If you recall, around this time last year I reviewed the 1966 Daiei classic Daimajin, and briefly mentioned that it was the first film in a “quickly-produced” trilogy—and when I said “quickly-produced”, I meant “all released in the same year.” Return of Daimajin premiered just four months after the original, with a different director (Kenji Misumi, who also hailed from the world of Japanese period drama/action movies, and was an integral early director in important series like Zatoichi and Lone Wolf and Cub) and the same premise. I mean, in a lot of ways, this is the exact same movie as the original Daimajin, with many roughly equivalent characters and plot beats—these two more or less feel like two variations on the same themes, so maybe watching them a year apart was a good way to keep them from feeling a bit too samey (I imagine the third movie is also similar, so don’t expect me to cover that one any time soon.) This is not to say that Return is EXACTLY the same as its predecessor and thus pointless, as there are some fairly subtle differences, and at least it also carries over much of the original’s high points as well.
One of those differences is the setting, a rather interesting set-up where two kingdoms sit across each from other on the opposite shores of a lake, with an island in the middle of the water housing the god that both kingdoms worship. That means this movie not only has some beautiful scenery, but definitely has more boat-based action than the original. But while the two peaceful kingdoms bond over their shared love of Majin’s statue, a third kingdom from across the mountains ruled by the cruel lord Danjo has decided to invade both, seemingly because the two have access to more natural resources than he does (which is why numerous serfs have been escaping to them.) Danjo and his cronies argue that his kingdom’s poverty is a result of their location, but it’s pretty clear that they’re a bunch of huge jerks, which I think might be a contributing factor. They manage to stage a sneak attack on the kingdom of Chigusa by hiding their soldiers in bundles of rice, which forces the good Lord Juro to go into hiding. Thankfully for the people of the other kingdom, Nagoshi, the face of the Majin statue turns red during their prayers to it, indicating ahead of time that something is amiss—not so thankfully, Danjo’s minions murder their lord and take his son prisoner when they claim not to know the whereabouts of Juro. Between the more direct actions Juro takes to reclaim his kingdom and the attempts by his betrothed Sayuri to call on the help of their god, it’s a gradual build-up to inevitable moment when Majin shows up and gives Danjo and his crew the heave-ho.
The structure of Return follows the original very closely—both include the opening raid, the scene where the virtuous deposed lord makes a daring attempt to overthrow the evil one, the evil lord’s utter disrespect for the local’s religious beliefs and his later attempt to destroy the statue despite all the warnings he receives, and the public execution of all our heroes (where Sayuri is to be tied to a cross and burned, which is pretty next level sadistic) that is interrupted by Majin’s arrival—with mostly the details changing. For example, in this one, the villains actually succeed in destroying the statue by using explosives, which only means that Majin is an ethereal presence for most of the movie rather than a physical one, and we can see the true faith his worshippers have because they still pray to the gaping hole in the wall. In fact, I’d say the biggest difference in this one is the role Majin plays and how he is perceived: in the original, Majin is a more mysterious—and feared—entity, one whose statue is hidden away in the mountains and whose presence was only really called upon as a last resort; in this one, however, he is the patron deity of both Chigusa and Nagoshi, a beloved figure that everyone is pleading to for help throughout the story. While he fulfills the same wrathful role, he comes less as a vengeful force of nature that no one controls to one who is definitely looking out for his people—he’s also way more interventionist early on, saving Juro from an enemy boat by sinking it with a water spout (and later sending a warning to Danjo by floating the destroyed boat back to him, complete with a single soldier impaled on a chunk of the exploded statue.) In a way he’s a kinder, friendlier Majin with a much more straightforward morality.
While these movies tend to put warring aristocrats at the centre of the narrative, they do spend some time acknowledging what the common folk are up to—a group of people trying to escape Danjo’s tyranny are the first ones we see, and we get a few more scenes where crowds of them watch what’s going on and vent their worries. There’s far fewer scenes of the corrupt lord subjecting them to sadistic cruelty in this one (and maybe fewer scenes of abject cruelty in general), so you never really get the same idea of just how they’re suffering under the new management—instead, the focus seems to be on how the people oppose bad leaders and support good ones, as Juro’s people are always right behind him no matter what he does. That might be that more straightforward morality coming into play again, with a good king/bad king dynamic leading not only to supernatural justice, but a more down-to-earth reaction as well. It is slightly less interesting than the original’s more visceral and ambiguous take, and the simplifying of the commoner perspective also means there we have no character as compelling as the priestess from the original Daimajin, but at least it’s different.
The main appeal of both movies is still the final twenty minutes, when Majin changes to his angry face and goes to town on the bad guys, and that remains as satisfying and well-shot in Return as it was in the original, with the added bonus of a wonderfully blue scene where Majin parts the waters of the lake to take his jaunt to Danjo’s fortress. There is, of course, the joy of watching a giant creature shrug off every attack thrown at it—whether it be the older bows and rifles in this, or the military hardware of more “modern” monster movies—and plow through buildings, made all the better because we know that the people firing on Majin deserve to have giant chunks of scenery thrown on top of them. As much as I enjoy giant monster destruction in general, there’s something about the way the scenes are paced in these movies that makes them even more gripping. This time, too, there seems to be more futile attempts to stop the angry god, using both grappling hooks and another pile of gunpowder, but of course nothing works. The poetic justice aspect of these movies is one of their great pleasures, with the hour-long build-up and repeated warnings “You’re gonna get it, just you wait” ratcheting up the anticipation, and the villains’ final realization of just how inescapable their fate is becomes our great catharsis. The evil lord’s punishment in the first film is a hard thing to top, but the comeuppance Danjo gets in this comes pretty close, I’d say, and is even pretty creative (and involves giving Majin a power he’s never shown before…but come on, he’s a god, he can do whatever he wants.) I said this in my post about the first one, but it bears repeating: seeing corrupt authority figures get stomped by monsters will never get old.
For various little reasons, I don’t think Return is as effective as Daimajin, even though they are largely similar—the first one has a grander, more ominous vibe (even though Akira Ifukube is back on the score, I kinda feel his music in this one hews closer to his Godzilla style than the previous movie), and while it is nice to see Majin’s relationship with humanity interpreted in a different way, it ultimately feels a little more black-and-white moral-wise. Still, what sets these movies apart from other kaiju fare is how well they relocate the genre into a historical and mythological context, and take their settings and stories seriously. It is refreshing to see filmmakers who have enough faith that they audience will sit through a mostly legit period drama before getting to see a monster show up—and having all that drama only makes that monster’s arrival all the more exciting.
REVIEW ALL MONSTERS 