“Attack of the…” Month Quick Picks and Pans

 

Attack the Gas Station (1999) A group of aimless Korean youths hold up a gas station for kicks, taking the employees hostage. They get more than they bargained for, however, when they inadvertently escalate a gang war. Attack the Gas Station approaches its subject with sly humor and unexpected depth, delving into the histories of the disenchanted anti-heroes. Fasten your seatbelts, and get ready for some anarchic fun. 

Rating: ***½. Available on DVD 

Attack of the Beast Creatures (1985) What do you do when you set out to make your own monster movie, but the estimate to have the monsters fabricated costs far more than the entire budget? You make your own. The results are (ahem)… well, they tried. The survivors of a doomed ocean liner in the North Atlantic, circa May 1920, end up on a seemingly uninhabited island. They soon discover deadly acid pools and a bunch of vicious little red humanoid creatures with glowing eyes and sharp teeth. Soon, they have to fight their way through a hostile forest to get back to the lifeboat. Director Michael Stanley’s no-budget made-in-Connecticut wonder is nothing, if not ambitious. It’s not good, but never fails to entertain, with bad acting, laughable effects, and unintentional humor. 

Rating: ***. Available on Blu-ray 

Gyo: Tokyo Fish Attack (2012) Takayuki Hirao’s anime adaptation of Junji Ito’s bleak manga Gyo cuts many corners, blending cell art with less effective computer-generated animation. While it’s not the best Ito adaptation, it’s far from the worst. A young woman on vacation with her friends, falls into a nightmare situation when they’re overrun by foul-smelling sea creatures with mechanical legs. She returns to an apocalyptic version of Tokyo on a quest to find her boyfriend. Gyo tries to be more “adult” with excessive fan service, which detracts from the plot. Nevertheless, the horror of Ito’s original story shines through, as humanity, paying for the sins of the fathers, is brought to the brink of extinction. 

Rating: ***. Available on DVD 

Attack of the Robots (1966) This somewhat deceptively titled spy spoof from director Jesús Franco is surprisingly competent, if a bit generic. Eddie Constantine (Alphaville) stars as retired Interpol agent Al Pereira, who’s enlisted to foil a plot to turn people into zombie assassins (controlled by a pair of special horn-rimmed glasses). Sophie Hardy provides some sizzle as Pereira’s Interpol counterpart, Cynthia Lewis, but there’s little chemistry between the two leads. There’s also some uncomfortable “Chinese” stereotypes portrayed by Spanish actor Vicente Roca as counter-spy, Lee-Wee. Look for Franco in a cameo as a nightclub pianist.   

Rating: **½. Available on Blu-ray, DVD and Tubi 

Attack of the Giant Teacher (2019) Kenzo Miyazawa (Makoto Kojima) is a night school teacher at a career crossroads, lacking energy or enthusiasm for his job. When he learns that the school is being closed down at the end of the year, he encourages his confused students to plan one final event: an Edo-period musical. Oh, and there just happens to be an insatiably hungry alien who wants to put Earth’s residents on its dinner plate. Attack of the Giant Teacher features some surprisingly colorful characters. Unfortunately, its reach far exceeds its grasp, with dreadful CGI effects and the giant teacher vs. kaiju action implied by the title doesn’t occur until the final five minutes. It probably would have been better to scrap the tokusatsu plot in favor of focusing on the dynamic of teacher and students alone, but the film has its moments. 

Rating: **½. Available on Blu-ray, DVD and Tubi

Ski Troop Attack (1960) Filmed in South Dakota with most of the same cast and crew as Beast from Haunted Cave (1959), Roger Corman’s cut-rate World War II “epic” runs just over an hour (including a heap of stock footage). A small ragtag bunch of American soldiers led by the gung-ho Lt. Factor (Michael Forest) attempt to destroy a bridge, deep inside enemy territory. It’s pretty standard stuff, down to the soldier who can’t wait to get back home (Guess what happens to him?). For Corman completists only. 

Rating: **. Available on Blu-ray, DVD and Tubi

 

Attack of the Killer Refrigerator (1990) Shot on VHS for what looks like $50 (folks, this isn’t the movie to showcase your 4K TV), this horror spoof takes place during the course of one evening in a suburban house. After partying young people scrape the ice out of a refrigerator, the (wounded?) kitchen appliance is out for revenge, picking off the residents and guests one by one – and that’s about it. The short film only runs 16 minutes, so you don’t have much time to be bored. 

