Hello everyone! I was originally intending for this to be a one-time thing, but I ended up enjoying the process of writing this so much that you can consider it the start of a new intermittent series that I’d like to call VHS POISONING! Don’t worry, this isn’t gonna be every week, or even necessarily every month— but every once in a while I’d like to do something in this vein, where I explore a (broadly, generally horror-themed) sub-niche of VHS tapes that I obsessively pored over as a kid. Let me know how you feel about it!
If you’re a regular reader of this newsletter, I apologize in advance that it isn’t about music, but also hope you’ll stick around anyway— this is some of my most unhinged writing yet, and I am genuinely proud of it if I say so myself. And if this ends up getting around to corners of the Internet that don’t engage with my content as frequently, and you’re here to read about kaiju flicks, thank you for reading! If you enjoy this I encourage you to take a look around at some of my other writing and maybe hop on board my ship, or even contribute to my Patreon for an extra essay every month! And hey, even if you don’t dig me that much, but you really liked this writeup, consider tipping me on my Venmo over at xyoudontneedmapsx and/or giving my Twitter a follow! With that out of the way, let’s dive in.
Recently deciding that I chafe at being considered solely a music journalist (because “pop culture writer” is so much more dignified, am I right?), but still wanting to write something that bears some relevance to the current zeitgeist, what avenue am I left with but to write about Godzilla vs. Kong, which releases the day that I am writing this? Unfortunately, if you’re looking for a review of that movie, I regret to inform you that I will probably not be watching it until after I write this. But if you are new to the world of giant monster movies and the hype around Godzilla vs. Kong has gotten you psyched, don’t worry— I still have something valuable to offer you here.
See, as a Zillennial, I grew up in the unique position of being one of the last generations of children who had easy access to mountains and mountains of VHS releases whenever my family hit up Blockbuster, Hollywood Video, or the library (do libraries still have VHS tapes?) for the next couple days’ entertainment. Since my entire family has always been made up of pop culture junkies, it typically worked like this: my parents would pick a movie they were interested in seeing that wasn’t really for me, but which they would often watch while I was in the general vicinity anyway (Cruel Intentions, Lake Placid, Urban Legend, or something like that); we would pick a movie that all of us would actively watch together as a family (say, the 1985 Clue with Tim Curry); and they would also let me roam the aisles and select a VHS or two that I wanted to watch for myself (and, later, my brother would be allowed to input his opinion, not that it mattered).
The video store and the library would often have tapes of kids’ TV shows like Inspector Gadget or Dragon Ball Z (I specifically remember that for some reason they had an uncensored version of the episode where Frieza brutally impales Krillin), and I would often sneak into the horror section to deliberately traumatize myself with the freaky covers (the cover of Dead Alive— the American version of Peter Jackson’s Braindead— effectively fucked me up for several months), but the things I returned to most often were Scooby-Doo (which deserves a post of its own at some point; I could probably write an In Search of Lost Time-length novel about the 2002 live-action movie alone) and, most salient for our purposes here, Godzilla movies.
Being born in 1996, some of my earliest conscious memories take place right in that late-1999/early-to-mid 2000 sweet spot: the Blair Witch Project Scooby-Doo parody that Cartoon Network aired during a Halloween marathon (which freaked me out on its own merits before I ever knew what The Blair Witch Project was); the episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer where Buffy fought Dracula; and the Heisei-era Godzilla movies.
You see, patient reader, part of the big marketing push for the 1998 American version of Godzilla (which you may remember as A. the pigshit Roland Emmerich version, B. the version where Matthew Broderick says “That’s a lot of fish,” or C. the version they did a remix of Green Day’s “Brain Stew” for) was that Tristar finally distributed the late 80s-mid 90s run of Godzilla movies, most of which had previously only been available in Japan. Well, there was an Americanized version of 1984’s The Return of Godzilla, dubbed Godzilla 1985, which slotted a much older Raymond Burr in the same role he took in the 1956 Americanized version of the original Godzilla, but it was really really bad. If you think that’s confusing, unfortunately, that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the nonsense endemic to the Godzilla franchise’s fraught history.
