The Devil Made Them Do It—the Three Movies that Defined the Satanic Scares of the ‘70s

 

Beginning in the late 1950s, the relaxation of censorship laws governing motion pictures, as well as an increasing sophistication on the part of audiences, a number of newer topics and themes began to be explored in American cinema, especially in the Horror genre.  One of the most popular and persistent involved Satanism, Witchcraft, and Demonology.  There were a scattering of such films between 1958 and 1968, but after the end of the Production Code in 1967, the subgenre virtually exploded, and the 1970s became, in many ways, the decade of the Devil in film. 

There were many such films produced after 1967.  A few became classics—The Sentinel (1977), Inferno (1980), The Wicker Man (1973), or Suspira (1977).  Some were okay—Race with the Devil (1975), El Diablo se Lleva los Muertos –aka— Lisa and the Devil (1974), or To the Devil a Daughter (1976).  Most were just bad.  Movies such as Ruby (1977), Abby (1974), or Simon, King of the Witches (1971), while undeniably inferior movies, still packed audiences into Drive-Ins and Grindhouses.

Three films, however, would stand out from the crowd, and be recognized as outstanding examples of filmmaking, and not just in the Horror genre.  These would be Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby, released in 1968; William Friedkin’s The Exorcist, in 1973; and Richard Donner’s The Omen, from 1976.  Together, they would come to symbolize the Satanic films of the ‘70s.

While Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby wasn’t the first Horror film with satanic themes (1913’s The Student of Prague, directed by Stellan Rye, probably holds that distinction), it was one of the first to take advantage of the newfound realism of the late ‘60s cinema.  Prior to Polanski’s groundbreaking film, themes of Satanism, Devil Worship, Witchcraft, and Cults were approached with caution by Hollywood, if at all.  The Production Code, put into place by the Hays Office in 1930 in an effort by the studios to avoid official censorship, was fully in control by 1934, severely restricting the content of motion pictures.  Though depictions of Satanism or Devil-Worship weren’t specifically forbidden under the code, the major studios were generally unwilling to approach, much less push, the boundaries set by the Hays Office.

One of the last Satanically-themed films produced before the Production Code took full effect was Edgar Ulmer’s 1934 classic The Black Cat, by Universal.  With overt themes of satanic worship and implied necrophilia and virgin sacrifice, it would have been impossible to release just a year later.  As it was, studio executives ordered the film to be cut in order to lessen the violence and horror, while allowing Ulmer to slip some of the movie’s most decadent bits past them.

In 1943, working within the confines of the Code, RKO Pictures produced The Seventh Victim, directed by Mark Robson and produced by Val Lewton, RKO’s hired gun brought in to compete with Universal’s Horror franchise.  The film concerned a young woman’s search for her missing sister, and her discovery that her sister was a member of a Satanic cult.  Though in my opinion it’s the best of the Horror films Lewton created for RKO, a very ham-fisted job of editing meant that the theatrical release was a confusing mess, and it did poorly at the box office.

The Production Code was officially in place until 1967, though in reality numerous factors had been whittling away at it for many years prior to that date.  First, the code only applied to films produced in the US.  While other nations’ cinemas had their own censorship issues to deal with, those tended to be more politically, rather than morally, oriented.

The second circumstance that led to the downfall of the Production Code was that, with increasing rapidity, Courts were conferring greater and greater protection to motion pictures under the aegis of the First Amendment.  The Supreme Court, in 1915, had ruled that motion pictures were a business, not art, and thus weren’t protected speech under the First Amendment.  However, that view had been shifting since the early 1950s, coinciding with the end of the Studio System.  As local censorship laws began to be struck down, there was increasing pressure on the Supreme Court to revisit their earlier decision, to bring order out of the patchwork quilt of censorship laws which covered the nation.

Third, and most importantly, the Code was entirely voluntary.  The major studios were the only ones bothering to abide by the code, and were the least interested in fighting censorship.  That fight was left to the independent Exploitation filmmakers, those who fought a constant battle with local censors for the right to exhibit their wares.  It was they who dragged the majors, kicking and screaming, into the modern era, which rendered the Production Code an archaic afterthought.

As the code began to crack and come apart, Satanically-themed films began to appear sporadically at Drive-Ins and Conventional theatres.  One of the best of this era was a British import, based on the M. R. James novel “Casting the Runes,” and directed by Jacques Tourneur.  Night of the Demon, released in the US as Curse of the Demon, was heavily edited prior to its theatrical release (approximately twelve minutes were cut); in its original form, it was a well-written and –directed, if at times slow paced, Horror film.  Literate, mature, and intelligent, it was the framework upon which the best of the Devil-Worship films were constructed.

Ten years after Night of the Demon hit theatres, low-budget Horror producer/director William Castle brought a project he was interested in developing to Robert Evans at Paramount.  Castle had gotten the advance galley proofs of a new novel by Ira Levin entitled Rosemary’s Baby from the book’s publisher, Random House.  Evans loved the story, and could see its potential as a feature film.  His only stipulation involved William Castle.  Well aware of the latter’s reputation for camp and gimmickry, Evans said that he could produce the film, but he wanted another director to helm the project.  They gave the job to an up-and-coming Polish filmmaker who was developing a solid reputation in Europe. 

Roman Polanski, then thirty-five, had just filmed a supposed Horror-Comedy, The Fearless Vampire Killers, released in the US by MGM (I say “supposed” because in my opinion it fails at both genres).  Polanski, best known for his 1965 film Repulsion, which had drawn critical praise, seemed a good fit for Rosemary’s Baby, at its core a psychological horror similar in tone to Repulsion.  And with the increased freedom following the demise of the Production Code, Polanski had the opportunity to make the first truly serious, mature Horror film.

Despite my personal animus towards Polanski as a person, which I have written of prior to this, I will give him his due as a talented director.  And Rosemary’s Baby might be his best film; certainly his best early work.  With a cast led by Mia Farrow and John Cassavetes, Polanski crafted a slow, suspenseful build-up to a shocking ending.  Critics loved it.  Moviegoers loved it.  And Hollywood took notice, and began developing similar properties in order to cash in. 