Rating: *½. Available on Blu-ray

Attack of the 50 Foot Woman

 

(1958) Directed by Nathan Juran (Credited as Nathan Hertz); Written by Mark Hanna; Starring: Allison Hayes, William Hudson, Yvette Vickers, Roy Gordon, George Douglas and Ken Terrell; Available on Blu-ray and DVD 

Rating: ***½

Thanks to Rebecca from Taking Up Room for hosting another edition of the So Bad It’s Good Blogathon, a celebration of the movies that defy conventional criticism, bringing us joy despite their (ahem) shortcomings. Be sure to drop by her website for links to all the participants’ posts about bad movies and the folks who love them. With this in mind, I humbly present to you, dear reader, the crème de la crap of bad movies, Attack of the 50 Foot Woman…

“Every woman in Hollywood thought I was a husband stealer; I mean, everyone. I would walk into a party or any event and the women would literally grab their husbands and run the other way, and I always thought, if they’re that dense in Hollywood, where in the world would I go?” – Yvette Vickers (from DVD commentary) 

Honey Parker (Yvette Vickers): “You're the deputy, do something!”

Deputy Charlie (Frank Chase): “I can't shoot a lady!”  

Adjacent to the Cold War scares of alien invasions, 1950s audiences were constantly reminded of the real and perceived dangers of radiation. B-filmmakers made every effort to exploit its deleterious effects on people and creatures. Nathan Juran* was no stranger to directing movies about giant things. Besides his work with Ray Harryhausen (20 Million Miles to Earth and The 7^th Voyage of Sinbad), he directed several television episodes for producer Irwin Allen (including Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, Lost in Space, and Land of the Giants). Not content to let men have a monopoly on super-sized people, Juran and company set their sights on the fairer sex with Attack of the 50 Foot woman. Under the penny-pinching scrutiny of Woolner Brothers Pictures, Juran shot around the greater Los Angeles area** in just eight days. 

* Fun Fact #1: Before he directed films, Juran made his name as an art director, winning an Academy Award for How Green Was My Valley (1941). 

** Fun Fact: #2: Nancy and Harry Archer’s mansion featured in the film was a real home, located in the Hollywood Hills.

 

Amidst a glut of worldwide UFO sightings (inexplicably, the film avoids using the labels “UFO” or “flying saucer,” instead referring to the mystery object as a “satellite”), a spherical alien craft makes its presence known in the desert outskirts of a small California town.* Unfortunately for faded socialite Nancy Archer, she’s the sole witness to the unusual event, when the craft’s occupant makes a grab for her diamond necklace.** Wallowing in an endless, self-perpetuating spiral of depression and alcoholism, she’s become the laughingstock of the town. Because of the money she brings into the local economy, Sheriff Dubbitt (George Douglas) does his best to placate Nancy and humor her claim of a close encounter. If her compromised credibility isn’t enough, she must contend with the town’s worst-kept secret – Nancy’s gold-digging husband Harry is two-timing her with the salacious Honey Parker (Yvette Vickers), who lives in a dingy flophouse above Tony’s Bar. Nancy doesn’t have far to look to find her wayward husband. Considering the apparent size of the town and her husband’s predilection towards boozing it up and dancing, it narrows the choices considerably. She returns to the desert with her doubting husband, proving her assertion about the extraterrestrial visitor. Harry abandons her in the desert instead of admitting she was right all along (You’d think his first-hand UFO sighting would have made more of an impact than simply being a convenient way to get rid of her, but he was obviously thinking with his “other” brain). Nancy manages to return home, but she’s so visibly shaken that she’s immediately placed under a doctor’s care.*** Egged on by Honey, Harry schemes to administer a fatal overdose of medication. But hell hath no fury like a 50-foot woman scorned, and Nancy isn’t about to take this lying down. As is usually the case with sci-fi movies from the era, prepare for a cockamamie explanation involving a combination of radiation and stress (I surmise) that causes her subsequent rapid growth. 

* Fun Fact #3: In the original script, the town was Calabasas, but it’s never specified in the movie. 

** Yes, if a money-grubbing husband wasn’t enough, even space aliens want her diamond. 

*** On a side note, you’ve gotta love the screaming nurse trope, expertly illustrated by Eileen Stevens in the film. I understand that one doesn’t see a woman enlarged to monstrous proportions every day, but c’mon, show some professionalism.

Allison Hayes deserves special mention for her sympathetic portrayal of the chronically depressed (euphemistically categorized as “exhaustion” in the movie) Nancy Archer, who’s trapped in a loveless marriage and coddled by everyone else like a petulant child. The only person in Nancy’s life who seems to genuinely care about her is her faithful butler Jess Stout (Ken Terrell), who regards her husband with thinly veiled disdain. It’s easy to see that Vickers* was having the time of her life, playing the amoral home-wrecker Honey, who vacillates from being sugary sweet to icily ruthless, frequently in the same scene. Frank Chase provides some intentional comic relief to the proceedings as the bumbling sheriff’s deputy Charlie, who isn’t above a bribe or two, to keep things quiet. Besides his consistently goofy demeanor, he has the honor of delivering one of the movie’s best lines (see above). 