But my point is that I was blessed to come into my Godzilla fandom through some of the coolest and darkest films in the whole franchise, which resulted in a lifelong love affair with the G-man, and then monster movies in general. By the time I was hitting the end of grade school I was also rabidly into horror movies, many of which were hard to find in your average video store; I ended up special requesting shit-tons of obscure 80s splatter movies and horribly-translated kaiju flicks from the library, which was somewhat of a mixed blessing for my parents— the library was free, but my interests were increasingly concerning (and my dad soon grew tired of telling the librarians over and over again it was okay for me to check out horror movies with insane box art— eventually this became part of his impetus for teaching me how to pirate shit online).
But the bottom line is: I fucking love kaiju movies. And while I hesitate to come across like a crotchety old fart on the subject of CGI, I can’t deny that broadly, I prefer the Suitmation special effects from the tokusatsu films. (There’s some anime I really dig, but rest assured, my main source of weebitude stems from Japanese monster movies.) There’s something about the practical effects that gives weight, depth, and a visceral realness to the action onscreen; not that there haven’t been any CGI-reliant films to have a strong impact, but it’s much harder to get that same crunch. Going into writing this with the knowledge that it’s far more likely you’ve seen the newer Monsterverse movies (which, don’t get me wrong, are pretty great), this here is your guide to becoming a true-blue kaiju nerd.
A quick glossary of terms, for the uninitiated:
“Kaiju” means “strange beast.” Though traditionally used to refer to specifically Japanese movies about giant rampaging monsters (usually starring a man in a rubber suit), said movies became enormously influential elsewhere in the world, and the term itself has also exploded in popularity in recent years. Relatedly, tokusatsu basically just means “special effects,” but it has a broader connotation not just of monster movies, but also of stuff like Ultraman, Kamen Rider, and Super Sentai, which would eventually provide the basis for the Power Rangers franchise. I’ll assume you understand what this entails.
The Showa era usually refers to the first and longest run of Godzilla movies, starting with the 1954 original and ending with 1975’s Terror of MechaGodzilla. It is known for the evolution of Godzilla from monstrous and terrifying to cutesy savior of children and mankind, although many of the films of this era also show Godzilla as something more neutral and even capable of being manipulated by outside forces. If you think of Godzilla movies as “men in rubber suits doing ridiculously corny things,” you’re probably thinking of these movies and moments like this, although there are some remarkable moments of brutality that people tend to forget about unfairly, like this moment where MechaGodzilla (disguised as Godzilla) performs a Mortal Kombat-tier fatality on longtime G-ally Anguirus.
The Heisei era refers to the run of Godzilla movies from 1984’s The Return of Godzilla to 1995’s Godzilla vs. Destoroyah. It is also often referred to as the “versus” era since so many of these movies are about Godzilla going head-to-head against other monsters. These movies are notable because of their much darker tone and their much more polished special effects, including wetter, grosser, more realistic monster designs and more blood and gore during battles. One point of contention for many G-fans with these movies is that the monster fights have a tendency to forgo some of the more sophisticated choreography of the Showa films for fights that lapse into laser-beam showdowns, but as a fan of Dragon Ball Z, I’m perfectly fine with beam fights.
The Millennium era refers to the brief series of films that Toho rushed into production in an attempt to reclaim Godzilla’s reputation after the horribly disrespectful 1998 abomination, starting with Godzilla 2000 in 1999 and ending with, appropriately Godzilla Final Wars in 2004, just in time for G-man’s 50th birthday. Aesthetically, they split the difference between the grounded darkness of the Heisei era and the over-the-top ridiculousness of the Showa era rather well, but the refusal to really lean into one approach over the other hurts some of the films in this era. There’s still some great gems to be found, especially when the directors clearly understand and love the character.
The Reiwa era refers to the current era of Godzilla movies, but does not include the American Monsterverse films (because those are not produced by Toho). It does, however, include the trilogy of Godzilla anime films which can be streamed on Netflix. This era is the first to primarily focus on animation and CGI rather than practical effects, although they tend to do a much better job than the horribly-aged 1998 Godzilla (who fans refer to as Zilla, because he took the “God” out— get it?). As this era is still in progress, it’s a bit harder to define primary trends.