In the wake of the blockbuster success of Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby, every studio, from the Hollywood Majors to low-budget exploiteers, wanted their own Satanic, demonic, or cult-themed film.  That’s the nature of the business; one innovates, everyone else imitates.  Within a year or two, Horror films involving witches, covens, and Devil-Worshippers were a standard trope in low-budget Horror films.  Matthew Hopkins, Witchfinder General, directed by Michael Reeves and starring Vincent Price, actually beat the Polanski film into theaters, at least in Great Britain.  Though not strictly speaking a Horror film (though it was marketed as such, especially in the US where it was retitled The Conqueror Worm, after an Edgar Allan Poe poem), it nonetheless demonstrates that such topics were beginning to permeate the zeitgeist.

1971 saw an explosion of such movies, and titles such as The Brotherhood of Satan, The Mephisto Waltz, Tombs of the Blind Dead, and The Devil’s Nightmare were popular low-budget entries into the genre.  Similar films would be released in 1972, including Daughters of Satan and Horror Rises from the Tomb.  But it would be 1973 before the majors came back to the subject of demonic movies, and when they did, it would be with a vengeance. 

In 1971, author William Peter Blatty, inspired by a 1949 case of reported demonic possession, published a novel telling the story of a young girl, tormented by such a occurrence, and two Catholic priests who fight to save her soul from a demon.  The Exorcist was a runaway best-seller in print form, and it was only a matter of time before it was adapted for the screen.  Warner Bros. purchased the film rights to the book, and chose William Friedkin, coming off directing The French Connection, winner of five Oscars including Best Picture and Best Director, to helm it. 

With a script by Blatty, the author of the source novel; a cast comprised of veteran actors such as Max Von Sydow and Lee J. Cobb, lesser-known performers like Ellen Burstyn and Mercedes McCambridge, and a host of unknowns, such as Linda Blair and Jason Miller; and armed with a budget of $12 million, Friedkin crafted the definitive movie about demonic possession, one that would earn nearly $450 million at the Box Office, as well as ten Academy Award nominations, including Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Adapted Screenplay.  It won two, including Best Adapted Screenplay for Blatty’s script.  It is still regarded by many to be the most frightening Horror film ever.  And every studio and independent producer wanted to duplicate it.

Seemingly overnight theaters and Drive-Ins were swamped with demons and devils, witches and warlocks.  Time magazine might have declared God dead, but Satan was alive and well and living in Hollywood.  As is often the case with efforts to capitalize on a newly burgeoning trend in Hollywood, most of these low-budget Exploitation film takes on the subject weren’t very good.  However Italian and Spanish filmmakers, with deep roots in Catholic theological tradition, generally fared better with these themes, perhaps as an expression of rebellion against the cultural domination on the part of the Church in those countries.  In particular, a Spanish director named Jesús Franco showed a marked antipathy towards the Church, so much so that the Vatican declared him, along with fellow Spaniard Luis Buñuel, the most dangerous filmmakers in the world.

Sometime in 1973, Bob Munger, a friend of producer Harvey Bernhard, suggested to the latter that a movie about the Antichrist, the son of Satan, would be good box office.  Bernhard agreed, and immediately hired David Seltzer to turn the idea into a screenplay.  Seltzer, who had gotten his start in the business with an uncredited rewrite of Roald Dahl’s script for Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, took a year to finish the assignment, but when it was completed, everyone connected with the project felt that The Omen would be a winner.  Richard Donner, an experienced film and television director, was selected to helm the project for Warner Bros.

Starring Gregory Peck, Lee Remick, and David Warner, the story concerns an American diplomat and his wife, whose adopted son turns out to be the Antichrist foretold in the Book of Revelations.  Just as Rosemary’s Baby dealt with Satan from what might be described as a secular viewpoint, and The Exorcist was a study in Catholic theological dogma, The Omen was grounded in the Protestant Fundamentalist views on Armageddon and the Apocalypse.  This becomes more noticeable when one considers that most of the Catholic clergy are depicted as being in league with the Devil, certainly a Protestant prejudice.  Though the film failed to garner the critical praise that had been heaped upon the previous two linchpins of the subgenre, it was a box office hit, earning $61 million on a budget of $2.8 million.

As the Slasher films began to dominate the Horror genre in the late 1970s, the Satanic films waned in popularity, though never completely disappearing.  In the decades since, they have remained a staple of the Horror fan’s diet, holding their own against the vampires, ghosts, aliens, and zombies that populate modern Horror films.  I don’t see that changing anytime soon—after all, the battle between Good and Evil is as old as Mankind itself.

Something Weird on the Screen: The Wild, Bizarre and Wacky World of Scare-Your-Children Movies, Exploitation Shorts and Stag Films

As I may have mentioned a time or two (or forty …) in this column, I love cheesy movies … the cheesier, the better, especially if it cost less than the price of a new car to produce.  Give me a movie that’s the celluloid counterpart of a twenty-pound block of Velveeta®, something that could put a deathgrip on King Kong’s colon, and was done on the cheap, and you have one happy Unimonster.  And from THE BLOB to BUBBA HO-TEP, no type of film does low-budget cheese better than the Genre film—specifically the five associated genres of Horror, Sci-Fi, Mystery, Fantasy, and Exploitation.

Why is it that I enjoy these types of movies so much more than their mega-buck Hollywood blockbuster cousins?  Well, one answer is lowered expectations.  When a major studio pours $180 million into a picture, it had damn well better make me stand up and cheer; anything less is just a disappointment.  Movies such as INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL, HELLBOY 2: THE GOLDEN ARMY, or THE DARK KNIGHT demand huge budgets, but the finished product is well worth the filmmakers’ investment.  But when a big-budget film flops, it’s usually a disaster of biblical proportions, sometimes ending the careers of those involved.  The best-known example of this was 1980’s HEAVEN’S GATE, the boring, bloated, Box-Office bomb that sank the career of heretofore-promising director Michael Cimino.  With a budget that ballooned to five times the original estimate, and a running time that was north of three-and-a-half hours, it was Box-Office death, earning less than three-and-a-half million on a thirty-five million dollar investment.  However, when no one expects anything from a movie, it’s hard to be disappointed.

