Godzilla, My Godzilla

Godzilla and I have a lot in common. We were born the same year and are often misunderstood by the people around us. Additionally, we are both "big boned" (hefty or plus-sized as they say now), are prone to falls, and sometimes get hit in the head. Admittedly, though, for me it's not usually by skyscrapers, giant lobsters or boulders kicked by a rampaging dog-god, though Skylar did throw one of his chew toys at me a couple of weeks ago...yeah, it left a bruise. I also have not been dropped from the upper reaches of the stratosphere by flying alien three-headed dragon kaiju, but you just never know when things like that are going to happen. It's a crazy world these days.

Of course, there are differences too. Godzilla came from beneath the sea. I came from Michigan's Upper Peninsula, but still pretty close to the waters of the Great Lakes. He also has the form of a reptile, whereas I only have the emotions of one. His teeth are a lot better than mine, though I have had five wisdom teeth removed over the years...I still have three. So, while Godzilla has sturdy reptile teeth, I have the dodgy teeth of a geriatric shark, but only the wisdom teeth keep coming back. I suppose people who know me are surprised that I ever had wisdom teeth. Godzilla also has searing atomic breath that can (if the recent Godzilla vs Kong film from legendary is to be believed) burn a hole all the way through to the Hollow Earth. My breath, on the other hand...well, maybe we shouldn't go there. 

Godzilla is famous worldwide, is the subject of the longest running film franchise, has become a cultural icon (and not just in Japan), and is considered a hero by many. For all that though, his origin is very dark, rooted in destruction and death. One day, Tomoyuki Tanaka, a film producer with Toho Company, Ltd, was flying back to Japan. Gazing out the window at the waters of the Pacific, he let his mind wander. What was in the impenetrable dark depths below? The year before, he had seen The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms, which was based on Ray Bradbury's story "The Fog Horn." Could something like that actually survive  the ages? Maybe not, but what if there was something in the deeps that might be awakened? What would it take to rouse an avenging monster?

The Lucky Dragon 5

Also in Tanaka's mind was the fate of the Daigo Fukuryu Maru (Lucky Dragon 5), a fishing vessel with a crew of 23, which was very much in the news. In March of that year, the U.S. detonated the first hydrogen bomb at the Bikini Atoll, an operation designated the Castle Bravo Thermonuclear Test. While fishing for tuna, the ship strayed near the danger zone and was contaminated by radioactive fallout. One man, the chief radioman, died later, but the other crew members recovered, at least for a while. The idea of a hidden underwater beast and the threat of the Atomic Age swirled in Tanaka's daydreams, and Godzilla emerged.

I suppose I first saw Godzilla: King of the Monsters on television, perhaps on Moona Lisa's weekly (on Saturdays) Science Fiction Theatre. Who was Moona Lisa, you ask?

Here's Moona Lisa with 
Forrest J. Akerman
AKA Mr SciFi & the Akermonster

Moona Lisa, movie hostess, was actually Lisa Clark, a newscaster for KOGO (Channel 10) in San Diego, but I did not know that then. Seated amidst a pile of rocks in a dark lunar landscape, surrounded by roiling wisps of "moon smoke," she might have actually been on the Moon. Hey, no one had been there yet, so who was to say? And she did open every show with a sultry and seductive "Hello, Earthlings." If you see it on tv, it has to be true, right? With long, straight black banged hair, stiletto heels and a black catsuit showing more cleavage than any youngster then could imagine (it was a simple, more innocent and less complicated time), she was the "heartthrob of every ten-year-old boy in the city." And I loved her also because she also showed Godzilla.

I always admired the way Godzilla faced the travails of life, never giving an inch, never compromising about anything, never bowing to any foe or surrendering to the inevitable. While I was graduating high school and preparing for the onslaught of a cold, uncaring world, Godzilla was battling Gigan, a bio-engineered killing machine with curved swords for arms and a massive circular saw protruding from his chest. Godzilla did well.