Please note: Godzilla (and even his extended universe of monsters) are far from the only kaiju, and there are Showa, Heisei, and Millennium eras for everyone else too (although, when not used specifically for Godzilla, these terms are mostly used to refer to films starring Gamera and Mothra). However, there are no non-Japanese kaiju movies that fall into these eras. Generally speaking, if a kaiju movie was made in Japan (usually, though not exclusively) by the Toho or Daiei studios, it’s safe to divide them into these eras; if it’s an American film (or if it’s a Korean film, like The Host, Yongary, and Pulgasari, or even if it’s a joint production between America, England, and Ireland like Gorgo), these eras do not apply.
ENTRY-LEVEL. If you have only watched the most recent American Monsterverse movies (Godzilla 2014, Kong: Skull Island, Godzilla: King of the Monsters, and/or Godzilla vs. Kong), start here.
Godzilla (1954). There is a wealth of writing on the subject of what this movie represented and continues to represent in Japanese society with regards to the effects of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki (and continuous atrocities visited upon Japan by the American military-industrial complex; in fact, some of the most significant edits in the 1956 Americanized version specifically remove perceived “anti-American sentiment”— watch the original opening scene of this movie and then look up Bikini Atoll and Lucky Dragon No. 5), but I feel like a lot of people forget that Godzilla movies never stopped being thematically “about” serious issues throughout Japan’s history, especially the multiple Godzilla flicks that explicitly speak to issues of environmentalism. In any case, this is the only Godzilla movie that still feels significantly “scary” in any sort of real sense. There are some really fucking dark moments in this movie (including a woman telling her children while Godzilla is burning Tokyo, “Don’t cry, we’ll be with daddy soon, just a few more minutes and we’ll be with daddy again”— holy fucking shit. It really doesn’t help that she is later shown dying of radiation poisoning in the hospital— the American edit reshuffles these events, diluting and arguably even negating their impact, and is a great example of why it’s always best to seek out the original Japanese versions) even outside of its allegorical implications, but taken as a whole it’s an immensely powerful piece of cinema.
Shin Godzilla (2016). This movie won a shit-ton of Japanese Academy Awards and is sometimes regarded as one of, if not the, best Godzilla films ever made. If you’re a fan of Neon Genesis Evangelion, the creator of that series, Hideaki Anno, is one of the directors behind this one, so you should definitely check it out. It’s notable in particular because, outside of the original, I’d argue that this entry has the best focus on the human side of the story, which people often brush past as being inconsequential in kaiju films. This movie is a satire of the Japanese government’s response to both the Fukushima nuclear disaster and the 2011 tsunami, but it’s equally empathetic as it is cutting, at times feeling like a slightly more warm-hearted version of an Iannucci film. The special effects strike a pretty good balance between CGI and practical, making this one of the most aesthetically pleasing Godzilla flicks out there as well.
Pacific Rim (2013). I’d argue that you should watch this film twice— once before you get into kaiju properly, as a way of whetting your appetite for the genre (since Guillermo del Toro does an amazing job of stylizing the aesthetic and making it much more palatable for a Western audience, with the help of a characteristically great performance from Charlie Day), and once after you’re more intimately familiar with the film’s inspirations so that you can appreciate it as the love letter for the genre that it is. The more I think about it, it’s actually one of my favorite del Toro films outright (alongside Pan’s Labyrinth, the first Hellboy, Blade II, and The Devil’s Backbone).
Cloverfield (2008). I haven’t seen any of the sequels to this movie, and there’s an argument to be made that it is harder to appreciate without the benefit of the marketing and alternate reality game that surrounded its initial release, but it’s still one of the most creative approaches to both the kaiju and found footage genres. TJ Miller is super-annoying in this one (and this is coming from someone who actually really liked him before he got canceled), so fair warning, but as far as Westernized kaiju movies that really seem to understand the primal fear of destruction and societal collapse at the heart of the genre, the original Cloverfield is still pretty bracing.