And that brings me to another reason for my love of cheap movies … they’re so much more entertaining.  Let’s face facts—most people go to the movies to be entertained.  Not enlightened, not educated, not indoctrinated … simply to relax and have a good time.  That’s hard to do when the director is trying to beat some socially relevant message into your head; even harder when the beating lasts for three or more hours.  There are people who enjoy that sort of thing; there are also people who prefer tofu to rib-eye.  I have little use for either sort of person.

I for one want entertainment from the movies I watch.  If I want enlightenment, I play golf.  If I want education, I read a book.  And I scrupulously try to avoid indoctrination.  All I seek from my hard-earned movie-buying dollar is a couple of hours of mindless entertainment… not a disguised thought exercise.  I don’t think I differ greatly from the average movie fan in that regard, either.  The average movie fan just wants a little something to take him or her out of their mundane, everyday existence—something that they can’t get in their normal lives.  Sometimes that’s a thrilling adventure yarn, sometimes a historical drama, and sometimes, it’s something just a little further afield.  Something strange, something unusual, something… weird.

For nearly two decades, there’s been a small company catering to those of us who share a love of the cinematic equivalent of a ripe wedge of Roquefort, movies that define the term, “So bad it’s good …”  Something Weird Video is precisely that—something weird, indeed anything weird, that has been captured on film or video.

Say you have a fondness for 1950’s vintage High School hygiene films … SWV has you covered.  You consider yourself a fan of the films of Harry Novak?  They've got what you’re looking for.  Need a Bettie Page or Tempest Storm stag reel for your next bachelor party?  Something Weird is the place for that, and virtually every other type of low-brow, low-class, and low-budget film you can imagine.

Founded in 1990 by Mike Vraney, SWV has grown into a major distributor of classic, and unusual, genre films.  They also specialize in the type of short films that collector’s love, but that every other distributor ignores.  Industrial films, propaganda films, educational films—name an obscure form of video, and chances are they have it in stock.  From a 1959 film produced by the Kansas State Board of Health on the dangers of Syphilis, to ‘60’s-vintage Police training films on how to spot signs of marijuana use, to a promotional film put out by Karo Syrup entitled THE ENCHANTED POT, virtually every taste and interest is catered to by the company.  But by far, their stock in trade is the good, old-fashioned, Exploitation Film.

Precursor to both the Grindhouse films of the ‘60’s and ‘70’s, and the X-Rated adult features of the ‘70’s and ‘80’s, Exploitations became big business as the silent era transitioned into sound.  A small group of producer/distributors, part con-men, part Hollywood mogul, and with a stiff measure of carnival huckster thrown in, came to dominate the Exploitation circuits, playing in dingy downtown theaters and out-of-the-way rural Drive-Ins.  Known collectively as “the Forty Thieves”, these showmen traveled the country exhibiting their films to curious crowds, always promising the raw, uncensored, unvarnished truth about a myriad of social ills, from child marriage to the dangers of sexual promiscuity and drug abuse… and delivering just enough to keep the rubes and yokels happy.

The Exploitations were the cinematic equivalent of a traveling sideshow; talk up the crowds, get them excited about whatever symptom of moral decay was the topic of that week’s film, get them to lay down their money for a ticket, and then give them pretty much what they were expecting—a little entertainment, a little skin, a little naughtiness, all wrapped up in a package that they could regard with a sense of moral outrage and indignation—while secretly wishing that they themselves could indulge in some of that naughtiness.

The kings of the Exploitation circuits made fortunes with these films, often recycling them over and over by splicing new title cards into the prints, or by trading them to other distributors in exchange for films that had already worn out their welcome on other circuits.  Names like Kroger Babb, Dave Friedman, and Dan Sonney might mean little today, but in their era, and in their arena, they were as powerful and influential as Samuel Goldwyn, Darryl F. Zanuck, or Walt Disney.  They were the moguls of Exploitation; the men who worked beyond Hollywood’s pale, creating films no “respectable” distributor would dare touch.  In the ‘40’s and ‘50’s, they, and others like them, fought for an end to censorship of motion pictures and increased freedom for filmmakers, even if ‘mainstream’ filmmakers looked down their collective nose at them.

As the ‘50’s gave way to the ‘60’s, the Exploitations began to change.  The moral message that had been such a prominent part of the “Road Show” era of Exploitation films fell by the wayside as the courts struck down, one by one, the draconian censorship laws on the motion picture industry.  Without the need to justify their more salacious or risqué content, a new breed of filmmakers, people such as Harry Novak, Doris Wishman, and Mike and Roberta Findlay began producing a new breed of Exploitation film.

These were truly exploitative films, lacking any pretense of cultural or educational value.  From Wishman’s ‘Nudie Cuties’ to Herschell G. Lewis’ gore-filled horrors, the early ‘60’s were an explosion of new trends in movies, and those on the leading edge of those trends were the Exploitation filmmakers.  The same year that audiences were shocked by the sight of Janet Leigh dressed only in her undergarments following an afternoon tryst in PSYCHO, moviegoers in New York City’s 42^nd Street grindhouses were watching Wishman’s NUDE ON THE MOON, a Sci-Fi “epic” filmed at a Florida nudist colony.  Three years before Peter Fonda starred in the landmark film EASY RIDER, he starred in a not-so-vaguely similar movie, THE WILD ANGELS, directed by Roger Corman for American-International Pictures.

But the Exploitations would go where Hollywood dared not follow, and do so in ways that the major studios wouldn’t think of emulating.  At a time when Hollywood was still struggling to come to terms with homosexuality, racism, drug abuse, and a rapidly changing cultural landscape, the Exploitations were treating all of these topics in an open, frank manner… even if that treatment was less than honest—or flattering.  These were key themes for the “grindhouse” cinema, the infamous strip of theaters along 42^nd Street in Manhattan.  A few blocks away might be the bright lights of Broadway, but here all was darkness and shadow, and it was populated by those who shunned the light.  The grindhouses of “The Deuce,” as the strip was christened by authors Bill Landis and Michelle Clifford in their book, Sleazoid Express: A Mind-Twisting Tour through the Grindhouse Cinema of Times Square, were where the Exploitation film reached it’s zenith.  There you could find an endless variety of perversion and prurient delights… if you were willing to risk your wallet, or perhaps your life, for the experience.