When I turned 21 and could legally drink (actually I could have had a beer or whatever when I was 19 as long as I stayed on an Army post, but I didn't), Godzilla celebrated by kicking Mechagodzilla's butt for the second time. The old trope of fighting fire with fire just did not work out well for the robot's creators, but I could have told them that.

Turning 30 was bad for both of us. Some people tell me "age is just a number," but I also know there are a lot of delusional people in the world these days. I guess I take after my mother. I remember when she turned thirty. The house was filled with weeping and wailing, and I did my best to stay quiet and out of sight. Just a number, huh? I won't say that I spent the day crying over the end of the world, but I will admit I took the day off from work. And how did Godzilla celebrate his 30th birthday? He fell into an erupting volcano. Lucky guy. Obviously, I didn't die when I turned 30. I recall what my son said to me at the time: "Dad, you had to know that sooner or later you'd be 'over the hill.' You just didn't know there was a cliff on the other side." Harsh, but he did have a point. 

Thirty years on, I turned 60 and so did Godzilla. I wanted to celebrate by having a birthday cake with candles, but we could not get a fire permit. The G-Man, however, celebrated in grand style, by staging a massive comeback in the Legendary film Godzilla, the first film by American filmmakers (we do not talk about the Matthew Broderick film) using the venerated Japanese kaiju. I had heard there might be a film in the offing as Godzilla's Diamond Jubilee approached, but I did not have much hope. Still, I wanted to commemorate it myself, so I wrote the following poem, which appeared in my collection Midnight for Schrödinger's Cat & Other Poems:

Godzilla at Sixty

The other kaiju on Monster Island look up, sigh, and shake their heads,

And King Ghidorah gives it a triple nay;

There he goes again, off to Tokyo and points west

Like some trippy day-tripping tourist,

Dressed in the loudest Hawaiian shirt anyone’s ever seen,

Picked up during that disastrous jaunt to the Big Apple,

With a new digital camera strapped ‘round his neck,

Raybans on those once laser-bright eyes,

But with back-spines not much more than a glimmer anymore;

Poor old fellow, taking off like he’s some young lizard just out of the egg,

And on Bingo Night of all times!

Rodan says he’s going senile,

And while the Old Pterodactyl is pretty flighty himself, it’s painfully obvious to all:

He wasn’t quite the same after the Oxygen Destroyer; and

He’s been hit on the head by a lot of skyscrapers; and

How many times can you put new flesh on old bones?

He ought to take it easy like all the other Old Monsters,

Play a nice game of Go with Baragon, even though he toots his own horn,

Or Canasta with Gabara, Varan and Ebirah since they’re always in need of a fourth,

Or, if nothing else, curl up with a good book like Manda,

Though when you're a giant snake what else can you do?

But he does as he wants, as he always has, and always does,

Saying, “Ain’t I the King of the Monsters?” and

“It’s good to be the King,”

Which of course makes Junior do a face-palm on the throne

And say, “Hey, Dad, what am I—chopped sushi?”

But even he knows there’s no talking sense to the Old Boy,

Telling him that the tsunamis from his walker are making a mess,

That Cthulhu has called twice to complain about the noise,

That he won’t get nearly the screen time he thinks he will,

That he’s almost out of his radioactive arthritis medicine,

And he’s probably going to be slapped with a lawsuit by the EPA;

But, you know what, he’s smiling,

And it’s been too long since anyone has seen those choppers in a grin;

So maybe none of the other stuff really matters,

Not the pain or the slowness or the inevitable retaliation by puny Humanity;

Maybe what’s important is this—that the World knows,

That the World gets reminded by a ROAR like none other,

That he’s still the King of the Monsters,

And even at Sixty it’s good to be the King.

Of all the Godzilla films, including the latest ones from America, my favorite is Godzilla vs Destroya. It shows Godzilla in dire straits, yet striving forward no matter what, ignoring his impending doom to fight the menace loosed by the rediscovery of the Oxygen Destroyer technology from the very first film. We see that Dr Serizawa's sacrifice of his life to hide the secret was the right thing to do, but that it was for naught because of human stupidity. In this film, we see Godzilla making the same sacrifice to save us from ourselves, but we also see a great rebirth. The composer for this film stated that after he finished composing the music for the finale, he felt as if had died with Godzilla. I know what he means.