* Fun Fact #4: In the scene where the rampaging Nancy Archer trashes Tony’s Bar, Honey is crushed by a heavy wooden beam. Vickers commented that she narrowly avoided disaster when a large nail sticking out of the beam came within inches of her neck.

 The not-so-special-effects* are laughable, even by 1950s standards. Thanks to some slapdash matte effects, the spherical UFO, as well as the giant characters, are see-through (Then again, Nancy’s motives are rather transparent – drum beat, please). There’s also an enormous floppy hand, used alternately for the giant alien and enlarged Nancy (at one point an actor has to help it grab him). In a later scene, when Nancy lifts Harry in the air, it’s obviously a doll that someone purchased off a toy store shelf. Likewise, the costume budget seemingly couldn’t avoid cost-cutting measures, with the giant bald alien visitor** wearing medieval-esque garb (including the likeness of a bull on his back) that was likely repurposed from another movie. 

* Fun Fact #5: In all fairness, the film’s effects budget was always a sore point with Juran, who fought with the producers for more money – but ultimately lost. According to film historian Tom Weaver, who watched the director speak at a convention, Juran was still irritated by the slight, four decades later. 

** Fun Fact #6: Tony the barkeep and the somewhat perplexed giant alien were played by the same actor, Michael Ross.

Despite the movie’s inevitable tragic ending, I imagine some alternate universe version of Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, where the giant Mr. Clean alien is so smitten by her, she willingly accompanies him into his spaceship, and they fly off together to his home planet and live happily ever after (I guess I’m just a romantic at heart). The Warner Archive DVD features a fun commentary by star Yvette Vickers (along with Tom Weaver), who provides some nice insight about the making of the film and her acting career in general. Blending melodrama with sci-fi hokum and a sympathetic anti-heroine, Attack of the 50 Foot Woman is a cautionary tale for would-be philandering partners everywhere. If there’s the equivalent of the Academy Awards for superior bad movies, this movie would proudly stand at the top of the heap. 

* Not-So-Fun-Fact: On a sad note, Ms. Vickers passed away only a few years after her DVD commentary. For those with morbid curiosity, you can learn about the strange and macabre details surrounding Vickers’ death here. 

 

Sources for this article: DVD commentary by Yvette Vickers and Tom Weaver (2007)

 

 

Short Take: Attack of the Puppet People

 

(1958) Directed by Bert I. Gordon; Written by George Worthing Yates and Bert I. Gordon; Starring: John Agar, John Hoyt, June Kenney, Michael Mark, Jack Kosslyn, Marlene Willis, Ken Miller and Laurie Mitchell; Available on Blu-ray and DVD 

Rating: **½ 

“It’s a tongue-in-cheek production aimed at teenagers, with light and humorous elements included to offset some of its more terrifying aspects.” – Bert I. Gordon (Excerpt from Famous Monsters of Filmland, No 14, 1958) 

Where would ‘50s sci-fi be without Bert I. Gordon (B.I.G.)? As a purveyor of films with super-sized people and creatures (an obsession that lasted well into the ‘70s), size always makes a difference in B.I.G.’s world. After gracing the silver screen with giant locusts, a colossal man and a cyclops,* it was only a matter of time before he veered off into the opposite direction, exploring the possibilities of miniaturization with Attack of the Puppet People. 

* Fun Fact #1: In many theaters, Attack of the Puppet People played on a double-bill with another B.I.G. title, War of the Colossal Beast (1958).

Mild-mannered Mr. Franz (John Hoyt) runs a modest dollmaking business, “Dolls Incorporated,” where he creates lifelike figures, much to the delight of kids everywhere.  But Mr. Franz has a side-project that he keeps locked away in a secret workroom, concealed from prying eyes. Like all employers, he has to contend with attrition, but the Department of Labor would probably frown upon his coping mechanism. When his new receptionist Sally Reynolds (June Kenney) and traveling salesman Bob Westley (John Agar)* decide to elope, he ensures they won’t get very far, by shrinking them to doll size** and adding them to his private collection.   

* Fun Fact #2: Watch for a bit of shameless self-promotion from B.I.G., in the scene where Sally and Bob enjoy a drive-in movie while discussing their relationship plans: Gordon’s own The Amazing Colossal Man (1957). 

** Fun Fact #3: Most of the oversized (albeit inconsistently scaled) props were created by the husband/wife team of Paul and Jackie Blaisdell.