While those who frequented the theaters that made up the “Deuce” profess fond memories of the experience, the truth is slightly different.  The grindhouse area was, in fact, a filthy, crime-ridden, two-by-eight block section of the city that was a breeding ground for prostitution, assault, robbery, and disease.  The only reason fans of these movies traveled to such a blighted zone was because that was the only place that you could see these films… and despite their low-quality and frequently tasteless subject matter, many of these films were worth seeking out.

New York City’s efforts to remake it’s public image led to the end of the “Deuce,” as theater after theater was razed upon the altar of ‘urban renewal’.  For the most part the fans of Exploitations weren't displeased … with the growth of Home Video and the newfound freedom to watch whatever you might choose in the privacy of your own home, why brave the dimly-lit alleyways of 42^nd Street?  And as Hollywood’s standards changed, the line between what was “mainstream” and what wasn’t began, first to blur, then to vanish altogether.  This began as early as 1969 when an X-Rated film, John Schlesinger’s MIDNIGHT COWBOY, won the Oscar® for Best Picture.  Ironically, this film examined the lives of two Times Square hustlers played by Jon Voight and Dustin Hoffman, and their struggle to survive as denizens of the “Deuce.”  This led to a spate of semi-respectable adult films—DEEP THROAT and BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR were two notable titles—that were shown in first-run theaters.  With Hollywood now free to explore many of the topics that were previously the sole province of the Exploitation filmmakers, many of them moved into the final stage in the life cycle of the Exploitation filmmaker—hardcore pornography—and the true Exploitation film died a slow, lingering death.  But the movies that made up the more than five decades of the Exploitation period haven’t died, though it was only the efforts of a dedicated few who kept the memory of these films alive, people like Mike Vraney, Bill Landis, Michelle Clifford, Dave Friedman, Harry Novak, and others who have worked to preserve these films, and history of the Exploitation Cinema.

While it’s easy to dismiss these movies as trashy, lewd, and without redeeming value, I believe that is far too harsh a judgment.  Yes, these films were trashy, designed primarily to titillate and tease their audiences … and to that, I say, “So what?”  Could not the same be said for most of the motion picture industry?  The goal of producers and distributors hasn't changed since Edison screened his GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY in the 1890’s—to put asses in seats—at whatever ticket price the market would bear.  If the Exploitation filmmakers hadn't given the movie-going public what they wanted, then they wouldn’t have accomplished this.  And if they hadn't accomplished the task of selling tickets, then they wouldn’t have lasted as long as they did.  Trashy—yes.  Lewd, lascivious, exploitive, prurient, pandering, coarse, vulgar, bawdy … yes, they were all of the above.

But they were also entertaining.  Sometimes that’s good enough.  Sometimes, that’s just what you’re in the mood for.  And thanks to Mike Vraney and his Something Weird Video, we can indulge that mood whenever it strikes.  And not in some run-down, flea-ridden, rat-infested den of iniquity with a movie screen, but in the comfort of our own homes.

KAIJÛ 101: A Beginner’s Guide to the Giant Monsters of Japanese Cinema

Say “Godzilla,” and everyone knows what you mean and to whom you’re referring.  Say “Kaijû,” and most people say, “What’s that mean?”  Simply put, Kaijû are the giant monsters of Japanese movies: Godzilla; Rodan; Mothra; and their kin.  For those new to the genre, it can be a daunting task trying to sort out the confusing variety of Monsters, Aliens, and the movies associated with them.  While I’m far from an expert, I am going to try to give you the basic history of the Kaijû genre from 1954 to 2004, but with emphasis on the first twenty years of Godzilla’s reign.  These are the movies everyone should start with if they want to know Kaijû Eiga in general, and Godzilla movies in particular.  Though most would say there’s no difference, that would be shortsighted and factually incorrect, and would be comparable to saying that all Universal Horrors are Frankenstein movies.

          Also, those familiar with my columns know that they are often a mix of fact and opinion.  Where I state fact, I do my utmost to research and confirm those facts, and I want to acknowledge those sources now. 

          First and foremost in all my research is www.imdb.com.  This has got to be the best website ever devised for those looking for information on virtually any movie, classic or current; and my work would be much more difficult without it.  Also, two websites devoted to Kaijû films have proven invaluable for this article:  www.tohokingdom.com, and Gojistomp.org.  I heartily recommend them to Kaijû-lovers everywhere.

          As to my opinions… well, they’re my opinions.  You don’t have to agree with them, just don’t expect me to change them.

          And one last acknowledgement is in order, as well as a huge thank-you, to my fellow CreatureScape writer Elizabeth Haney.  Her assistance with the research on this piece has been invaluable, and it, as well as her friendship, is greatly appreciated.

          My purpose with this article is simple:  To share with you my love of Kaijû Eiga, (Monster Movies…) and hopefully give you an appreciation of them that will inspire you to delve deeper into these fascinating films.

          The World of the Kaijû—a Primer

          To really understand the World of Kaijû films, it is helpful to have a basic knowledge of some of the terms used to describe these films.  Most are Japanese in origin, and can be confusing for western fans.  Hopefully, I can help cut through some of the confusion, and make these films a little more accessible.

          First, you will occasionally see me refer to a “Goji.”  That is the diminutive of “Gojira,” and is usually used in identifying a Godzilla from a specific film, by identifying the version of the Goji-Suit used in the production.  The suits were named by a combination of some descriptive term from the film, often another Kaijû, and the “-goji” suffix.  Thus, Kingoji was the Godzilla from KINGUKONGU TAI GOJIRA  ~aka~  KING KONG vs. GODZILLA.  Here is a complete list of the various Goji-suits, courtesy of Gojistomp.org:

Shodaigoji (1954)

Gyakushugoji (1955)

Kingoji (1962)

Mosugoji I (1964)

Mosugoji II (1964)

Daisengoji (1965)

Musukugoji (1967)

Daisengoji (1965-1966)

Soshingekigoji (1968-1972)

Megarogoji (1973)

Mekagoji (1974)

Mekagyakushugoji (1975)

1984-Goji (1984)

Biogoji / Ghidogoji (1989-1991)

Batogoji (1992)

Radogoji (1993)

Mogegoji (1994)

Desugoji (1995)

Amerigoji (1998)

Miregoji (1999)

Giragoji (2000)

GMK-Goji (2001)

Kiryugoji (2002)

Kiryu-Mosugoji (2003)

Fainarugoji (2004)

          The reason there were so many variations is a simple one:  The suits seldom lasted through more than one production, and some barely survived one.  The foam rubber they were composed of broke down rapidly, and within a short time the suit would be unusable.  All that remains of virtually all the goji-suits now are bits of decaying rubber.  And each iteration of the suits would lead to changes; some minor, but a few major ones occurred through the years.