I have seen myself in Godzilla and sometimes see him in me, at least a little bit. I think perhaps there is something of Godzilla in all of us, something of us in him. There is at times a yearning to roar at the world. And who roars better than Godzilla?

And now something on a lighter note, my latest model building project:

Aiming for the Moon

After almost five decades, I finally had the time and space to get back into a hobby that I enjoyed very much as a kid: building scale models. Of course, things had changed somewhat, not only in the hobby and in my own life, but in the world as well. Models were much more expensive and harder to find since model shops seems to be heading toward extinction, as are bookstores. As a lad, my hands were more nimble in handling small parts and they were not stricken by arthritis. Not everything has changed for the worse, though. I am much more patient now and and there are loads more resources available now, primarily the internet and YouTube. There was no one to ask about model building when I was a kid, but now all the information I want is just a few keystrokes away or accessible with an Amazon Firestick.

One of the models I built was the Luna, the spaceship from Destination Moon. It was not a complicated build, but still very fun. It's more of a painting project, really, than an assembly project. The ship itself is classic silver, hand painted, not sprayed. The based was very colorful by the time I got through with it, using various metallic acrylics, as I did when I built the Dick Tracy Magnetic Space Coup.

I've seen the film several times, but decided to read up on it anyway. I was rather shocked when, according to Wikipedia and IMDB, the film was based on the Robert A, Heinlein novel Rocket Ship Galileo. I knew this was wrong, that the the film was based on his novella The Man Who Sold the Moon, but everywhere I looked confirmed the information. I wondered, at least briefly, if I had slipped into an alternate history, you know the kind of place where the children's books about the Bears are Berenstein rather than Berenstain, or where Nelson Mandela did not die in prison.

I read Rocket Ship Galileo in second or third grade, and several times since then. For those who don't know the plot, three teenagers go to the Moon in a rocket ship invented by one boy's uncle. There they discover a secret Nazi base. There are no kids in the film, no uncle, and definitely no Moon Nazis. The film has much in common, however, with The Man Who Sold the Moon, an industrialist building a lunar rocket and using his project to lead humanity into space. Well, I know films often do not come out much like the books upon which they are based.

David Morrell, author of First Blood, made a comment in his book, Lessons Learned from a Lifetime of Writing, that when Hollywood gets their mitts on a book, it will be changed in ways the author never dreamed. In the film contract for First Blood was a clause for a sequel. He wanted to know how the heck there could be a sequel since nearly everyone in the book died. He was told (paraphrasing): "Listen, kid, if the film is successful and they want to make a sequel, there will be a sequel, even if they have to turn it into a pirate musical set on a submarine." There are reasons why I live in dread of success, and having to deal with Hollywood comprises almost all of them. Still, no teenage inventors, no crazy uncle and, most of all, no Moon Nazis. On the other hand, look what Hollywood did to World War Z ("The film contained everything you loved about the title"), I am Legend and Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

However, if one wants Moon Nazis (and who doesn't?), there's always the unabashedly satiric, goofy and occasionally funny Iron Sky and its rather pulpish sequel Iron Sky: The Coming Race. Personally, I think it easier to make a case that Iron Sky is a loose (very loose) adaptation of Rocket Ship Galileo than was Destination Moon. It's the Moon Nazis, you know.

Whatever Happened to Space Cruiser C-57D?

