(1961) Directed by Ishirô Honda; Written by Shin'ichi
Sekizawa; Based on the novel The Luminous Fairies and Mothra, by Shin'ichirô
Nakamura, Takehiko Fukunaga and Yoshie Hotta; Starring: Furankî “Frankie”
Sakai, Hiroshi Koizumi, Kyôko Kagawa, Yumi Itô, Emi Itô and Jerry Itô;
Available on Blu-ray and DVD
Rating ***½
“We wanted to do something that was new, for the whole
family, like a Disney or Hollywood type of picture. We wanted it to be
brighter, nicer.” – Ishirô Honda (from Ishiro Honda: A Life in Film, From
Godzilla to Kurosawa, by Steve Ryfle and Ed Godziszewski, with Yuuko
Honda-Yun)
When you create one of the most distinctive, fearsome
giant monsters of all time, how do you top it? To start with, you don’t. Seven
years after Gojira made its debut, producer Tomoyuki Tanaka and Toho
went back to the drawing board. Instead of creating a bigger, meaner rival to
the super-sized reptile, they devised a whole new class of kaiju. The resulting
movie, Mothra, is a different beast from Gojira. The titular
creature, along with its origin, is less menacing, and more fanciful. While
there’s plenty of room for social commentary, the overall tone is lighter, with
an emphasis on fantasy over widespread devastation (although the film doesn’t
skimp in that department).
After four shipwreck survivors are found alive and well
on remote Infant Island (thought uninhabitable, due to atomic testing), a
scientific expedition is launched to gather more facts. Although it’s a
Japanese vessel and crew, the expedition is bankrolled by foreign tycoon Clark
Nelson (played with great, sneering panache by Jerry Itô, billed as “Jelly” Itô
in the American version), whose motivations go beyond simple intellectual
curiosity. Sensing a story, intrepid reporter Senichiro “Zen” Fukuda (Furankî
“Frankie” Sakai) stows away on the ship. When they reach the South Pacific
isle, they discover a lush jungle and native population, including a pair of
tiny twin fairies* (played by twin sisters Yumi and Emi Itô, aka, singing
group, “The Peanuts”). Sensing an opportunity to make a quick buck (or
equivalent), Nelson abducts the twins, transplanting them to Japan to star in
his new revue, “The Secret Fairies Show.” Nelson learns too late that one of
their seemingly innocuous songs is a distress call, which carries a telepathic
link. They soon awaken an ancient creature on Infant Island, driven by an
unrelenting compulsion to bring them back home. Unfortunately for Tokyo and
anything else that’s in the way, it can only mean untold property damage and
displaced citizens.
* Fun Fact #1: According to the informative Mill Creek
Blu-ray commentary by Steve Ryfle and Ed Godziszewski, the original story
called for four 60-cm fairies, instead of the two 30-cm women that appear in
the film.
If some of the above description sounds familiar (minus
the fairies), it’s not by accident, but design that the basic plot in Mothra
parallels King Kong (1933). Director Ishirô Honda admitted to the many
similarities, but with one principal difference: unlike the film with the big
ape, his oversized moth* wasn’t destined for a tragic end. Otherwise, it’s easy
to see how many elements are similar: the expedition, an isolated island
populated by natives who worship a giant creature, an unscrupulous promoter, a
squadron of fighter jets, and a towering city landmark that becomes a centerpiece
for a key scene.
* Fun Fact #2: According to the disc commentary, Mothra’s
caterpillar stage was the largest costume ever created by Toho, measuring
approximately seven meters in length, and requiring five to six people to
operate it.