Ever since his wife left him for another man years ago, Mr. Franz has been haunted by the prospect of being alone the rest of his life. Instead of joining a club or embarking on a singles cruise, he decides to create his own friends. The movie never clarifies how a career in dollmaking would prepare Mr. Franz to build a shrinking machine, but there you have it. As one would expect, the science is dubious at best: He likens the invention to a projector that makes an image larger or smaller, aided by high frequency waves.* A groundbreaking discovery such as this would be worthy of a Nobel prize, but he uses it solely to create his private fiefdom, storing the miniature people in cylinders. Eventually, the trail of missing people leads to his business, with his non-confrontational nature proving to be his undoing. His plans are ultimately thwarted by his annoying old friend Emil (Michael Mark), a snooping detective (Jack Kosslyn) and a plucky brownie scout who can’t seem to keep her doll’s head attached. 

* Fun Fact #4: In an intriguing but abandoned concept from the original script, Mr. Franz keeps cylinders of his rejects (blurred and distorted shrunken people), the result of failing to focus his machine properly, as a constant reminder of his mistakes.

The film’s title* is a misnomer, since it isn’t the puppet people that are doing the attacking, but the puppeteer himself. As an antagonist, Mr. Franz is rather anemic, seemingly more pathetic than menacing (His troubles probably could have been averted by therapy, creating boundaries, and learning to say “No” on a regular basis, but what would the fun be in that?). Although Puppet People** may not rank among Gordon’s better efforts, it’s fair to state that without B.I.G., the 1950s would have been appreciably less silly. After he directed the last film in his American International contract, Earth vs. the Spider (1958), B.I.G. claimed in an interview it was his last sci-fi/horror movie. Thankfully, for B-movie fans everywhere, his obsession with supersized creatures didn’t end there, as he later graced the silver screen with Village of the Giants (1965), The Food of the Gods (1976), and Empire of the Ants (1977). 

* Fun Fact #5: For the record, the movie’s original title was The Fantastic Puppet People. 

** Fun Fact #6: The film was shot by cinematographer Ernest Laszlo, who would go on to win an Academy award for Ship of Fools (1965) as well as an Oscar nomination for Fantastic Voyage (1966).

 

Source for this article: DVD commentary by Tom Weaver

 

 

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes

 

(1978) Directed by John De Bello; Written by Costa Dillon, John De Bello and J. Stephen Peace; Starring: Cindy Charles, David Miller, Eric Christmas, J. Stephen Peace and Sharon Taylor; Available on Blu-ray and DVD 

Rating: ***

“…People often ask me how did I come up with this idea for killer tomatoes, and I can actually remember, they used to show Saturday afternoon science fiction/horror movies on regular TV before cable, watching Attack of the Mushroom People, a wonderful Japanese film that I later determined was not a documentary… It was supposed to be a horror movie, and I thought what could actually be sillier than that – mushroom people? And for some reason tomatoes popped up first.” – Costa Dillon (co-writer/actor) (from 2003 DVD commentary) 

The 1970s were the golden era of disaster and “nature strikes back” movies, making audiences afraid to visit skyscrapers, go to the beach, or enjoy a transatlantic cruise. During that tumultuous decade, virtually anything that could be exploited as a threat was depicted on the silver screen, no matter how unlikely or ridiculous. If sharks, rats, rabbits and even worms could pose a threat to humanity’s existence, then why not common household produce? Taking this loopy premise to its illogical conclusion, director/co-writer John De Bello and his partners in crime set out to produce their disaster comedy on an estimated budget of $90,000.* 

* Fun Fact #1: The helicopter crash featured in the movie was the real thing. The individuals involved in the crash thankfully walked away (and even managed some ad libs), so the filmmakers kept the scene in the film. De Bello joked that the wrecked helicopter cost more than the rest of the movie.       

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes is not so much a story as a string of gags. Following several unprovoked attacks on U.S. citizens, the country’s top minds assemble to assess the emerging tomato threat.* They enlist bumbling federal investigator Mason Dixon (David Miller) accompanied by his equally inept sidekick Lt. Wilbur Finletter (played by co-writer J. Stephen Peace), to help stamp out the red menace. ** They’re followed by a snooping reporter (Sharon Taylor), who’s egged on by her editor to use her feminine wiles to get a scoop. When things appear to be at their worst, the authorities discover a novel solution to combat the tomato menace: an insipid pop song*** that proves to be lethal (If this sounds familiar, the idea was recycled, either intentionally or via the collective unconscious, by Tim Burton in 1996’s Mars Attacks!). For the climactic showdown at San Diego Stadium (now Qualcomm Stadium), the filmmakers must have called everyone they knew (and probably pulled some random folks off the street), including a cameo by the famous San Diego Chicken mascot. 

* Fun Fact #2: If the scene where the government officials gather in an impossibly tiny, cramped room looks familiar, your eyes aren’t deceiving you. De Bello admitted that he copied a scene from the Marx Brothers classic, A Night at the Opera (1935). 