          Secondly, as you may notice in the headings for the following sections, I refer to the period of the early films as the Showa era, the era this article will focus on.  Toho’s Kaijû films are divided into three periods:  Showa; Heisei; (or “Versus” in Japan…) and Millennium.  The first two correspond roughly to the Japanese calendar; while the third, obviously, gains it’s name from the fact that it began in 1999. 

          In the Japanese method of date-keeping, a new era begins with the death of the current Emperor, and the ascension of his successor.  Thus, the Taishō era ended in 1926 with the death of the Taishō Emperor Yoshihito, and the Showa era began as his son, Crown Prince Hirohito, succeeded him.  In that calendar, GOJIRA debuted in Showa-29, the twenty-ninth year of the Showa Emperor’s reign…  And you thought Leap years and Daylight Savings time were complicated.

          Thirdly, of course Toho wasn’t the only studio in Japan producing Kaijû Eiga.  Daiei Studios had Gamera, Nikkatsu had Gappa… but Toho was king of Kaijû movies, and Toho’s who I’ll concentrate on here.

         

THE BEGINNING—(1954)

          The first of Toho’s Kaijû Eiga was and still is the best ever:  1954’s GOJIRA.  Directed by Ishirô Honda, this allegorical commentary on the Atomic Age was toned down and significantly altered to appeal to the American market when it appeared here in 1956 as GODZILLA, KING OF THE MONSTERS.  While inferior to the original Japanese version, it retains the original’s stark, apocalyptic feel and dark tone that made it so effective.

          Perhaps the most influential Monster-Movie since 1933’s KING KONG, more than a score of sequels and dozens of imitators have followed this film, cementing Godzilla’s place as a pop-culture icon.

         

          The Early SHOWA-Era—(1954-1962)

          With the dramatic success of GOJIRA, Toho soon had a sequel in the works, as well as other Kaijû on the drawing boards.  Gojira no gyakushû ~aka~ GODZILLA’S COUNTER-ATTACK; GODZILLA RAIDS AGAIN; GIGANTIS THE FIRE-MONSTER (1955), was released barely six months after GOJIRA premiered, and established Godzilla as a superstar in his homeland.  It also introduced a second Kaijû, Anguirus, who battled Godzilla thus beginning a long-running theme in the Toho films.  The next Kaijû to make their appearance came a year later, in the form of gigantic flying reptiles named Rodan.  SORA NO DAIKAIJÛ RADON ~aka~ RADON THE MONSTER OF THE SKY; RODAN (1956), was the first Kaijû film shot in color, and introduced not only the two Rodan, but also a beetle-like Kaijû called a Meganulon which the newly-hatched Rodans fed on. 

          RODAN was quickly followed by Chikyu Boeigun ~aka~ EARTH DEFENSE FORCE; THE MYSTERIANS (1957).  While this was, strictly speaking, more of a Tokusatsu, or Special Effects (Sci-Fi, in other words…), film, rather than Kaijû movie, Toho insisted upon at least one Kaijû in the production.  Thus was born Moguera, in his only appearance to date. 

          A year later Varan made his first appearance in DAIKAIJÛ BARAN ~aka~ GREAT MONSTER VARAN; VARAN THE UNBELIEVABLE.  Though Varan was little more than a clone of Godzilla, (some stock footage of Godzilla was actually used by mistake…) it was still an interesting movie; at least, the Japanese version was.  It received the usual slice-and-dice edit job from it’s American distributor, who dropped in extra footage involving a U.S. Naval officer conducting secret experiments.

          The Kaijû scene was quiet for the next few years, as Toho concentrated on producing more Tokusatsu, such as UCHU DAISENSO ~aka~ THE GREAT SPACE WAR; BATTLE IN OUTER SPACE.  It would be 1961 before another Kaijû came along, in MOSURA ~aka~ MOTHRA.  One of Toho’s most popular monsters, Mothra became a recurring star in the Kaijû Eiga, with some variation of the Kaijû appearing in no less than 14 movies, spanning all three eras.

          1962 saw the return of Godzilla himself, along with a guest, in KINGUKONGU TAI GOJIRA ~aka~ KING KONG vs. GODZILLA.  The original Japanese version was intended to be light-hearted and comedic; aimed more at children.  Godzilla himself underwent several changes, even to the point of the Kingoji suit having a softer, friendlier appearance, thereby creating the worst looking Goji in the series.

However, an absolutely abysmal editing job on the part of Universal, the film’s co-producer and U.S. distributor, ladled on the melodrama with edited-in segments of “UN News” broadcasts featuring no-talent American actors, and ruined the intent of the film’s creators.  What should have been a funny, enjoyable comedy now gets its laughs for the entirely wrong reasons.

And let’s take the opportunity to dispel a myth that has sprung up concerning the Japanese, as opposed to the US, versions of this film:  That Godzilla wins in the Japanese version and Kong in the US edit.  Kong is the winner in both, and was intended to be from the beginning.  The only difference is in the sound effects in the last scene; in the Japanese version, you hear Godzilla’s roar as well as Kong’s as Kong swims away.

The Mid-Showa Films—(1963-1969)

          Though 1963 didn’t see the release of a film starring one of the more popular Kaijû, it did give us a very good movie that blended the Kaijû and Tokusatsu formats.  Kaitei gunkan ~aka~ UNDERSEA BATTLESHIP; ATRAGON was a skillfully done Sci-Fi epic, and introduced us to Manda, a dragon-like sea serpent that was the defender of the undersea kingdom of Mu.  The original Manda was destroyed by the Submarine Gotengo, but there were obviously others, as the Kaijû has made repeated appearances.

