Random Picture #1: 'Zilla waders.

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Contest: Because other blog fandoms are Tokyo and you, dear ANTSS readers, are Godzilla.

It's been too long since I've thrown a contest here, and it's about time I thank all y'all for following along with my ramblings. So here goes . . .

Hot off the presses, from the kind folks at Collins Design, comes Killer Kaiju Monsters: Strange Beasts of Japanese Film. Part light-hearted reference book, part art book, all city-stomping hotness, this handsome hardcover, curated by Ivan Vartanian, contains production stills, photos of kaiju collectables, poster repros, papercraft build-your-own kaiju, and original kaiju themed-art from artist (including the wonderful kaiju cross-section art Shoji Ohtomo). It's a pop kaiju smorgasbord!

And ANTSS is giving away one copy a deserving reader. Retail value: about 28 Washingtons. Number of dead presidents it's going to cost the winner: zero. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Free-city, daddy-o.

Could you be the lucky winner? Sure. Why the hell not? You're as awesome as anybody! It's your time, dammit! Hell yeah!

What do you have to do to win? Easy. Just leave a comment connected to this post saying what city you would stomp if you were a giant monster and why. Tired of Montreal's smug politeness? Think you might be doing Detroit a favor by utterly destroying it? Think an attack on Bakersfield is called for just because nobody would see it coming? You're the giant monster; you make the call. Just tell me what city and why, and you're in the running. One winner will be selected randomly on June 4th. Only one stomp per player.

Because I'm a cheap bastard, I've got to limit this to players in the United States. Not that I don't want to hear what towns my foreign readers would lay waste to, but shipping costs prohibit me from rewarding you for your destructive impulses. Imaginary chaos and devastation will simply have to be their own reward in this case.

Let the stomping begin!

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Stuff: In the cards.

The Pointless Museum web site has wonderful gallery of horror themed Top Trump playing cards.

Top Trumps was a slightly more complicated version of war. Simplified, you and another player compared “traits” and the card with the biggest number won.

Though many of the cards feature recognizable horror icons, my favorites are those that either botch known properties – like the dandy fop Godzilla in a cape and a gambler's tie – or use a known figure to illustrate some weird, ill-fitting generic horror type – such as the use of the robot from The Phantom Creeps as "the cannibal."

Plus, even I, Lucas, enjoy the card of the Fish Man!

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Books: Gorgantis is ready for his close up, Mr. Whale.

Shambling Towards Hiroshima, Jim Morrow's new novella, opens on Sym Thorley, once great horror film star turned has-been horror con signature factory, contemplating suicide. After slogging through his umpteenth presentation about his golden age in the post-Univeral monster era and his last significant as the giant monster Gorgantis, Thorley is seriously considering tossing himself out his hotel window. Before he goes, however, he begins to write down a memoir of his role in Operation Knickerbocker, a super secret World War II Era project to defeat Japan with a small heard of mountain-sized fire breathing mutant iguanas and his complicity in the dawn of the Atomic Age.

As the war in the Pacific drew to a close, American military leadership began to ponder the blood and treasure cost of invading the home islands of the Japanese empire. The Army had one solution: the A-bomb. The Navy had another: unleash giant, pissed-off, fire-breathing iguanas to stomp Japan into submission. However, the deployment of either of these devices would mean ushering humanity into a new and terrible era. Either we kick off a race to obtain ever larger stockpiles of ever more powerful nuclear weapons or we relinquish our status the dominant species on the planet. Far better, the American high command decides, to simply frighten Japan with a harmless demonstration of the destructive capacity of these weapons, secure their surrender, and never actually let either of the genies out of their bottles.

Problem is that we only had two bombs and the lizards, while ready to go, had only two settings: sedated into a near coma state or uncontrollably savage and destructive. Military researchers hit one the idea of breeding a few man-sized versions of the great beasties and letting them cut loose on a giant scale model of a Japanese city. Unfortunately, shrinking these monsters down had the unintentional consequence of making them gentle as kittens.

So now the Navy had a tiny model city, an approaching curtain time, and no scary monster. What to do?

Call Hollywood, of course.

Pulling in director James Whale (yep, that James Whale), also ran monster actor Thorley, and a handful of real life monster movie magic makers that fans of early horror flicks will recognize, the Navy decides that it will simulate the simulated attack, having a man in a convincing rubber suit trash their model city. The prep for this unique performance, all clashing Dream Factory egos and occasionally Kafka-esque military security details, makes up the bulk of the this slim novel. As an added treat, fans get to follow Marrow's name checking. (Sure, James Whale is a bit obvious, but Morrow also manages to work in nearly forgotten era figures, like William "One Shot" Beaudine.)

Part Hollywood satire, part love letter to 1950s horror flicks, part meditation on the suicidal stupidity of Cold War nuclear brinksmanship, what's most surprising about Shambling Towards Hiroshima is how light and nimble the slim book is. Dexterously gliding over some of the greatest horrors of the 20th Century and the nightmares they inspired, the ultimate theme of Shambling might be how the horror genre's job – if one allows mass cult art a social function – is to trivialize the nightmarish aspects of the real world, turning them into easily consumed treats. Fully aware of this weird trick, Shambling take the madness of the nuclear era and turns it into humorously goofy shaggy dog story.

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Movies: Godzilla fades again?

