Editorials
‘Godzilla vs. Hedorah’ Is a Creative High Point for the Franchise [Horrors Elsewhere]
After coming up against Mothra, Ghidorah and King Kong, Godzilla was primed and ready to take on the most challenging enemy in his career so far — pollution. The last stretch of Godzilla’s Shōwa period kicked off with an environmentally conscious entry in the spirit of the 1954 film. And, as to be expected from a franchise founded on an allegory for nuclear times, the best way to address any kind of prevalent problem in the world of Godzilla is to turn it into a terrible monster.
The villain of 1971’s Godzilla Versus Hedorah feels straight out of a ‘50s Hollywood creature-feature, given this strange kaijū landed on Earth by way of a comet. But unlike the titular alien in The Blob, Hedorah feeds on industrial pollution as opposed to humans. This sounds like a perfect way to combat one of life’s greatest ills, except for the fact that Hedorah will poison everyone in the long run. So after battling other giant freaks of nature throughout the ‘60s, Godzilla was pitted against a monstrosity unlike anything seen before in the series. And similar to Godzilla, Hedorah was the direct result of man’s misdeeds.
Hedorah is an imposing assemblage of both the weird and the earthly; this grotesque hybrid brings with it a sense of cosmic horror so rarely seen in Godzilla. Hedorah summons a sort of madness in man, due to its unpredictability and vague origin. And the monster’s triphibian attributes — it swims, it flies, it walks! — make it godlike and inescapable. Apart from its otherworldly presence, Hedorah’s abstract character design is contrary to everything shown up to this point in the series. A suggestive eye shape, a mucky texture, and an amorphous physique all bolster Hedorah’s unsettling character.
Nearly every one of these kinds of films starts off with a horrifying encounter, fatal or otherwise, between human and monster. Godzilla Versus Hedorah is no different, yet director Yoshimitsu Banno goes that extra mile when conveying unease. Those first meetings with the antagonist are nothing short of horror trends later found in Jaws and its imitators. As his father examines the seafloor for more evidence of Hedorah’s growing presence, the story’s child protagonist, Ken (Hiroyuki Kawase), is caught off guard while poking at dead crabs and clams on the shore. The horrific sea creature from the news quickly cuts through the water before emerging like a flying fish. Ken may have very well delayed Hedorah’s advent by piercing its soft underbelly with a knife, but his father, Dr. Yano (Akira Yamauchi), is less fortunate in his own run-in with Hedorah. The panic of these two parallel scenes is then topped off by a chilling moment of uncertainty as Ken awaits his father’s return.
The success of most Godzilla films is dependent on their individual set pieces, and the ones in Hedorah amount to some of the most striking in the entire Shōwa timeline. From Hedorah’s initial landfall to a trippy nightclub scene, Banno wastes no time establishing his directorial style. The ashen battle between the Smog Monster and Godzilla is juxtaposed with lively go-go dancing, a musical plea for Earth’s salvation, and a character’s indelible hallucination of fish-headed patrons dancing like the world is ending. When everything starts to feel like a bad acid trip, Banno sobers everyone up with Hedorah’s collateral damage. This includes hapless civilians drowning in sludge, a slathered cat mewing for help, and the heedless clubgoers narrowly escaping an oozy death.
The film’s scariest and most evocative moments come to pass as Hedorah takes to the air. Now in broad daylight, the UFO-shaped kaijū jets around the city, poisoning everyone with its deadly emissions. Banno shows no mercy for those affected; within a matter of seconds, nothing but bones are left behind. Having young Ken discover the victims’ remains in the street only emphasizes the horror of the situation. Without question, these grisly, fast-acting deaths are inspired by the “Four Big Pollution Diseases of Japan;” industrial neglect resulted in unnatural human illnesses born between 1912 and 1961. The only bright side to these unfortunate real-life incidents was slow but eventual reform for chemical disposal practices.
Godzilla Versus Hedorah maintains both its uniqueness and weirdness with surreal in-between scenes. These instances and more are enriched by Riichirō Manabe‘s exceptional score, which stirs anxiety and breeds zaniness. Crude cartoon segues come out of nowhere, and they empower the film’s already frightful antagonist. Boosting the kookiness is another considerable visual insert; a chaotic split-screen sequence of various videos stresses the story’s state of emergency. In this wall of motion clips, protestors shout over each other, Hedorah attacks the city, the fishy club patrons serve as a reminder of the dwindling sea life, and a crying baby sinks into a pool of slime. Banno’s lone Godzilla film becomes increasingly strange with every passing minute, and no frame is wasted when communicating the atrocities brought on by humans’ disregard for nature.