Forbidden Planet (1956) is one of those films that stays with you. It must, because I recall seeing it when it first played at the Bay Theatre in National City. Back in those days, people arrived at the theater whenever they arrived. If they arrived late for the start of a film, they stayed until the film restarted, leaving when they could say, "Ah, this is where I came in." My parents were not great film goers and not at all science fiction fans, so I'm really surprised they went to this film at all. I don't recall the other film, cartoon, newsreel or serial that was also shown that day, but I do recall when they left ("Ah, this is where we came in") because, as I was being carried out (I was much smaller in those days), I saw, over my dad's shoulder, the steps leading to the spaceship bending under the weight of the "monster from the id." I really wanted to stay, but, given that I had already seen the monster, I also really wanted to leave. Looking back, I think I was actually more frightened of the invisible menace, the sight of those metal steps bending when I could see nothing upon them, than I was of the roaring, fiery creature that manifested itself from the savage and primal "id" of Doctor Morbius, augmented by the technomagical devices of the lost Krell Civilization. It is a great film and still holds up now, nearly seventy years later. Unfortunately, MGM chose not to cash in on the success of its surprise hit. So, we have been left to wonder all these years, whatever happened to Space Cruiser C-57D and its intrepid crew after escaping the destruction of Altair IV?

I suppose it was inevitable in this age of fan fiction and instant publication that someone would accept the challenge and give the world the rest of the story. This happened in 2016 when Tony Rubolotta published Forbidden Outpost, a novel "for the fans of Forbidden Planet."

Available from Amazon

The rubber-stamped "AMAZING!" on the cover is taken from the promotional poster and lobby card of the film, but it's a fairly apt description of Rubolotta's story. Although there are a few awkward plot elements and an intrusion from a notable frontier stereotype, the author does a very good job of carrying the story forward, expanding upon the characters from the film and fleshing out the world of the United Planets, which was only mentioned in passing in the original film. And, of course, we find out more about the mysterious Krell...a lot more.

I thought one of the most clever aspects of the story was how Rubolotto depicted the human settlement on the planet where a hidden outpost of the Krell survived unsuspected. Instead of reaching into our future, which would have been the book's present, he instead went Retro, drawing upon Mid-Century tropes, types and architecture. Really, it's a great idea. The 1950s is just ancient and alien to the characters in the book as it is to most people now. I don't want to give away anything of the story, but if you like the film, you'll probably like the book.

"Since our daughter is no longer with us..."

I have never hidden the fact that a good portion of my life has been wasted watching old cheesy films. Most of that time has, of course, been spent in front of the tv set, starting with a small b&w set that I had to sit close to ("Get back from the tv," Mom would say. "You'll ruin your eyes!"). Today, however, I have a large color set that allows me to sit across the room and watch in relative comfort. On the new set, I can also stream digital content, allowing me to watch more old films than ever, so, yes, still a lot of b&w cheese. In addition to the wandering wasteland of television, I also spent a fair amount of time in theaters.

The first theater I recall is the Bay Theater in National City. It was built in 1941 and had a distinctive tower with BAY written down it. It was neon-lit and visible from all the roads around. I recall many times seeing that tower from the back seat of my father's or grandfather's car and wishing I were there. It really didn't matter to me what was playing as long as I was there, preferably with a box of popcorn, a cup of soda and a tube of Flicks. We lived in the 1100 block of East 17th Street (unpaved then), a little over a mile from the theater. It was too far away for me to walk alone (so my mother claimed), but I frequently walked down to it with the Eleazar kids from across the street...yes, I know, but it was a different world back then and no one called CPS just because kids were being kids. In addition to the films of the time (e.g., Forbidden Planet and Earth vs The Flying Saucers), I also saw newsreels, cartoons and serials, such as Zombies of the Stratosphere ("Isn't that Leonard Nimoy as the Martian?" asks a dubbed voice in J-Men Forever; "I don't know," replies another dubbed voice, "I can't see his ears."). Then we moved to Chula Vista. The Bay Theater later came to an ignominious end -- first it became a Spanish church, then high winds blew the tower down. I don't know if one had anything to do with the other, but at least it was something that wasn't my fault...for once.

When we moved to Chula Vista, I discovered the local theater, the Vogue, was even father away than the Bay. But, it was still a different world, so off I went. I didn't have older kids to walk with me anymore, but I figured what my mother didn't know couldn't hurt me. Besides, I was nine by then, almost an adult. Yes, I lived dangerously...I even drank water straight out of the hose. You might say I grew up in Chula Vista, but I also grew up in the Vogue Theatre (note the classy English spelling) watching every film my parents wouldn't take me to see...they were never big movie goers, but I never held that against them, much.