Godzilla Raids Again, the 1955 follow up to the seminal kaiju flick Godzilla, almost managed to do what legions of outsized monsters, alien invaders, and several generations of Japanese Self Defense Force personnel have never managed: Kill off Godzilla. Made the year after Godzilla, Raids was a commercial success; but critical and popular disappointment with the flick sent the big lizard back to Toho storage rooms for a powder. The internationally recognized super-dinosaur would not surface again until 1962, the longest break between films in the same series for the entire 1955 to 2004 run of the franchise. In some ways, this is understandable. With less stunning special effects and a plot that sways unevenly between "strange beast" horror and domestic/workplace drama, Raids is an unwieldy flick that clumsily handles the tone and mood changes demanded by its clunky script. That said, it is a little odd that the film was so poorly received insomuch as Raids more resembles the flicks that would come, the nearly half century of films that would make Godzilla one of the most recognizable cinematic characters in the world, than it does the first film in the series. First and foremost, it starts the crucial shift of focus from the embattled citizens of Japan to the series's titular monster. Second, it establishes the "monster-fight" trope that would become so important to the series that most future film titles would simply be match-up announcements. Finally, it starts moving – though only slightly – towards the idea that Godzilla, in his own insanely destructive and fiercely amoral way, is Japan's protector.

Raids opens when a fishing company spotter-plane pilot, Kobayashi, is forced into an emergency landing on a remote volcanic island. Another pilot, coworker and BFF Tsukioka, comes to his rescue. However, before they can leave the island, they are nearly crushed by Godzilla and a new monster, the dino-armadillo Anguirus. The pilots manage to escape and return to Osaka, where they warn the police about the existence of the two giant monsters. Military and police officials call on Dr. Yamane (played by screen legend and Kurosawa regular Takashi Shimura), survivor of the first film, as a Godzilla expert. Yamane explains that the first Godzilla died, so this is a second monster. He then shows footage of Godzilla's attack on Tokyo (an extended bit of the first flick) and explains that Godzilla can't be defeated, only directed to where he'll do the least harm. As Godzilla seems attracted to light, the doctor recommends that any city Godzilla approaches order a full blackout. Then jet fighters can use flares to draw the mega-lizard back out to sea. Or, perhaps, to some less important town or village. Whatever, so long as it isn't Tokyo again.

Deciding that they can't do anything about Godzilla except stall the inevitable, pilot Tsukioka and girlfriend – Yasuko, the daughter of the fishing company's owner – head out for a night on the town. Unfortunately, their delightful evening at a downtown Osaka dance club is cut short when Godzilla is spotted just off-shore. Operation Not In the Face goes into effect. For a moment, the plan appears to work. Dazzled by the flares, Godzilla turns from Osaka and starts to swim away. But, at that very moment, a prison break occurs which, through a series errors and blunders, ends up creating a massive fire at a gas refinery. This is, of course, all kinds of luminous and Godzilla heads straight for the city. He's joined shortly thereafter by Angurius. Together they pretty much wreck the whole town duking it out.

Godzilla, being Godzilla, ultimately bests Angurius, biting his throat and then melting him with his nuclear breath. Thus Japan is saved from the threat of Angurius, and all it cost was the loss of a major city and life lived under the constant threat of Godzilla attack. If the first flick was an often overt jeremiad of life under the A-bomb, Raids suggests that, one year later, Japan was no more comfortable with their status in the Nuclear Era, but considerably more willing to sacrifice Godzilla as metaphor to Godzilla as entertainer – a decision that would, over time, morph the villain in the child-loving, monster-smashing hero he became in many of the later films.

This shift had a visual component and the presence of footage from the first flick in Raids provides ample illustration of the new approach. The first Godzilla's attack on Tokyo is a shadow-shrouded nightmare, lit only by the flickering flames of the doomed, burning city and the occasional white flash of artiliary. Godzilla is rarely shown in full view and, when he is seen, he's a dark and sometimes almost featureless thing. One of the few near-complete shots of him is an elaborate long shot in which he shares the screen with a foreground of fleeing people, a midfield of fiery wreckage, and him, in the far background, slowly stomping, almost drifting, through the shot. Even today, in the era of CGI, Godzilla's attack on Tokyo from the original film is effective and evocative. In contrast, Godzilla's Osaka rampage is shot like he's the film's star. It starts with a series of close ups, Godzilla remains well lit, the better to show him off to the viewer. His battle with Angurius is filmed with an emphasis on clarity of action (none of the disorienting and frightening confusion of the first flick). Godzilla is no longer some irresistible natural force; instead, he's just the biggest and baddest guy on screen.

As Osaka digs out of the rubble and Tsukioka makes a go of it with his girl, Kobayashi is temporarily moved up north to the fishing concern's Hokkaido branch. Tsukioka and Yasuko come to visit. This leads to a scene in which the girlish and romantic Yasuko witnesses the suits and pilots unwinding at a party hall/geisha house. Yasuko's confusion and discomfort over the rough all-male culture she discovers is finely rendered and genuinely touching. It is a delicately human moment that wouldn't have been out of place in a minor Naruse work. But this scene and the party are quickly shut down when word reaches the group that Godzilla has destroyed on of the company's fishing boats.

This leads to a final confrontation between Self Defense Forces and the King of Monsters on a snow-covered island. Who will live? Who will die? I know because I saw the movie. If you'd been there, you'd know too. Where were you?

Godzilla Raids Again suffers somewhat unfairly because it isn't the sci-fi masterwork its predecessor was, but it hadn't yet become the kaiju-craziness delivery vehicle that its descendants would be. An evolutionary half step, it hangs together kinda precariously and occasionally feels underdeveloped. Still, what does make it on the screen is often entertaining and involving, even for viewers who aren't committed fans of the franchise. In fact, the flick's commitment to character development and its determination to give as big a role to the film's human characters as possible (two traits it shares with the original), it may play better with folks that don't count themselves Godzilla fans than with those who do.

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