The Host (2006). I think there has been some renewed interest in this film due to the fact that its director, Bong Joon-ho, reaped massive rewards with his class-struggle masterpiece Parasite, but definitely don’t mistake that for being overhyped. This is one of the first entries on this list that is very questionably “kaiju” (people get really anal about that term, and I admit that sometimes I’m one of those people), but it’s just as satirical and weighty as his more famous effort, complete with CGI effects that have surprisingly aged better than many others.
HONORABLE MENTION: Gareth Edwards’ Monsters (2010), an indie flick that actually got him his Godzilla gig later on. Pretty good stuff, and easy to stomach if you’re still getting used to the kaiju vibes, but it’s not a masterclass of the genre like many of the others I’ll be talking about here.
ROOTS OF THE GENRE. If you thought the special effects of the original Godzilla were really fascinating (and keeping in mind that they were innovating almost all of the Suitmation stuff pretty much on the fly), it’s important to watch these movies to get a grounded sense of where the kaiju genre came from.
Ray Harryhausen flicks. If you watched Monsters, Inc. as a kid, you might remember that Mike Wazowski got himself and Celia reservations at the restaurant Harryhausen’s; that’s a shout-out to this guy, whose pioneering brand of stop-motion animation (“Dynamation”) was a huge influence on Godzilla. Specifically, his work on the 1953 film The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms was a palpable influence on the original G-man flick. Later stuff like It Came from Beneath the Sea codified what we would think of as giant monsters on film (and his work on Earth vs. the Flying Saucers is equally formative in terms of aliens, not just in 50s and 60s B-movies but also for movies like Spielberg’s Close Encounters). You also probably watched Jason and the Argonauts in school at some point, and seen it’s influence if you’ve watched Army of Darkness (which, side note, Bruce Campbell is outrageously attractive in).
King Kong (1933). Ignore the Peter Jackson version (although I still suffered through it out of loyalty to my lord and savior Jack Black). The special effects may look janky now, but I actually still find them pretty fascinating to look at and analyze. In any case, King Kong was rereleased in Japan shortly before the original Godzilla entered production— coincidence? Not even remotely.
HEAVY AND DARK KAIJU FILMS. If the oppressive, palpable horror and/or biting social commentary of Godzilla, Shin Godzilla, and The Host spoke to or fascinated you, check these out.
The Return of Godzilla (1984). Historically, this is an important film in the Godzilla franchise because, as the first film of the Heisei era, it shook off some of the rot that had set in throughout the Showa era. Most particularly, it displayed no small amount of resentment towards the fact that Godzilla, a figure who was as much a tragic victim of circumstance as much as he was a horrific and destructive force of nature, had become something of a superhero. This movie retconned the entirety of the post-1954 Godzilla timeline and in the process made him something close to legitimately scary again. His design, which had devolved into something cartoonish enough that he could do his famous victory dance, became much more weighty, spiky, and pissed-looking (no doubt helped by his more cat-like eyes), and this movie takes a markedly brutal approach to his rampaging, not only taking care to show the human cost in a way that many films of the Showa era overlooked, but also (and this is a controversial opinion), the storyline centered around the prime minister in this movie is genuinely pretty moving. It’s not the best Heisei-era G-flick (for those, see the below two entries), but it is a necessary watch to see how versatile the character can be even after he appears to have been completely neutered.
Godzilla vs. Biollante (1989). Now, this is (almost) inarguably the finest Heisei era Godzilla flick, and in the running for my favorite Godzilla flick along with its main competition (again, see below). Thematically, it’s one of the most explicitly environmentalist Godzilla films, and has some interesting things to say about the limits of science’s right to interfere with nature, which intermingles with Godzilla’s versatility as a character (since Biollante is, partially, a product of Godzilla— both of these themes get lost even as the Heisei series repeats them ad nauseam, such as in the running-on-autopilot Godzilla vs. SpaceGodzilla). But if you’re not into that, Biollante is also easily one of the freakiest-looking kaiju of all time— just check out all her rows of teeth, goodness fucking gracious! This is the movie that announced the Heisei era as home to the darkest Godzilla films since the original, even if the rest of said era never really lived up to its promise.