** Fun Fact #3: For the scenes where tomatoes needed to splat against glass, the filmmakers used boiled tomatoes. 

*** Fun Fact #4: The infectiously awful song “Puberty Love” was sung by a young Matt Cameron (listed in the credits as “Foo” Cameron), who went on to become the drummer for Soundgarden and Pearl Jam.

The comedic elements in the movie (ranging from the merely tasteless to downright offensive) are of the “let’s throw it at the wall and see what sticks” variety, so it’s inevitably a hit-and-miss affair. While the jokes never quite rise above sophomoric, the obnoxious junior high schooler in me still finds parts of it funny (like the war cry of the angry tomatoes, which at least to my ears, sounds like an incoherent, meth-addled Porky Pig). Another inspired gag is a Japanese scientist (Paul Oya) whose voice is badly dubbed (a nod to kaiju films that played on TV in the ‘60s and ‘70s). In one of the best moments, a government spy (Gary Smith) infiltrates the tomatoes’ command center, disguised as a tomato, but makes a fatal error by asking for someone to pass the ketchup. And who can forget the earworm-worthy title song? Rest easy, because even if you don’t want it there, it’ll be firmly planted in your brain. Unsurprisingly, not all the jokes have worn well. The aforementioned Japanese scientist becomes the butt of a Pearl Harbor joke, there’s an East German female athlete who imbibes steroids, and a homophobic slur is used as a punchline. 

* Fun Fact #5: Twin Peaks fans will want to keep an eye out for a very young Dana Ashbrook in a sailboat scene. 

** Fun Fact #6: The explosions for the film were created by special effects professional Greg Auer, who lent his talents to numerous projects, including Star Wars, The Hills Have Eyes, and Carrie.

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes has an undeserved reputation for being one of the “worst” movies ever made, but it’s not even close. To paraphrase Roger Ebert, the worst sin a movie can commit is to be boring. Given the “everything but the kitchen sink”* approach, this movie is far from dull (Scatterbrained, amateurish and puerile, but not boring). Some movies, such as this one can’t be labeled “good” and “bad,” but something in-between that defies categorization. Considering the modest budget and slapped-together nature of the film, applying the same metric as one would to Oppenheimer or Lawrence of Arabia to evaluate Attack of the Killer Tomatoes doesn’t seem to be quite fair.* If nothing else, John De Bello’s film, was ahead of its time, warning us about the perils of genetically modified organisms. It spawned three belated sequels, but consider the first movie the last word in homicidal fruit. 

* Note: For those keeping score, a kitchen sink is featured prominently in the opening scene. 

** Nonsensical Tangent: While I’m on the subject of “good” and “bad” films, why are terrible (albeit fun) movies often called “The Citizen Kane of bad movies?” Shouldn’t they be compared to similarly entertaining bad films (i.e., “The Plan 9 from Outer Space of bad movies”)? 

 

Source for this article: MVD Blu-ray commentary by John De Bello, Costa Dillon and J. Steve Peace (2003)

 

Japan-uary XIV Quick Picks and Pans

 

Welcome Back, Mr. McDonald (1997) Writer/director Kôki Mitani’s nutty comedy (based on a play by Mitani and Tokyo Sunshine Boys) takes place over one night in a Japanese radio station where everything can and does go wrong. After winning a contest to have her radio play performed, a young housewife’s elation gives way to regret. Small edits devolve to big changes (including changing the main character at the behest of an-over-the-hill diva), until her original script is unrecognizable. The eccentric characters are brought to life, thanks to the excellent cast’s delightfully manic performances. Watch it if you can find it. 

Rating: ****. Available on DVD (Out of Print) 

The Snow Woman (1968) Based on the same tale (“The Yuki Onna,” by Lafcaido Hearn) that served as the source material for the “Yuki-Onna” segment in Kwaidan (1964), The Snow Woman expands upon the story and provides some genuine chills (pun intended). While two woodcutters take shelter from a brutal snowstorm, something lurks in the darkness. A beautiful supernatural snow woman kills the elder woodcutter, but spares his apprentice, with the warning that she’ll kill the younger man if he ever tells anyone about what occurred. The apprentice reluctantly becomes the master when he’s commissioned to carve a statue of Buddha for his village, but he faces adversity from an arrogant rival. His new wife is loving and supportive, but there’s something off about her. Creepy in parts and surprisingly touching, The Snow Woman is not to be missed. 

Rating: ****. Available on Blu-ray (part of the Daiei Gothic box set)

We Are Little Zombies (2019) Four kids in their early teens meet by chance at their parents’ respective cremations. The freshly minted orphans form a friendship, based on their shared lack of emotion for their recent tragedies, and disdain for society’s expectations. They become surprise celebrities when their impromptu band becomes a hit. Told through the youths’ perspective (and a handheld video game), writer/director Makoto Nagahisa’s unique tragi-comedy explores performative parenthood, processing childhood grief, and the ephemeral nature of fame. 