The Vogue in better days

When the Wife and I had kids, I looked forward to not going to the cinema alone...the Wife would go from time to time, but she did not revel in the experience as I did. Too many people, she claimed. Especially too many unruly kids. I have to admit, she had a point there. When I went to the movies as a kid, I was never unruly. No, really! It would have been a shock to both my mother and my teachers had they seen how well behaved I was when the lights went down, the curtains parted and the film began. But I was there for the film, and once the film started, I was a part of it, totally absorbed.

Unfortunately, our son was never really a devoted film goer. Oh, he like going to the movies, all right, but it had to be a film he was interested in, such as Star Wars. Our daughter (the Kidette), however, had tastes that were as catholic as mine. Well, let's just say she didn't complain no matter what film I dragged her to. Likewise, I can't count the number of chick-flicks and teen-angst movies she took me to. And, please, don't ask me how many times I saw Center Stage. But it was all enjoyable, every single film. Mostly, though, because the Kidette was with me.

One of our traditions was to get a tub of popcorn and a large soda. The Vogue had a policy that if you brought back the receipt you got a free refill. Great. Whether it was a double feature or a triple, we had more than enough to last us to the final end credits of the final movie, and we always stayed for the last credit. Unfortunately, time passed and our daughter moved. I was back to solitary viewings. 

It should have occurred to me that I could not possibly eat two full tubs of buttered popcorn, but it didn't. The first time I went without the Kidette, I bought a tub and was more than stuffed by the time I got to the end of it. What to do? My Protestant ethic screamed at the prospect of that free refill going to waste. I then noticed a mom and her kids sitting in front of me. They had no popcorn.

Me: Pardon me ma'am, but would you and your kids like a free popcorn?
Her: Uh...
Me: I have a receipt for a tub of popcorn, and the theater gives free refills.
Her: Uh...well...
Me: My daughter and I used to share a tub at the movies, but she's no longer with us, and I can't eat the whole thing myself.
Her: Oh, you poor man. I am so sorry. Thank you very much.

After she took the receipt and scurried off to get the free popcorn, I realized how she must have interpreted what I said. I changed seats. "Dad!" my daughter scolded. "You made her think I was dead. I only moved out. I didn't die!" Well, really, is my fault she took it that way? I didn't say anything that wasn't true...that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

The Vogue in badder days

Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever, and just as that applies to little boys and dragons, so it also applies to movie theaters. The Vogue opened in the winter of 1945 and closed its doors in the summer of 2006, after showing a triple-feature of Fast & Furious: Tokyo Drift, Over the Hedge and Poseidon. I really didn't want to tell the Kidette about the fate of our beloved theater. So when she came down for a visit I put her in the car and drove down Third Avenue. She didn't cry...well, not much.

The Vogue's Facebook page - link below

Sometimes the dead return, or so Stephen King and HP Lovecraft tell us, and that may be the fate of the Vogue. According to its Facebook page, the Vogue is being renovated as an entertainment, event and dining/drinking experience. They also claim they are going to maintain the historic exterior. I hope that's true, but, of course, it will never be the same. Still, if I look at the facade and see it restored to its former glory, I will fondly relive better days. If all that comes to pass, I will probably go to the proposed outdoor dining area, have a beer and raise a glass to toast my my movie memories.

The Gods Hate Kansas?

A large portion of my wasted youth was spent eroding my brain by watching cheesy old films. Well, some things don't change, so a few days ago I was looking for something to further erode my brain on Amazon Fire Streaming, when I came across a film called They Came from Beyond Space, a 1967 flick from Amicus Productions, a company I mostly knew from some very good Edgar Rice Burroughs adaptations and two really, really bad Doctor Who TV movies. 