Godzilla vs. Destoroyah (1995). This movie is famous because, even though it wasn’t contemporaneously released in America, you can easily go on YouTube and find a litany of American news reports from the time discussing how the film killed the G-man. (This was because Toho, very foolishly, trusted the American team to do the 1998 film right.) It might sound silly, but the reason this film is in this section is because it actually manages to pull this off with a real degree of pathos. Similar to Tony Stark, Godzilla’s heart is essentially a failing nuclear reactor, and one of the two main fears of this movie is that when he finally melts down, it will essentially cause a nuclear winter. The other main fear of this movie is the titular Destoroyah, who is the only kaiju that’s ever come close to matching Biollante for sheer fearsomeness (listen to his fucking weird, high-pitched roar). He also functions almost like a slasher movie villain, deliberately picking on people rather than rampaging recklessly. But even though the movie is good all the way through, the climax is an absolute show-stopper; Godzilla’s extended meltdown sequence is (I’m not exaggerating in the least) tragic as hell, and even though many people don’t like Godzilla Jr. (I’m partial to both him and Minilla myself, as my Twitter cover photo will tell you), you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who doesn’t feel at least a smidge of empathy for him here.
The Heisei Gamera trilogy— Gamera: Guardian of the Universe (1995), Gamera 2: Attack of the Legion (1996), and Gamera 3: Revenge of the Iris (1999). These films were helmed by Shusuke Kaneko, who will appear later in this list as well; his love for the art of the kaiju film is unreal, and it’s presented in full force here. The way he frames his shots makes Gamera appear like a genuinely monstrous threat, which is no mean feat. See, Gamera is a giant, flying turtle whose name almost always appears next to the phrase “Friend to all children.” He was created in the 60s by Daiei in order to compete with the success of Toho’s Godzilla movies and descended into corny rot even faster than Godzilla’s Showa films (there are literally five episodes of Mystery Science Theater 3000 devoted to mocking Gamera titles, and they are up there with Manos: The Hands of Fate and Hobgoblins for the very best the show has to offer). While Kaneko takes care not to pull a Frank Miller on Gamera here (he is still unquestionably the hero of this story), the stakes are genuinely high, which, when assisted by the absolutely wonderful special effects displays, the engaging monster fights, and the genuinely compelling human side stories, all come together to create what could be regarded as the very best kaiju movies of all time. Yeah, I’ll say it— I’d put these films up against pretty much any of Godzilla’s finest hours. If you want to truly identify as a kaiju nerd, these movies are a prerequisite.
THE BIG, THE BAD, AND THE SILLY. Even though many kaiju movies are potent pieces of dark filmmaking, there will always be an inherent silliness to them, especially apparent if you’re the type of person who finds it difficult to suspend disbelief (and if you didn’t grow up with them like I did, watching rubber-suited men kick the shit out of each other is very, very funny— I did grow up with them and I find them funny at face value, too). If you want movies that lean into that goofiness and make no apologies for it, these are your best bets.
Son of Godzilla (1967). This is the first appearance of Minilla, Godzilla’s son. While the next movie to heavily feature him, 1969’s All Monsters Attack, is a turgid and boring pile of shit made for six-year-olds and apparently nobody else, there is still a lot to like in this one from a comedic perspective, the vast majority of which seems to be on purpose. Godzilla is basically a complete asshole of a deadbeat dad, and his attempts to teach Minilla how to be a kaiju are as lazy as they are laughable. I can’t find a clip that isn’t russet-potato quality, but at one point, Godzilla straight up stomps on the kid’s tail to produce his trademark atomic breath, and it always makes me laugh uncontrollably. There’s also some light pathos; the scene where Minilla plays with Godzilla’s tail is weirdly heartwarming. This is the best of the kiddie Godzilla films for sure.
