Gamera The Giant Monster
1965. Directed by Noriaki Yuasa
Gamera The Giant Monster is not a good monster film. It’s not a good film period. I’d previously seen the much mangled american re-cut, Gamera The Invincible, and I’d imagined that the original would be better. Not so much.
Gamera is a giant turtle from the lost continent of Atlantis, frozen in the ice of the North Pole and awoken by a nuclear explosion. Unlike Godzilla, the nuke does nothing to mutate the creature, it just wakes it up. Cue destruction and mayhem, all inexplicably centered in Japan.
Our heroes, an earnest scientist, his lovely female assistant, their roguish photographer, and a little boy who is madly obsessed with turtles, must face this giant flame-breathing, jet propelled, fire-eating threat. A few thrilling scenes of destruction occur, followed by many long scenes of “international” boardroom discussions. Finally, the monster is lured to an island by way of tempting, fire-based snacks and easily trapped in a rocket that is blasted to Mars. Not the most thrilling of conclusions.
The monster Gamera is a solidly designed costume. It equals, if not bests the design of its rival, Toho’s Godzilla. Everything just works, from the sharp snout to the gaping tusked mouth to the lumbering splayed feet. Much of the black and white cinematography is based around close-ups of the costume, focusing on its razor-toothed maw, greedy glowing eyes, and its wickedly spined, glistening shell, which at times resembles some kind of pineapple-like fruit.
Gamera is fun but not inspired. There’s no deeper meaning to the monster as there was in the original Gojira. Where the story is lacking, the visuals take over. The black and white cinematography, highlighting the texture of industrial landscapes, is very reminiscent of Gojira, but there’s a slightly different, rougher feel to it. Unlike Toho’s heavily financed first monster flick, one gets the feeling that Gamera was on a shoestring budget from the get-go. Urban destruction occurs in small doses, the miniature effects sometimes fail, and the costume, though well-designed, often looks flat and fake. I like this roughness, though; I find it endearing as I find the later, much lower budget Godzilla films of the 1970s.
There’s something to be said for “the real” in film. There’s even something to be said for the “real fake.” A friend of mine once compared film effects work to tightrope walking. If the tightrope walker doesn’t wobble a bit, the audience just isn’t interested. The plastic nature of Gamera The Giant Monster, its rough-edged filmic texture, is incredibly engaging, even if the film is a bit trash.