Even without touching the eternal discourse on paper-thin human characters from this and surrounding Godzilla chapters, a distinct film like Hedorah still comes with minor caveats. Banno undeniably hit the ground running with an innovative film. However, the last act shows signs of fatigue and meandering as the two titans smash into each other with no rhythm or design, and the humans scramble to do their part in saving the world. The production loses some steam at this point, only to then find its footing again as Godzilla leaves the ground. Fans guffaw at the infamous flying scene, but after that much visible carnage and loss on the screen, Godzilla’s airborne ability lightens the mood.
Godzilla’s heroic transformation in the ‘60s and onward was a reflection of the changing times. The popularity of television led to dwindling attendance at the box office, and the King of Monster’s target demographic was now inclined to stay home to satisfy their tokusatsu cravings. Emulating the desire for justice so innate to small-screen heroes like Ultraman and Kamen Rider, Godzilla eventually took on the responsibility of protecting Earth, as opposed to merely falling into a savior role. This new status indeed began in Godzilla Versus Hedorah, but the pandering was more blatant in following entries. Here the Big G shows up to save the environment, and after cleaning up the mess, Godzilla issues a brief warning to those responsible. Subsequent outings have Godzilla simply take the bad guys out without afterthought. Banno, on the other hand, afforded his Godzilla a shred more intelligence than other directors and writers around this time.
Banno’s one and only Godzilla film is nothing short of imagination. Enhanced by creative direction and sensorial imagery, this cinematic and influential experiment has enjoyed a seismic turnaround with fans and critics. This of course comes after Hedorah was, and still is, haunted by the supposed feud between the director and producer Tomoyuki Tanaka. “You ruined Godzilla” is generally how the behind-the-scenes drama is summed up. An interview with Banno before his death, though, suggests the disagreement was either misinterpreted or overstated. The producer was apparently displeased with how Godzilla the character was changed. Whatever the truth is, Tanaka working with Banno again on the disaster film Prophecies of Nostradamus indicates the Hedorah director was not banned from Toho, after all.
While the films before it were less inclined to comment on Japan’s current pollution problems, much less show them, Godzilla Versus Hedorah was entirely transparent. Banno’s debut is aggressive and insistent when addressing the topical issue, but there are no polemics here. The filmmaker instead uses disquieting, unambiguous imagery to push the agenda and show the risk of depleting one’s resources. Not since All Monsters Attack had there been an unfiltered depiction of a typical Japanese city at the time; the atmosphere is gloomy and the sky is hazy because of factory smoke. Hedorah turns the dial all the way up with scenes of water pollution, dead marine life, and human casualties. What might come across as hyperbole to drum up controversy and sales is really an appeal for change. Without question, Japan’s economic growth came at a high cost, and Banno was bold enough to debate the price.
Horrors Elsewhere is a recurring column that spotlights a variety of movies from all around the globe, particularly those not from the United States. Fears may not be universal, but one thing is for sure — a scream is understood, always and everywhere.
In this day and age, the word “troll” is often used to describe various online nuisances. Yet as abundant and irksome as the modern troll can be, they aren’t usually as fearsome as their mythological counterparts. I’m not talking about the small and gentler versions that have become more common to see in media. No, there are much bigger and scarier trolls out there—and André Øvredal’s movie Troll Hunter is one of the best places to find them.
It doesn’t take long for Troll Hunter (or Trolljegeren) to dump the Blair Witch Project-esque setup and aim for something a lot fresher. The trajectory of the story is augmented by Otto Jespersen’s character Hans, the titular Troll Hunter. The second he comes barreling out of the deep, dark woods and shouts “troll” at the camera, this movie takes a turn into what feels like uncharted territory. Not only subject-wise, but also conceptually.
For fantastical and made-up subject matter in cinema, found footage is a fast way to add a guise of believability. After all, what we accept to be the most crucial aspect of documentaries—the truth—rubs off on pseudo-documentaries, despite our understanding of the pretense involved. That is what Øvredal delivered with Troll Hunter: a movie so convincing that some viewers wondered if trolls really do exist. So, had this been straightforwardly made, it likely wouldn’t have been as effective. Conventional narratives would be more inclined to treat something like trolls as flat out unreal, and never try to convince the audience to think otherwise.