Invasion of Astro-Monster (1965) and Godzilla vs. Megalon (1973). These films are tied because to tell you the truth, neither is very good (though Astro-Monster is a bit better), although the monsters in both are pretty well-designed. They are notable for a few reasons, however; the former is the second, more definitive appearance of Godzilla’s longtime nemesis King Ghidorah, while the latter features both the titular Megalon and Gigan, two of the most comically badass and uncool-wrapping-back-to-cool kaiju in the history of the franchise. But the real main attractions are the famous, insanely laughable moments in each. Astro-Monster contains the previously-mentioned Godzilla victory dance, which is just wonderful, while the latter contains the mecha character Jet Jaguar, who must be seen (and his theme song heard) to be believed.
Every Showa-era Gamera movie (aside from Super Monster, which is just a poorly-selected clip show). Gamera, the Giant Monster (1965), Gamera vs. Barugon (1966), Gamera vs. Viras (1968), Gamera vs. Guiron (1969), and Gamera vs. Zigra (1971) were all featured on Mystery Science Theater 3000, which is, in my opinion, the best way to watch them (this absurdly expensive DVD is the only official way to watch these episodes, but I’m sure you’re resourceful enough to figure out a more affordable way). Gamera vs. Jiger (1970) is a great time too, but you’ll have to supply your own riffs. They’re all ridiculous in the most amazing ways.
Gappa: The Colossal Beast (1967). You should specifically watch the Japanese version, because it was written as an intentional, self-aware spoof of the kaiju genre, but there was a played-straight American translation that was around on late-night and cable TV for decades which is pretty hilarious in its own right. Gappa is not, as you may assume, a kappa of Japanese folklore, but instead some unholy hybrid of fish, bird, and reptile with a lineage so confusing that it could only have been deliberate. I don’t know how to explain anything about this movie, and that’s just fine because it must be seen to believed.
Pulgasari (1985). This movie is plenty bizarre in concept, but rather darker in tone than most of the other flicks listed here. What really puts it in this category is its wild backstory. While the other two most notable Korean kaiju movies, Yongary and the previously-discussed The Host, hail from South Korea, Pulgasari was “commissioned” by North Korea’s Kim Jong-il to be their country’s answer to the Godzilla movies (which he was, reportedly, a huge fan of). Created in what amounted to a hostage situation for South Korean director Shin Sang-ok (more info here), it’s a smorgasbord of surprisingly excellent special effects (courtesy of Toho’s Teruyashi Nakano), subtle-as-a-brick-in-the-small-of-your-back satire of capitalism (fine by me, fuck capitalism), and absolutely guano lore (Pulgasari is a combination of a rice doll and a young girl’s blood, and that’s about all I can really explain in a paragraph). Shin remade the film two years later of his own accord (The Adventures of Galgameth), which I haven’t seen, but there’s no way it’s a patch on this accidental neo-surrealist masterpiece; the feudal setting lends it a degree of epic scale, while numerous small elements (Pulgasari grows by eating metal, which is a wonderful touch that results in any attempts to stop him only making him stronger) serve to make it quirkier and more imaginative than a lot of other kaiju fare, especially of this era. Reportedly, Shin also attempted to smuggle in a message in the form of Pulgasari itself— that being how the monster, in this case a stand-in for Kim Il-sung, betrays the people’s revolution and embraces individualistic greed over the power of the collective. Luckily for Shin, he and his wife escaped before anyone picked up on that.
Q— The Winged Serpent (1982). One of the few American kaiju movies that commits as hard as their Japanese predecessors, Q is notable in part for being one of the few filmic appearances of the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl. It’s also notable for being a Larry Cohen film, which means that it’s smart enough to lean into its camp without being smirky or precious about it. The late Larry Cohen, if you’re unaware, was also behind a number of great schlock-horror classics like The Stuff, It’s Alive, Full Moon High, and God Told Me To. Q shares with these movies a sneakily subversive sense of humor and a slant towards sociopolitical satire. More than any of that, though, it revels in its turn-on-ten-dimes-a-minute story structure and relentlessly idiosyncratic characters (the protagonist, Jimmy Quinn, is a paranoiac and failed diamond thief with aspirations to become a jazz pianist) to create one of the hands-down most fun flicks on this list. It literally opens with Quetzalcoatl scooping a window-washer’s head up for lunch in broad daylight, and shit just gets crazier from there.