Compared to King Kong, however, Mothra is
more socio-politically conscious, reflecting some of the controversies of the
time. As originally envisioned by Honda and the writers, the film would have
been more political, but many of those elements were trimmed in favor of
entertainment. Even with the necessary compromises, the finished product still
leaves much for contemporary audiences to consider. The specter of the fictional
country of Rolisica (a thinly veiled melding of the United States and Russia)
looms over the story, with its militaristic society, imperialistic intentions, and
(paralleling U.S. nuclear testing in the South Pacific) casual attitudes toward
displacing indigenous cultures. On the other hand, Mothra dilutes its
message a bit when the Infant Island “natives” are depicted by Japanese actors
in brown-face. Cultural insensitivities aside, it’s easy to agree that the
unconscionable entrepreneur Nelson (who’s backed by the Rolisican government), is
the embodiment of all the negative aspects of outsiders, rolled into one. In
his quest to obtain the fairies for his own gain, he thinks nothing of mowing
down a group of unarmed natives with rifles. When he finally has his prize, Nelson’s
dismissive attitude is laid bare as he comments, “Those fairies aren’t human.
They’re merchandise.” *
* Not So Fun Fact: Sadly, Nelson’s abhorrent behavior is
not without precedent. His treatment of the fairies recalls human zoos, which
flourished in the late 1800s, lasting well into the mid-1900s.
In addition to Jerry Itô’s scene-stealing turn, Mothra
boasts some fine performances by the other cast members, especially Frankie
Sakai as tenacious reporter Zen, who likens himself to a snapping turtle (a bulldog
in the American version). Comic actor Sakai keeps things from getting too serious,
with some well-placed moments of schtick. Zen’s counterpart, plucky
photographer Michi Hanamura (played by veteran actress Kyôko Kagawa, in her
only kaiju film), lends balance to his scenes, keeping everything from going
too far over the top. Also watch for a blink-and-you-miss-it appearance of Honda
regular Kenji Sahara as a helicopter pilot. Arguably, the true stars of Mothra,
outside of the giant insect itself, are pop duo The Peanuts, who convey a
childlike innocence and grace under adversity. Their signature song needs no
introduction, as it’s become firmly entrenched in pop culture.
Eiji Tsuburaya and his effects crew put their all into
the film, to make the star attraction,* in its final form, a truly memorable creation.
Somewhat more refined versions of Mothra would appear in later movies, but the basic
design owes much to this early version. Other standout effects sequences
include a bursting dam, and a detailed replica of Tokyo Tower, where the
juvenile Mothra, aka: The Very Angry Caterpillar (my apologies to Eric
Carle for the cheap shot) undergoes a metamorphosis. The film’s climax,** which
takes place in the Rolisican capitol, dubiously named New Kirk City (an
amalgamation of New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles), provides another
chance for Tsubaraya to showcase his signature brand of wholesale destruction.
* Fun Fact #3: There were three Mothra models used for
the film: 1) a small version, used only for long shots, 2) a medium version,
with flexible wings; and 3) a large version with a 2.5-meter wingspan, with
more rigid wings and illuminated eyes.
** Fun Fact #4: A different ending was originally shot, which
has been presumed lost (although still frames exist). The original
cost-conscious ending, featuring a confrontation between Nelson and Mothra was
nixed by Columbia, in favor of the conclusion in an urban setting (New Kirk
City).
Some might argue there’s an awful lot of build-up before
we see the star attraction, in all its glory. The big “M” doesn’t appear, in its
final form at least, until well into the third act. Before that, we’re treated
to some shenanigans with Nelson, The Fairies, and Zen. When Mothra finally shows
up, our patience is rewarded. Minor quibbles aside, it’s a solid debut for one
of Toho’s most inspired, enduring, and yes, beautiful, creations. It’s the big
bug movie to end all big bug movies (Okay, that distinction belongs to Them,
but do you know what? Mothra is a close second.). The enduring kaiju would
live to fight another day, facing off against Godzilla in 1964’s Mothra vs. Godzilla, and appear in
numerous sequels. I anxiously await Mothra’s inevitable return.
Sources for this review: Ishiro Honda: A Life in Film, From Godzilla
to Kurosawa, by Steve Ryfle and Ed Godziszewski, with Yuuko Honda-Yun;
and Mothra Blu-ray commentary by Steve Ryfle and Ed Godziszewski