I thought, well, it could be an undiscovered gem or it might be dreck. Either way, it's 85 minutes. And I thought it would at least be passable, it being a British film. Yes, I know...I saw Devil Girl from Mars, but at least everyone had a British accent, and that automatically makes everything classier, such as when a developer names a housing development Robin Hood Estates rather than Pleasant Acres. But, then I recalled The Crawling Eye and how Tempean Films imported American actor Forrest Tucker (F Troop) to play the lead or how Hammer Films brought in Brian Donlevy to play the quintessential British scientist Professor Bernard Quatermass in the 1955 theatrical version of The Quatermass Experiment. So I gave in and took a sneak peek at IMDB: the lead actor is American Robert Hutton, but at least almost everyone will have a British accent. And it will still be 85 minutes. And I still had nothing else to do at the moment. So I queued the film and pressed start.

From almost the beginning of the film, I got a sense of deja vu, but when you have seen as many films as I have (I bought the book Science Fiction Films of the Fifties, and it was like reading the story of my youth) it's a common feeling. About the time they mentioned meteorites falling in a field and Hutton's character having a metal plate in his head, I thought: The Gods Hate Kansas, in which meteorites fall in a Kansas field and a character has a metal plate in his head preventing him from being taken over by alien intelligences hidden inside the meteorites. I also thought of "Corpus Earthling," an episode of The Outer Limits (original), but since that was about a scientist with a metal plate in his head that allowed him to listen to rocks plotting world domination, that was a totally different thing altogether. Well, mostly different. Well, at least the meteorites in They Came from Beyond Space and The Gods Hate Kansas didn't talk. A quick look trip back to IMDB confirmed my suspicion, that the film was indeed based on a book I didn't think anyone else besides me had ever read.

The Gods Hate Kansas was written by Joseph J. Millard (1908 - 1989) and first published in Startling Stories in 1941, then again in 1952 as a reprint in Fantastic Story Magazine. The version I read was a mass market paperback published by Monarch Books in 1964 with a very nice pulpish cover by Jack Thurston (1919 - 2017). Millard's flirtation with science fiction occupied only the first half of the Forties, after which he went on to be a teacher, and he confined his writing to westerns, memoirs, biographies, essays and poetry.

There are some differences between book and film, but when are there not? When David Morell's debut novel First Blood was optioned to be filmed as Rambo, the question of a sequel came up. Morell was perplexed by the idea. He asked, "How can there be a sequel when I've killed everyone off?" Older and wiser Hollywood hands told him, "If the movie is successful, there will be a sequel, no matter how they have to change your book. And the book will be changed. If they want to make it into a musical aboard a submarine, that's what they'll do." Fortunately, Rambo did not become an underwater musical, and neither were there any tremendous changes between The Gods Hate Kansas and They Came from Beyond Space.

The greatest changes are that the field is in England, not Kansas, and though the gods may still hate Kansas (more meteors fall there than anywhere else, according to the book) they don't hate England. The landing site still goes "dark" and the scientists begin acting weird. The metal plate is still in the main character's head and it still keeps him from being taken over by the aliens. The aliens are still tired of being marooned on the Moon and still want to use our planet's resources to escape their long imprisonment. And the moral of the story is still the same: "Why didn't you simply ask us for help?"

One other thing that's also the same -- the science. Millard was a good writer, but science was not his forte. When one of the aliens was told that no known propulsion system on earth could get a rocket to the Moon and back in less than 24 hours, the alien replies: "Our propulsion system was not developed on Earth." All in all, it's probably a good thing Millard found his calling in education and genres other than science fiction.

I have to admit, I did enjoy the film, but probably will not revisit it. That's something else the film has in common with the book.

If you're also into slightly cheesy science fiction, you might try my two steampunk novels, Shadows Against the Empire and Amidst Dark Satanic Mills. For the thousands who prefer not to do business with Amazon you can get Shadows Against the Empire and Amidst Dark Satanic Mills from your favorite e-book retailer or even ask your local library to stock them through Overdrive. For those who have already read the Folkestone & Hand Interplanetary Steampunk Adventures, a third book in the series, The Spirit-Haunted Moon will be published in 2020. Thanks for your support.