Tremors (1990). We’re already getting into fairly iffy territory of what “kaiju” means with Q— The Winged Serpent, and I wholly admit to being subjective and weird about what counts, but the original Tremors has some of the greatest kaiju (or, fuck it, kaiju-adjacent) practical effects I’ve ever seen in my life. The fact that it also is one of the tightest, most perfectly structured scripts ever filmed is just a bonus. Perfect horror-comedy film.
HONORABLE MENTION: I wouldn’t suggest doing a deep dive on most of the Showa-era Godzilla movies until you’re suitably intoxicated by the character (or you’re just straight-up intoxicated), but when you’re ready for the intermediate level of kaiju movies, it’s hard to do much better than Godzilla vs. Hedorah (1971). It’s a watch that’s about 50% boring, 20% really good monster effects (especially on the part of Hedorah, a multi-formed kaiju borne of pollution and toxic sludge), and 30% concentrated LSD (while you’re watching, keep this phrase in mind: “fish head dancing scene”).
I JUST WANT TO WATCH MONSTERS BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF EACH OTHER, MAN. Me too, dude.
Destroy All Monsters (1968). The definitive monster mash flick, and prior to a later entry on this list (you’ll know it when you see it), the biggest collection of kaiju all together on screen ever.
Godzilla vs. MechaGodzilla (1974). This is the one with that nutso scene where Fake!Godzilla straight up de-jaws Anguirus. It also features the criminally underrated King Caesar, who comes with his own theme song that rivals Jet Jaguar’s.
King Kong vs. Godzilla (1962). This is honestly one of my least favorite of the Showa era, but it does contain some truly weird fight scenes (including one where King Kong— who, in the original script for this movie, was actually supposed to be Frankenstein, which is important for this next part to make sense— is revived and given special powers by a lightning strike).
Godzilla, Mothra, and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack! (2001). This Millennium-era film is the previously-mentioned Shusuke Kaneko’s only contribution to the Godzilla franchise, which is a goddamn shame, because it takes all the stratospheric improvements he provided for Gamera, applies it to the King of the Monsters, and amplifies it about a millionfold. The 2019 King of the Monsters did its very best to match the level of chaos in this movie, but Kaneko’s effortlessly manic direction simply cannot be bested.
Godzilla Final Wars (2004). This was the final Godzilla movie made for a full decade, before his Bryan Cranston-assisted American revival, and about 5 minutes into this one, you will understand why. If Giant Monsters All Out Attack feels like a caffeine overdose, Final Wars feels like someone pumping gallon after gallon of original-formula Four Loko directly into your veins. It’s really two movies, and neither of them could be considered anything close to a respite from the other. The human side of the movie is an insane sci-fi kung-fu flick that feels like it was edited by MTV on PCP (and also includes Don Frye playing a character who can only be described as a deadpan satire of the entire idea of America). The monster side of the movie consists of almost-discrete vignettes of Godzilla beating the shit out of nearly every monster he has ever been associated with. The peak of this movie (and arguably the entire goddamn franchise) is the Sydney-based battle between Godzilla and a ludicrously-poorly-animated version of the American Zilla. It lasts approximately 30 seconds, is scored by Sum 41’s “We’re All to Blame,” and makes me feel like I have been chugging dopamine.
CRIMINALLY OVERLOOKED. These are movies that people rarely bring up when talking about kaiju movies, primarily because they did not grow up renting ridiculous-looking VHS tapes while their parents shook their head.
Frankenstein Conquers the World (1965) and War of the Gargantuas (1966). The latter does not actually feature the wild-as-hell Toho interpretation of Frankenstein (which involves, surprise, nuclear energy), but is a direct sequel (although the American translation goes out of its way to obscure this fact). They are both wonderful, and in the case of the former, borderline-incomprehensible (in a good way).