Rating: ****. Available on Blu-ray, DVD and Kanopy 

Caterpillar (2010) Set in 1940, a Japanese soldier (Shima Ônishi) arrives home to a hero’s welcome, but he’s horribly disfigured. With a scarred face, inability to speak, and missing all four limbs, the burden falls upon his wife (Shinobu Terajima) to tend to his every need. Despite his status as a “War God,” however, he’s reduced to a miserable empty shell. While his suffering wife immerses herself in his care, she loses more and more of her identity. Kôji Wakamatsu’s film (based on a Rampo Edogawa tale) is well-made and well-acted, but if you’re not depressed before you see, you’ll likely be afterwards. You might want to watch this with a My Neighbor Totoro chaser, just to clear the palate.   

Rating: ****s. Available on DVD (Region 2) 

Before We Vanish (2017) Director/co-writer Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s meditation (based on a play by Tomohiro Maekawa) on what it is to be human is told through the warped lens of three extraterrestrial visitors, inhabiting the bodies of earthlings. Their mission is to collect concepts (such as “family,” “property,” etc…) to better understand the human species before they launch a full-scale invasion. One of the aliens, assuming the body of an estranged husband (Ryûhei Matsuda), enlists the aid of his wife (Masami Nagasawa) as a “guide” to help navigate the complexities of interactions and relationships. Thoughtful and decidedly low-key, Before We Vanish celebrates what it means to be human. 

Rating: ***½. Available on Blu-ray (Region B), DVD and Tubi

Mind Game (2004) After his life is snuffed out by a trigger-happy Yakuza enforcer, 20-year-old slacker Nishi (voiced by Kôji Imada) is given the opportunity to relive the fateful event, albeit with a different outcome. The next time around, he endeavors to establish a meaningful relationship with his childhood sweetheart, Myon (Sayaka Maeda). Filled with unique visuals (thanks in part to the use of mixed media), Masaaki Yuasa and Kôji Morimoto seem to be playing by their own rules, with an anime film that’s a treat for the eyes and the intellect. 

Rating: ***½. Available on Blu-ray and DVD   

The Great Yokai War: Guardians (2021) Takashi Miike’s belated follow-up to his enjoyable The Great Yokai War (2005) is a big disappointment – a stale rehash without the heart. It shows promise in the early scenes, as we’re introduced to young brothers Kei and Dai (Kokoro Terada and Rei Inomata), who share some nice scenes with various yokai. Unfortunately, it runs out of steam long before it hits the midpoint, due to mediocre CGI effects (including a lackluster CGI villain). If you need your yokai fix, you’re much better served by Miike’s original film or the Daiei yokai trilogy that inspired it. 

Rating: **½. Available on Blu-ray and DVD

Warning from Space

 

(1956) Directed by Kôji Shima; Written by Hideo Oguni; Story by Gentaro Nakajima; Starring: Keizô Kawasaki, Toyomi Karita, Bin Yagisawa, Shôzô Nanbu, Bontarô Miake, Mieko Nagai and Isao Yamagata; Available on Blu-ray and DVD

Rating: **½

“It’s a distant planet, lying way beyond the scope of your observatories. From our planet, we saw many atomic clouds on Earth, so we destroyed our research into Urium. Our physicists developed a much safer form of energy, and Paira’s culture has greatly benefited from the resulting peace. But the misuse of nuclear weapons now threatens the very existence of Earth. Centuries ago, the Pairans came close to nuclear catastrophe themselves, but we were wise. And with unlimited safe power, our culture progressed rapidly. Only one country on Earth has experienced the terror and destruction of atomic war, and that country is Japan.” – Ginko (Toyomi Karita) 

Japanese film has become such an integral part of the American pop culture landscape, it’s difficult to imagine there was a time, not so long ago, when this wasn’t the case. Godzilla (aka: Gojira) (1954) opened the floodgates for Japanese genre movies in the U.S., albeit dubbed and re-edited a couple of years later as Godzilla: King of the Monsters. While the rest is history, some movies got lost in the shuffle. Warning from Space (aka: Uchûjin Tôkyô ni arawaru, or Spacemen Appear in Tokyo) (1956), the first full-color science fiction film from Japan,*/**enjoyed a successful run in its native country, but only saw a limited theatrical release elsewhere in the world. By the time it eventually debuted in the United States in the early ‘60s, it was unceremoniously dumped on television. 

* Fun Fact #1: Daiei Studios’ Warning from Space preceded rival studio Toho’s Rodan by nearly a year (which premiered in December 1956). 

** Fun Fact #2: Nijiotoko (aka: Rainbow Man) (1949), considered one of the first Japanese sci-fi films, included a color sequence, which is now thought to be lost.