          1964 was a big year for Toho’s growing stable of Kaijû.  Not only were there two Godzilla films released that year (the only year that would see twin Goji releases…) but it would also produce Uchu daiKaijû Dogora ~aka~ SPACE MONSTER DOGORA; DAGORA, THE SPACE MONSTER. 

While this would be this Kaijû’s only appearance, it was a memorable one, and it is deserving of more attention than it gets.  Looking like a gigantic space jellyfish, Dogora was certainly one of Toho’s strangest Kaijû; at least, until much later in the series.

          Also released in 1964 was MOSURA TAI GOJIRA ~aka~ MOTHRA vs. GODZILLA; GODZILLA vs. THE THING.  Always a popular Kaijû, Mothra’s second appearance is the one most western audiences remember when they think of the giant moth.

          But the best Kaijû film of 1964, and the one that had the greatest impact on the Showa series, was San Daikaiju: Chikyu saidai no kessen ~aka~ Three Giant Monsters: The Earth's Greatest Decisive Battle; GHIDRAH, THE THREE-HEADED MONSTER.  This was the seminal film of the Showa period, transforming the three main Kaijû, especially Godzilla, into the anointed protectors of Japan.  It also introduces the quintessential villain of the series, King Ghidorah.  Ghidorah, three-headed dragon monster, would plague Godzilla throughout the franchise, appearing in no fewer than seven films in all three periods.

          1965 brought the return of King Ghidorah, this time with a new name and under alien control.  KAIJÛ DAISENSO ~aka~ WAR OF THE MONSTERS; GODZILLA vs. MONSTER ZERO, was basically a continuation of the previous film; only this time, Ghidorah was under the control of the Xilians, a race of aliens bent on world conquest.  While this was the first time aliens made such an appearance in a Godzilla film, it certainly wouldn’t be the last.  Alien races soon became a staple plot point of the Godzilla writers.

          The other Kaijû film released in 1965 should be familiar to regular readers of this column… a couple of months ago I listed it as one of the three worst movies in my collection:  Furankenshutain tai chitei kaijû Baragon ~aka~ FRANKENSTEIN vs. THE SUBTERRANEAN MONSTER BARAGON; FRANKENSTEIN CONQUERS THE WORLD.  Though in its original form it might very well be a decent Kaijû Eiga, it was so horribly chopped down for the export market that it lost all of whatever charm it might have possessed.

          Godzilla returned in 1966, in what was his weakest Showa outing thus far:  Gojira, Ebirâ, Mosura: Nankai no daiketto ~aka~ GODZILLA, EBIRAH, MOTHRA: BIG DUEL IN THE SOUTH SEAS; GODZILLA vs. THE SEA MONSTER.  You know, over the years Kaijû lovers have had to put up with some rather outlandish creatures; giant moths, a giant animated rose, Raymond Burr… but Ebirah the giant shrimp has to take the prize.  Fortunately, the other film produced that year was much, much better.

          Furankenshutain no kaijû: Sanda tai Gaira ~aka~ FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTERS: SANDA vs. GAIRA; WAR OF THE GARGANTUAS, was a direct sequel of the previous year’s FRANKENSTEIN CONQUERS THE WORLD, but far exceeded the earlier film in terms of quality.  The Kaijû, Sanda and Gaira, were the offspring of the Frankenstein’s Monster from the previous year; unlike that monster, these two were somewhat interesting.

          Continuing the trend of the previous two years, Toho released two Kaijû films in 1967, one featuring Godzilla, and one that didn’t.

          The Godzilla franchise continued a decline in quality began when Honda left the series as director, after GODZILLA vs. MONSTER ZERO, with Kaijûtô no Kessen: Gojira no Musuko  ~aka~  Monster Island's Decisive Battle: Godzilla's Son; Son of Godzilla.  This, Jun Fukuda’s second outing as director of a Godzilla film, marked the beginning of the series’ shift to cater to the children’s market.  The Musukugoji suit used through much of this film (the Daisengoji suit was used for the underwater scenes…) had a much softer, friendlier appearance, similar to the Kingoji suit used five years previously.  The plot was also rendered kinder and gentler, though certainly not better.

          I’d like to say that Toho’s second production of 1967 was better, but that would be stretching the truth.  KINGUKONGU NO GYAKUSHU  ~aka~  KING KONG’S COUNTERATTACK; KING KONG ESCAPES was purportedly a sequel to KING KONG vs. GODZILLA, though in fact it bore no similarity to the previous film.  In comparison, it was fairly decent; though the plot, as in many Kaijû Eiga, was superfluous.

          1968 saw the release of only one Kaijû film, but it also marked the return of Ishirô Honda to the director’s chair of the Godzilla series.  He quickly restored the franchise to some semblance of its former glory, giving us one of the best Goji-films ever:  KAIJÛ SÔSHINGEKI  ~aka~  MONSTER INVASION; DESTROY ALL MONSTERS.  Featuring virtually every Kaijû yet encountered by Godzilla, plus a few that had made solo appearances, DESTROY ALL MONSTERS had everything a Kaijû epic should… massive destruction; alien invaders; mega-Kaijû battles; and, of course, King Ghidorah getting his ass kicked.  It’s still one of my favorite movies.

          Once again, Toho returned to the formula of two Kaijû films for 1969, with one being a Godzilla picture.  Gojira-Minira-Gabara: Oru Kaijû Daishingeki  ~aka~  Godzilla’s Revenge was Honda’s next-to-last Godzilla film, though his run didn’t end soon enough.  Easily the worst of the franchise’s fifty-year run, GODZILLA’S REVENGE was a Goji-film for the Sesame Street crowd; a juvenile romp seen through the eyes of a young boy who befriends Minilla, the son of Godzilla.  Whether this happens in the boy’s imagination or not is uncertain; but this somehow gives him the ability to defeat an entire gang of criminals.  The genius that had been behind the special effects of the Godzilla franchise from its inception, Eiji Tsuburaya, was bedridden during the filming, (he would die within months…) and Honda supervised the effects work himself.  Most of the sequences featuring the various Kaijû were stock footage, cobbled together from earlier films.