Varan the Unbelievable (1958). This movie is, as far as I’m aware, pretty obscure even among people who are as kaiju-poisoned as I am. Varan is a flying lizard. The plot of this movie involves butterflies, but that’s not important. What is important is that he is defeated because he eats bombs, which is, god willing, the way I’ll go out too.
Atragon (1963). You may assume that the monster in this movie is named Atragon, but you would be wrong— that is actually the name of a war-ready submarine that is the world’s only defense against the protector of an underground civilization. Said protector is Manda, a fucking gnarly sea snake that is sadly defeated by being frozen. This film is notable for being directed by legendary Godzilla director Ishiro Honda, who lends it a bit more stylization than it arguably deserves, although again, Manda’s design fucking rules (reminding me of the sea dragons of Chinese folklore).
The Daimajin trilogy (all of which were shot simultaneously and released in 1966). This is arguably not a kaiju movie, since the titular monster is A. technically a spirit or demon god and B. very humanoid, but they’re all pretty fun watches. If you have a lot of nostalgia for Power Rangers, these come off as a darker and more explicitly adult (yet, to be quite honest, no less silly) version of the Mighty Morphin’ Megazord.
The Rebirth of Mothra trilogy (1996-1998). The original 1961 Mothra is, along with the original Rodan (1956), one of the most solid efforts from the early post-Godzilla era, and her role as the most benevolent kaiju in the Godzilla universe is an important one (as is the fact that she provided the name for the excellent post-screamo band Infant Island), but she has a tendency to suffer from somewhat weaker designs in comparisons to the monsters she was often up against (could you imagine a more Battra-influenced Mothra design? How cool would that be?). This fluffy trilogy doesn’t do much to fix this, but they’re all fun watches and if you have kids that you want to introduce to your newfound kaiju obsession, you could do a lot worse than this one in conjunction with 2006’s Gamera the Brave.
One last WORD TO THE WISE: A casual Google search, and unfortunately even the official /r/horror “recommended kaiju” list, will throw out a bunch of movies that are very simply not kaiju movies, even if a lot of them are good. For example, there’s the drolly deadpan mockumentary Trollhunter, or you have 1954’s Them!, which kickstarted an entire subgenre of “big bug” 50s and 60s B-movies. In my opinion, “creature feature” and “kaiju” are not interchangeable terms. Because then, is Anaconda a kaiju movie? How about Jaws? Fuck off. Frank Darabont’s The Blob and The Mist are also on here— two of my personal favorite horror movies— but I really don’t think they count. So keep in mind that some people’s definition of a kaiju is wack as fuck.
And there you have it. If you come to this newsletter for music, I offer another, far-too-late, half-hearted apology, but this was unquestionably some of the most fun I’ve had writing this newsletter, and if nothing else, I hope I’ve given you some movies to check out, whether your interest is genuine or (sigh) ironic. And hey, if you did end up enjoying it, I’ve been wanting to branch out to some more non-music-related content anyway.
And, again, if you’re new around here, sniff around some of my other writing and see if any of it is up your alley! You might end up liking it enough to subscribe (and remember, VHS Poisoning will be a recurring and generally horror-themed feature!), or even contribute to my Patreon. Of course, even if all my content isn’t to your liking, but you really appreciated this essay, feel free to tip me on my Venmo at xyoudontneedmapsx, or even follow me over on Twitter. In the meantime, thank you for reading, genuinely, from the bottom of my heart. Hopefully I’ll see some of you next time.
-xoxo, Ellie
Thank you so much for reading. Please don’t forget to hit that subscribe button on my Patreon, or hit up my Venmo at xyoudontneedmapsx if you’d prefer to show your support with a one-time donation! If you’re interested in a band bio or some freelance writing, email me at xyoudontneedmapsx@gmail.com to hash out the details. If you’d just like to read dumb jokes, follow me on Twitter on my personal account and on my podcast’s account (you can listen to that podcast here). Or (and I realize this is a risky proposition) just friend me on Facebook if you wanna see all my bullshit “life” stuff. I’ll see you all next time!
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