How Mothra introduced a new breed of kaiju… | Little White Lies

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How Moth­ra intro­duced a new breed of kai­ju crea­ture feature

16 Nov 2020

Words by Anton Bitel

Large brown butterfly with distinctive markings soaring against a clear blue sky.
Large brown butterfly with distinctive markings soaring against a clear blue sky.
Godzil­la cre­ator Ishi­ro Honda’s globe-trot­ting adven­ture is a strange­ly sweet fam­i­ly adventure.

In 1954, direc­tor Ishi­ro Hon­da released his black-and-white Godzil­la, Japan’s first kai­ju or mon­ster’ film. Unleashed from the ocean floor by nuclear test­ing in the Pacif­ic, this gigan­tic radi­a­tion-breath­ing lizard came to embody atom­ic anx­i­eties, and its ram­page through Tokyo direct­ly evoked the nuclear dev­as­ta­tion wrought upon Hiroshi­ma and Nagasaki.

Strik­ing a nation­al chord, the film – with its anti-war, anti-nuclear mes­sage – was a huge hit. Not only was Godzil­la repeat­ed­ly revived in a long-run­ning fran­chise that con­tin­ues to this day, but Hon­da went on to direct sim­i­lar films fea­tur­ing new pre­his­toric crea­tures (and even­tu­al­ly brought them togeth­er in titan­ic death match­es). First came his Rodan, fea­tur­ing an irra­di­at­ed pter­a­n­odon (think Godzil­la with wings), and then in 1961 there was Moth­ra, one of the weird­er titles in Honda’s kai­ju cycle.

Like the giant ape in Mer­ian C Coop­er and Ernest B Schoedsack’s King Kong, who a year lat­er Hon­da pit­ted against his star kai­ju in King Kong vs Godzil­la, Moth­ra is wor­shipped by natives on a secret island and vis­it­ed by an Amer­i­can oppor­tunist look­ing for exot­ic spec­i­mens to exhib­it on stage. Like Godzil­la, Moth­ra razes cities, and like Rodan, it is egg-born and can (even­tu­al­ly) fly, rain­ing destruc­tion from above.

Yet if all this sounds famil­iar, Moth­ra is also a gigan­tic crea­ture with a meta­mor­phic life cycle, going from egg to unstop­pable swimming/​crawling cater­pil­lar to cocoon (on a half-ruined Tokyo Tow­er!) to colos­sal moth whose wing­beats can flat­ten build­ings. Stranger still, it is in a har­mo­nious­ly sym­bi­ot­ic rela­tion­ship with the natives of Infant Island (a cast of Japan­ese actors in black­face), and in par­tic­u­lar with a pair of tiny women known as the Shobi­jin or Tiny Beau­ties’ (played by twin singers Yumi and Emi Ito) who com­mu­ni­cate with the crea­ture through telepa­thy and song. We’re not in Kansas, or even Kan­sai, anymore.

Indeed, like The Wiz­ard of Oz, Moth­ra begins with a hur­ri­cane. After a storm-tossed ship runs aground off Infant Island – a rocky out­crop said to be unin­hab­it­able after nuclear tests were con­duct­ed there – four crew­men are found alive with­out any signs of radi­a­tion sick­ness, and their tales of being helped by locals lead to the launch an expedition.

A man in a protective suit inspecting vegetation in a dark, overgrown environment.

Soon expert in Poly­ne­sian lan­guages Dr Shinichi Chu­jo (Hiroshi Koizu­mi) and jovial­ly tena­cious jour­nal­ist Zen’ichiro Fuku­da (Frankie Sakai), who sneaks aboard, find them­selves at odds with expe­di­tion leader Clark Nel­son (Jer­ry Ito), who comes from Rolisi­ca (an invent­ed com­pos­ite of Rus­sia and Amer­i­ca) and has his own secre­tive agen­da. They dis­cov­er that the island’s inte­ri­or; far from being bar­ren, is a fecund, psy­che­del­i­cal­ly colour­ful jun­gle. They also encounter the Shobi­jin there. When Nel­son abducts the diminu­tive singing pair for his the­atre show, Moth­ra hatch­es and sets out on a cat­a­stroph­ic pur­suit of its sort-of human com­pan­ions, first to Tokyo, and then to Rolisica’s New Kent City’.

Where Godzil­la is an extreme­ly som­bre affair that pro­vid­ed cathar­sis for a trau­ma­tised nation, Moth­ra comes with a com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent tone. There is char­ac­ter com­e­dy, there is an intre­pid kid (Chujo’s lit­tle broth­er Shin­ji, played by Masamit­su Taya­ma), there are the Shobi­jins song-and-dance num­bers and, in the eth­ni­cal­ly ambigu­ous Nel­son, there is the kind of vil­lain who would twirl his mous­tache if he had one, and who seems sur­re­al­ly con­tent to let entire cities be sac­ri­ficed if it will bring him small suc­cess as a the­atri­cal impre­sario. Per­haps Nel­son is intend­ed to embody and alle­gorise America’s impe­ri­al­ist rapac­i­ty, but his self­ish scheme makes lit­tle sense, and he remains a car­i­ca­ture bad­die’.

So Moth­ra is very much a fam­i­ly film, intro­duc­ing a lighter vibe that would even­tu­al­ly set­tle on Toho Studio’s mon­ster uni­verse. It has all the urban apoc­a­lypse that we expect from a kai­ju film, but there is no empha­sis on real human loss and suf­fer­ing (as there cer­tain­ly is in Godzil­la). Instead this globe-trot­ting adven­ture is strange­ly sweet and ami­able, with even the unstop­pable Moth­ra com­ing across as an odd­ly benign force of nature.

After all, it is the humans who are in the wrong here, with their nuclear tests, their unnec­es­sary aggres­sion and their acts of colo­nial pre­da­tion. Char­ac­ters like Chu­jo, Fuku­da and the press pho­tog­ra­ph­er Michi Hana­mu­ra (Kyoko Kagawa), how­ev­er, who all treat the Shobi­jin and Moth­ra with due respect, point to the pos­si­bil­i­ty of more peace­able rela­tions between humans and the nat­ur­al world.

Moth­ra is avail­able in both its Japan­ese and Eng­lish ver­sions on lim­it­ed edi­tion Blu-ray from Eure­ka! Video as part of their The Mas­ters of Cin­e­ma Series from 16 November.

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