          The second release that year was a return to the Tokusatsu / Kaijû blend of a few years before.  Ido zero daisakusen  ~aka~  LATITUDE ZERO: GREAT MILITARY BATTLE; LATITUDE ZERO, was one of the most eccentric Eiga released by Toho, with the crew of a submarine named the Alpha doing battle with the evil Dr. Malik, played by Cesar Romero.  Yes, I’m talking about the Joker.  One of Malik’s creations is a 100-foot lion; with giant condor wings surgically grafted on, and for some reason named the Black Moth.  As Kaijû goes, perhaps not the best concept, but then, maybe that could be said for the film as a whole.

         

The Late Showa—(1970-1975)

          1970 was the first year since 1963 without an appearance from Godzilla, or in fact any of Toho’s other A-list monsters.  But that doesn’t mean the year was Kaijû-free, with the release of Honda’s Gezora, Ganime, Kameba: Kessen! Nankai no daikaijû  ~aka~  Gezora, Ganimes, Kamoebas: Decisive Battle! Giant Monsters of the South Seas; YOG: MONSTER FROM SPACE.  One of the better late Showa films, it’s unfamiliar to most American viewers, but the excellent Tokyo Shock / Media Blasters disc, sold under the title Space Ameoba - Gezora, Ganime, Kameba is worth seeking out.

          Yoshimitsu Banno briefly assumed the helm of the Godzilla franchise in 1971 with GOJIRA TAI HEDOR  ~aka~  GODZILLA vs. HEDORAH; GODZILLA vs. THE SMOG MONSTER.  Purely a environmentalist’s infomercial, it’s a very boring outing for the Big G despite a few interesting segments, including a scene of Godzilla flying, using his nuclear breath for rocket propulsion.  So poorly was this film received that the Godfather of the G-franchise, Tomoyuki Tanaka, exploded in rage at Banno, informing him that he had ruined the series.  A new Godzilla film was immediately rushed into production, and a planned sequel to GODZILLA vs. HEDORAH was quickly cancelled.

          Chikyû kogeki meirei: Gojira tai Gaigan ~aka~ EARTH DESTRUCTION DIRECTIVE: GODZILLA vs. GIGAN; GODZILLA ON MONSTER ISLAND, released in 1972, marked Jun Fukuda’s return as director, with a better effort than usual from him. 

True, there is a certain level of silliness that Fukuda just couldn’t avoid, including a scene where Godzilla and Angirus are speaking to each other.  While this was done in the original Japanese edit through the use of cartoonish “word balloons,” in the English-language version we actually hear the Monsters speaking.  Still, in comparison to the previous GODZILLA vs. THE SMOG MONSTER, I can live with a little silliness.

1973’s GOJIRA TAI MEGARO ~aka~ GODZILLA vs. MEGALON was the most interesting Goji-film of the 1970’s, and while aimed almost exclusively at the youth market, still manages to entertain.  It was also a vehicle for one of Toho’s most spectacular publicity campaigns, one which invited children to design a character for the film.  The winning design was an Ultraman-like character named Jet Jaguar.  This heroic robot was able to use martial arts, fly, and grow to enormous size to battle evil.  He and Godzilla quickly unite to battle Megalon and Gigan, in a Kaijû fight that must be seen to be believed.

1974 gave us a new evil Kaijû to root against, a new ally for Godzilla, and marked the Big Guy’s 20^th anniversary.  GOJIRA TAI MEKAGOJIRA ~aka~ GODZILLA vs. MECHAGODZILLA; GODZILLA vs. THE COSMIC MONSTER was also Jun Fukuda’s last turn as director; unfortunately, it worked no better than most of his films.  It did introduce the villains of the last two Showa films:  Mechagodzilla, a mechanical replica of Godzilla designed to beat him in combat; and the aliens from the Black Hole who created him. 

We were also introduced to a new Kaijû protector of Japan, Kingushîsâ, or King Shisa.  In the English-language version, this became King Caesar.  King Caesar is the embodiment of the lion-dog guardian spirits (or Shîsâ…) that are represented by statues on the island of Okinawa.  This would be his only appearance until GOJIRA: FAINARU UÔZU ~aka~ GODZILLA: FINAL WARS in 2004.  (See my review of GFW in Creatures Featured, elsewhere on the CreatureScape site…)

The Showa era ended, not with a bang but a whimper, in 1975.  Ishirô Honda returned one last time to the director’s chair; but he had very little to work with in MEKAGOJIRA NO GYAKUSHU ~aka~ MECHAGODZILLA’S COUNTER-ATTACK; TERROR OF MECHAGODZILLA.  The plot was little more than a rehash of the previous film, and not even Honda’s talent as director could overcome the film’s negatives.  The series ground to a halt, and would lie dormant for nearly the next decade.

The Heisei Era—(1984-1995)

The Heisei era (also known as the “Versus” era in Japan…) began, as did the Showa, with GOJIRA ~aka~ THE RETURN OF GODZILLA; GODZILLA 1985, released in 1984.  It ended just over a decade later with GOJIRA VS DESUTOROIA ~aka~ GODZILLA vs. DESTOROYAH.  A much darker series, it ignored everything that had occurred following the original, 1954 film.  This Godzilla was no protector of Japan, and gone too were the kid-friendly plots of the late ‘60’s-early ‘70’s.  The death of Godzilla at the hands of Destoroyah in 1995 ended the Heisei era with one of the best, albeit most emotional, outings in the franchise’s history.

The Millennium Era—(1999-2004)

Following the failure of Tristar Pictures’ 1998 version of GODZILLA, directed by Roland Emmerich, to capture the affections of the Kaijû faithful, Toho decided that the public was ready for the return of the real Godzilla, and the Millennium era began with GOJIRA NI-SEN MIRENIAMU  ~aka~  GODZILLA 2000: MILLENNIUM; GODZILLA 2000.  (See my review of G2K in Creatures Featured, elsewhere on the CreatureScape site…)  Easily the best-looking Godzilla production yet, the special effects had progressed to the point where CGI sequences were used for the first time in a Godzilla film (I don’t count GINO…) and work wonderfully in combination with the Suitmation techniques pioneered by Toho.  The Millennium era would only last five years, but produced some of the franchises most memorable films.  Certainly GODZILLA: FINAL WARS must be considered one of the best since the heyday of Ishirô Honda.