Japanese scientists are baffled by reports of flying saucers and their crew – a race of beings known as the Pairans.* While they continue to debate their existence with overeager reporters, Planet R hurtles through the cosmos, on a collision course with Earth. Japanese authorities eventually convince multiple nations to combine their nuclear might to destroy the threat. When that fails, humanity’s last hope lies with one researcher, Dr. Matsuda (Isao Yamagata) possesses the formula for “Urium,” a substance with the potential to be a virtually limitless power source or a devastating weapon. As the threat looms closer, causing catastrophic changes to the environment, can humanity get its act together in time? Perhaps with a little help from its new friends, the Pairans… 

* Fun Fact #3: The unworldly sound effect heralding the appearance of the Pairans was later recycled by Daiei for Gamera’s flying scenes.

Considering writer Hideo Oguni’s impressive filmography,* the story is surprisingly messy, filled with paper-thin characters and plot threads that don’t go anywhere. Instead of one protagonist, we have three elderly scientists. There’s a weird subplot about Dr. Matsuda being kidnapped by thugs for his secret formula (never mind that the world is about to end), until the Pairans arbitrarily reveal that they have the ability to track his whereabouts. Another weird thread, introduced early on, then dropped, is whether Dr. Kamura’s daughter Taeko (Mieko Nagai) will settle down and marry her boyfriend (Spoiler Alert: Nope, but it never becomes a significant plot point). Even the all-powerful substance, Urium, seems to be a lackluster plot device. Pairans have traveled vast distances to arrive on Earth, suggesting a civilization far in advance of their human counterparts. They supposedly abandoned research in Urium so they could carry on more peaceful pursuits, but it only makes me wonder why they weren’t capable of developing some other means of deflecting an errant celestial body (On a side note, did James Cameron get the idea for his own MacGuffin, “Unobtanium” from this film? The world may never know…). 

* Fun Fact #4: Oguni is probably best known today for his many collaborations with Akira Kurosawa, including the scripts for Ikiru (1952), Seven Samurai (1954) and Ran (1985).

If nothing else, Warning from Space’s claim to fame is a distinctive one: the starfish-shaped beings, the Pairans.* Whether you think they’re unique or profoundly silly (judging by the awkward look of the costumes, mobility isn’t a priority), they leave an indelible impression. After making a big splash (literally) in Tokyo Bay and a nearby lake,** freaking out half the population of Japan in the process, the Pairans wise up and assume the appearance of two humans: an attractive singer, Hikari Aozora (Toyomi Karita) and a man (Bin Yagisawa). Concluding that perhaps their visage is a little too unsettling for humans and their feeble brains to comprehend, two of the extraterrestrials have the following exchange: 

Pairan #1: As soon as they see us, they scatter in fear, as if they had seen something monstrous. 

Pairan #2: What? Are we considered hideous? Are they more beautiful than us? 

Pairan #1: No. Examine this. This is what they consider a beautiful woman (Pairans view image of Hikari Aozora). 

Pairan #2: This is their concept of beauty? It has a very large lump in the center of its face. 

* Fun Fact #5: The funky, fanciful design of the Pairans can be attributed to Japanese surrealist Taro Okamoto. 

** Fun Fact #6: Look for future director Noriaki Yuasa (who helmed many of Daiei’s Gamera films) in a bit part as an onlooker by a lake.

Warning from Space provides ample evidence that “first” doesn’t necessarily mean best, but if nothing else, it’s a painfully earnest sci-fi disaster film. As the Rodney Dangerfield of Japanese science fiction movies, it doesn’t get much respect these days, although that doesn’t mean it doesn’t merit at least a watch. The film’s “Earth in crisis” theme, likely influenced by When Worlds Collide (1951), became a popular motif for subsequent Japanese science fiction movies, including Gorath (1962) and The Green Slime (1968). If you’re a disaster freak like me, it’s a trope that never gets old.

 

Sources for this article: Blu-ray commentary by Stuart Galbraith IV

  

 

Goke, Body Snatcher from Hell

(1968) Directed by Hajime Satô; Written by Kyûzô Kobayashi and Susumu Takaku; Starring: Teruo Yoshida, Tomomi Satô, Hideo Kô, Masaya Takahashi, Nobuo Kaneko, Eizô Kitamura, Yûko Kusunoki, Kazuo Katô and Kathy Horan; Available on DVD (included in the Criterion Eclipse set, “When Horror Came to Shochiku”) 

