be new to you, and maybe even spark an idea.
Girls Underground
An archetype was first described by Kate Winter. It is a particular kind of Heroine’s Journey (which we’ll tackle in another week altogether) which has its origins in mythology but has really come into its own only in modern times.
Kate Winter’s website does such an excellent job of describing the archetype that I’ll just direct you to the info page on her blog rather than copy-paste it here. Fly, my readers! (more…)