The Future of Kaijû Eiga—(?)

With the end of the Millennium era, and Toho’s reluctance to discuss future Godzilla films, fans are left to wonder how long it will be before that familiar roar is once more heard rising from the waters of Tokyo Bay.  For Godzilla to have fought his last battle is incomprehensible to me, as I’m sure it is to many of my fellow Goji-fans.  Godzilla, as others have observed before me, is a force of nature; an elemental being, whether for good or bad.  He’s not a dinosaur run amok, or an experiment gone wrong.  He simply… IS.  To imagine that coming to an end would mean the death of something that I’m not prepared to see die.  And if I’m lucky, I’ll never have to be.

Hacking through Haddonfield: How HALLOWEEN Gave Birth to a Genre

(Originally Published in 2006)

Though my preferences usually run more in the Classic vein of Horror, every so often I feel the need to inject a little blood and gore into the mix.  Usually, I’ll pull out a Bava or Fulci film, or, depending on my mood, one of De Ossorio’s Blind Dead movies.  The European “Lost Cannibal Tribe” films of the ‘70’s are always good for plenty of blood & guts, though they aren't for most tastes.  For more recent fare, there’s no shortage of filmmakers who tend towards the gorier aspects of Horror.  Takashi Miike, director of the Japanese cult hit Ôdishon —aka— Audition, has developed quite a reputation as a director who pushes the boundaries with his films.  The Spanish filmmaker Nacho Cerdà has repeatedly blown through those boundaries, most notably with his short film Aftermath.

Domestically, the movies of Herschell Gordon Lewis never fail to keep me entertained, even if calling them “B-Pictures” is paying them an undue compliment.  I’ve always had a soft spot for bad movies, and H. G. Lewis would’ve given Ed Wood a run for his money in that department.  Romero’s Dead films are always an option for gore, as are the films of Wes Craven, Tobe Hooper, and Clive Barker.  Currently, directors such as Eli Roth and Rob Zombie are keeping Hollywood’s manufacturers of fake blood in clover.

Of course, we also have the teen slasher films so popular in the ‘70’s, ‘80’s and ‘90’s … franchises such as Friday the 13^th, Nightmare on Elm Street, and the first and best of the Unstoppable Slasher movies, John Carpenter’s Halloween.

Thought of today primarily for being the film that introduced us to Jamie Lee Curtis, Halloween should instead be remembered for having given birth to the uniquely American sub-genre of the standard slasher films, a curious sub-genre that I refer to as the “Unstoppable Slasher” movies.  Jason might have gotten the glory, and Freddy the best lines, but Michael beat them both to the punch.  And, in addition to being the first, he was by far the best.

Horror Fans today, long since jaded by multiple sequels, prequels, and even a cross-over, rightfully view each new iteration of these masters of massacre as nothing more than the lowest form of Horror, the cinematic equivalent of a Big Mac and fries… in truth, just more evidence of Hollywood’s contempt for the loyal fans of Horror Films.

But that overlooks just how good … just how influential, these films were when they premiered.  Halloween gave birth to a genre, and resurrected the Franchise concept that had been so successful for both Universal and Hammer Films.  Fans today might decry the never-ending parade of sequels that these films became, and not without reason.  But that fails to acknowledge that there is a reason that Halloween, and films like it, became franchises in the first place:  Because the original movie was so damn good.

If Slasher films are the American version of Italy’s Giallos, then John Carpenter is the American Bava.  One of the best directors in Horror today, as he has been since 1978, Carpenter has been responsible for some of the greatest Genre films of the past thirty years.  The Fog, The Thing, Christine, The Prince of Darkness … all have served to demonstrate the range and ability of Carpenter, and Halloween is, at least in my opinion, his masterwork.  Though not as polished and professional in appearance as his later films, the film’s raw, rough edge helped make it one of the most effective Horror Films of all-time, and the best of the Slasher genre.  The minimalist plot; the silent, emotionless killer; the teen-agers trapped in a peril they’re not even aware of, and Loomis’ absolute conviction that his patient is the physical embodiment of evil.  All of these factors combine to produce a truly suspenseful film—one that slowly builds into a frightening climax while not depending on the cheap, throwaway shocks that would become the hallmark of movies of this type.

This soon became one of the most successful films of the ‘70’s, and was, for a long time, the top-grossing Independent film of all time.  Though it gave rise to a series of sequels, none were helmed by anyone with a hint of Carpenter’s talent, and the series declined rapidly.

A year and a half after the premiere of Halloween, Friday the 13^th made its debut.  Directed by prolific producer Sean S. Cunningham, and owing much to Halloween, F13 was nevertheless a tremendously good movie in it’s own right… not up to the quality of the former film, but easily the best of a weak year for Horror.  The film was hugely successful, well beyond the anticipation of the producers, and a string of sequels soon followed.  Friday the 13^th:  Part II, released one year after the first film, introduced us to Jason Voorhees, the champion of the Slasher circuit, who’s still in business 25 years later.  Yet another sequel is currently in pre-production, with a 2007 release planned.

Four years after F13 began its domination of the sub-genre, Wes Craven gave us his take on the theme with the wisecracking, knife-gloved, ghost-of-a-psychopathic-pedophile Freddy Krueger, in Nightmare on Elm Street.

Craven, certainly the most commercially successful of the great Horror directors that arose in the late ‘60’s-early ‘70’s, predictably took the Unstoppable Slasher movies in a new direction with Freddy, and would resurrect the sub-genre 12 years later with the innovative, and much-copied, Scream.

There were other attempts to create similar horror franchises … the Candyman movies, a doll named Chucky, even a Leprechaun and a Genie.  Some of these movies were actually pretty good.  Most weren't.  But none ever equaled Halloween—the night Michael came home for the first time.