Hans petrifies the three-headed Tusseladd troll.
The viewers, like the characters trailing Hans, are quickly thrown into the deeper end of that extraordinary story. They have to process all this new information while staying on the go. So, although there is no significant amount of meandering, narratively or physically, there is still a good amount of atmosphere, not to mention tension building. It’s never anything frightful, but then again, Troll Hunter isn’t your standard offering of horror; it’s more on the low end of the dark fantasy spectrum. We aren’t ever spirited away to a faraway world—we stay in rather familiar surroundings, as well as dip into those less so. The outcome is a movie where you’re constantly more in awe than in terror.
As fantasy fiction might do, Troll Hunter prefers not to deal with incredulity. There is no time to waste on doubt, as interviewer Thomas (Glenn Erland Tosterud), soundperson Johanna (Johanna Mørck), and cameraman Kalle (Tomas Alf Larsen) all follow Hans around, recording whatever this character is willing to reveal about his bizarre job. Of course, the Troll Hunter himself is not an open book; in that respect, the diegetic documentary fails to fully capture and unpack the more interesting of its two subjects. Yes, all those giant, monstrous trolls are indeed incredible, but understandably, your mind wanders to their pursuer. What kind of person signs up for this gig and then chooses to stick with it for so long?
Reviews have called out Troll Hunter for its lack of character development. In regard to Thomas and his fellow documentarians, that criticism is valid, but bear in mind, they aren’t the focus of the story, either. Meanwhile, Hans is a well-crafted character. At least better than first realized. Before he was introduced, Hans had already grown tired of the troll grind. Fed up with that low compensation for his services, resentful of the bureaucracy, and wanting to expose his employer on a large scale, Hans’ discontent is glaring.
Then there are those finer details about the Troll Hunter, such as that indifference to both the natural splendor of his everyday surroundings and the affections of an obviously smitten colleague, that also suggest some level of despondency. So it is fair to say this movie doesn’t feature any sizable growth for its characters; however, the namesake isn’t underwritten. No doubt, putting a real-life character like Otto Jespersen in that role is partly why Hans is so fascinating—maybe even relatable.
Otto Jespersen as Hans the Troll Hunter.
There is always a small risk whenever using the term “mockumentary” to describe a found-footage movie, as the word could imply humor where there is none. In the case of Troll Hunter, the term’s usage is appropriate. Some folks have claimed the English-dubbed version has the more comedic tone, however, the Norwegian cut isn’t exactly humorless. Apart from the trolls’ absurd appearances, this is a movie where the characters nearly choke on the monsters’ farts, and Christians are like walking targets. Hans’ complete apathy towards everything is another cause of laughter. Overall, the comedy is intentionally dry and inconsistent. Unfunny, though? Absolutely not.
In a movie where endemic creatures are maltreated, as well as disavowed from living freely and peacefully, it’s hard not to notice the ecological message buried beneath the story. In addition to that is the unmistakable political satire. There is this whole business about intrusive and unsightly power lines—like trolls, they’re big blemishes on the land—that leads to what is perhaps the movie’s funniest moment. The scene in question is that one where certain electric lines, the ones secretly being used to keep the trolls at bay, go in a loop and don’t actually send power to any residents. Yet the monitors of said lines don’t find this at all weird. So it stands to reason that Øvredal was having a go at those who accept the government’s doings without question.
Looking past the fact that trolls aren’t actually real, this movie is an enlightening source of information. And not just for international audiences; Norwegians, too, get schooled about their homeland’s own mythology. It’s also evident from everything on screen that Øvredal and his crew were enthusiastic about the topic. The creature designs are the most indicative of that zeal; those imaginative yet myth-accurate manifestations are equally amusing and grotesque. One second you’re laughing at their phallic noses, the next you’re white-knuckling during a hairy sequence. Most surprisingly is how well the trolls’ visual effects hold up after fifteen years. It’s not all spotless, but on the whole, they remain impressive.
Vouching for a mockumentary about trolls isn’t easy, but those who do come around and give it a shot will more than likely be grateful for the recommendation. For Troll Hunter is a real find in that vast and varied genre we call “found footage“.
A bridge troll reaches up for food and finds Hans decked out in armor.
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