Rating: ***½ 

“There’s a theory that aliens actually exist… That somewhere, in this vast universe, there are creatures far more advanced than human beings. According to this theory, it’s only a matter of time before these highly intelligent beings set their sights on planet Earth. The flying saucers sighted around the world have been reconnaissance missions before an attack, yet people refuse to believe an attack is on the way. They deny the existence of extraterrestrials. They’d rather fight their wretched wars, hating and killing one another. We’re so busy killing each other that aliens have a golden opportunity to attack. Mankind is foolishly oblivious to the danger. The Gokemidoro are right. With things as they are, humanity’s annihilation is inevitable.” – Toshiyuki Saga, the scientist (Masaya Takahashi)

If we were attacked by a hostile alien intelligence, would humanity band together to face the threat, or would we succumb to our petty squabbles and differences? Goke, Body Snatcher from Hell suggests the latter, in its portrayal of a microcosm of society under duress. Director Hajime Satô* (probably best known for 1966’s The Golden Bat), along with writers Kyûzô Kobayashi and Susumu Takaku, crafted a profoundly bleak, discomforting vision of humanity in a pressure cooker. 

Fun Fact #1: Before he became a filmmaker, Satô prepared for a career in economics.

A small airliner enroute to Osaka receives a bomb threat, forcing its crew to return to their point of origin. Once again, however, they are made to change course by a hijacker (Hideo Kô) (Yes, friends, there’s a bomber and a hijacker). Things turn from bad to worse when the crew encounter a UFO, which causes one of the engines to flame out, while the instruments go haywire. The plane crashes in a remote region, but the survivors are unable to call for help, due to a smashed radio. Among the survivors thrown into the mix are Japanese senator Gôzô Mano (Eizô Kitamura), arms dealer Tokuyasu (Nobuo Kaneko), a teen, would-be bomber, and Mrs. Neal (Kathy Horan),* an American woman traveling to a U.S. air base, to retrieve her husband’s remains. First officer Sugisaka (Teruo Yoshida) and flight attendant Kazumi Asakura (Tomomi Satô) try to help the survivors and restore order to the ensuing chaos. Their problems are compounded by the realization they have no idea where they are, with no means of contacting the outside world. Meanwhile, outside the wreckage, a sinister extraterrestrial force, the Gokemidoro, take control of the hijacker’s body, transforming him into a bloodsucking fiend.   

* Fun Fact #2: American-born Kathy Horan was an ex-Air Force brat who worked as a model and actress in Japan. She enjoyed a brief film and television career from 1966 to 1969, before returning to the States. In addition to Goke, Horan appeared in genre favorites King Kong Escapes (1967), Genocide (1968), and Latitude Zero (1969).

Goke illustrates how people’s true natures are revealed through adversity. Senator Mano is only interested in his re-election, no matter the cost, while the obsequious war profiteer Tokuyasu, attempts to curry the senator’s favor by offering his wife Noriko (Yûko Kusunoki) in the bargain. When asked why he initiated a threat, the teen bomber replies simply, “‘Cause the world’s a boring place.” All this aberrant behavior is a petri dish for the psychiatrist. Rather than regarding himself as an unwitting participant, he views the ensuing drama with clinical detachment. No one emerges unscathed. The film suggests that Japan itself is a victim of the current state of affairs. Its residents witnessed nuclear devastation first-hand (one character links the bombing of Hiroshima to the appearance of flying saucers), only to be caught in the crosshairs of a global cold war between two superpowers. The omnipresent threat of widespread nuclear annihilation is further compounded by the United States’ involvement in the Vietnam war (represented by the Mrs. Neal character).  

During the 1960s, there was a brief period when Japanese genre films, particularly those from Shochiku, purveyed an especially dark, apocalyptic vision. While all the films in the Criterion Eclipse box set are well worth seeking out, despite a condescending write-up by Sight and Sound’s Michael Atkinson, Goke, the crown jewel of the collection, is not so easily dismissed. Despite its unrelentingly bleak vision, you’re unable to take your eyes away. Generally overlooked by mainstream critics, it’s remained only a footnote in Japanese cinema (if it's mentioned at all), but it’s long overdue for reassessment by modern audiences. Hajime Satô’s film takes a dim view of humanity and how a group of disparate individuals would deal with a crisis (Spoiler: not well). Because of hatred, widespread violence, and self-serving behavior, society is being torn apart bit by bit, leaving us vulnerable to attack. Goke, Body Snatcher from Hell reminds us that we are our worst enemy – to borrow an insightful line from Walt Kelly’s classic Pogo comic strip, “We have met the enemy, and he is us.” 

 

Sources for this article: “Apocalypse Wow!” by Chuck Stephens (essay in the Eclipse box set, “When Horror Came to Shochiku”); “Shochiku’s Schlock Wave,” by Michael Atkinson, Sight and Sound (January 2013); “Reflections of Miss Airlifter! Kathy Horan Remembers Her Acting andModeling Career in Japan!” by Brett Homenick, Vantage Point Interviews (2006)