“The Curse of Fenric” (S26E8-11)

It is 1989, and Doctor Who is on its last legs. You may have noticed that I skipped over all of the serials featuring Colin Baker in the lead role—this is not simply because of the poor reputation most of the stories have even among fans of the series, but because none of them offer a particularly compelling monster-centric story to write about. Things started looking up at least a little bit in 1987, when the show went through a small-scale creative overhaul, with a new batch of writers behind the scenes and a new lead in Sylvester McCoy, but none of the active attempts to make the series more ambitious and relevant saved it from going on an indefinite hiatus just as the eighties ended, leaving it at a still-impressive twenty-six consecutive years on television.

The three years with McCoy and lead writer Andrew Cartmel carry a very distinctive atmosphere, one that attempts to mine the best parts of the series’ past, especially its sense of imagination and its capacity for moments of child-friendly horror, and infuse a puckish kind of whimsy and more focus on the characterization of the Doctor and his companion. “The Curse of Fenric”, the classic series’ penultimate story, carries with it the DNA of previous serials we’ve talked about: there’s a the moody atmosphere and marching army of monsters of “The Web of Fear”, a somewhat Quatermass-esque combination of mythology and Sci-Fi similar to “The Awakening”, and even the winking social commentary of “Carnival of Monsters.” Another similarity to “Web of Fear” is its attempt to provide a new interpretation of a well-established monster—but this goes much further in taking its inspirations and playing around with the iconography.

Leviathan (1989)

Released at the tail end of the eighties, Leviathan followed a string of major projects for Stan Winston—he had worked with Rob Bottin on The Thing, and after opening Stan Winston Studio, crafted the effects for The Terminator, Aliens, and Predator (as well as Invaders From Mars and Pumpkinhead), establishing that team to be the top studio for creature effects in Hollywood. Winston himself was well past his Gargoyles mask-masking days, acting as Producer of Creature Effects alongside his crew, including Alec Gillis and Tom Woodruff Jr. (the latter once again tasked with wearing the monster suit), who would move on to Tremors immediately after this. With those in mind, one can’t help but look at Leviathan as a victory lap, the kind of movie that these people could make in their sleep. It doesn’t change the game like Stan Winston Studios prior projects, but it allows them another chance to show why they got those earlier movies in the first place.

GUNHED (1989)

There seemed to be a certain level of ambition behind GUNHED—it was created through a collaboration between some of Japan’s biggest franchise hitmakers, including Toho, Bandai, Gundam creators Sunrise, Kadokawa, and special effects house Imagica, who formed the “Gunhed Production Committee” (there was also a manga produced by noted author Kia Asamiya, but I don’t know if that preceded the movie or not.) It’s also a movie that makes no bones about existing in the shadow of James Cameron, shamelessly pilfering imagery and ideas from both Terminator and Aliens in order to construct an action epic full of apocalyptic tech graveyards and danger-filled corridors. What you get is, essentially, a story set in a variation of Terminator‘s future war zone, pitting man against ruthless machines, except with classic Toho kaiju effects from the early days of the Heisei era—effects Koichi Kawakita, who had been at the company since the early sixties, directed the effects for all but one of the Heisei Godzilla movies and the first two Mothra movies, and even worked on Zone Fighter—and the addition of a friendly battle mech, a very late eighties Japanese take on a very eighties American concept.

Creature Classic Companion: Society (1989)

So ends a month spent with Arrow, and let’s cap it off with the type of movie that makes you appreciate the existence of these specialty services, because you know most mainstream streamers wouldn’t touch this with a ten-foot pole.

There’s a particular strain of eighties movies, genre movies especially, which are almost entirely about how the eighties were terrible, and specifically railed against the wealthy and the corporate culture that seemed to increasingly dominate everything during the Reagan era. Robocop is probably the highest profile example, but you also have John Carpenter’s The Live and Larry Cohen’s The Stuff all espousing the same kind of anti-authority stance—and in using genres and styles that were considered disreputable to mainstream consensus feels like an appropriate punkish way to do so. Horror with B-movie sensibilities, ultra-violent action, and an emphasis on gross special effects have a visceral anger to them, and thumbing your nose at the idea of good taste probably felt like the most subversive way to get your point across. Society is another example of this from the tail end of the decade, and it acquired a strong cult following among horror aficionados by taking things as far as they could go.

This is the first film directed by Brian Yuzna, who was mostly known for producing the movies of the late Stuart Gordon, including such favourites as Re-Animator and From Beyond (which he co-wrote.) Apparently after Gordon and him co-wrote the initial version of Honey, I Shrunk the Kids(!), Yuzna wanted more independence, and was able to secure financing for whatever he wanted as long as he also produced a sequel to Re-Animator. Taking that sweet deal for all it was worth, he picked up an intriguing script about a Beverly Hills teen becoming increasingly suspicious of his rich family’s secret life, but felt that the cult/slasher angle of its ending was not his speed, and so altered the twist into something else entirely—a monster movie, but more than that. What was produced was one of the most audacious and disgusting of all eighties horror movies, one that left an indelible impression on everyone who stumbled upon it during the heyday of practical horror effects.

Daikaiju 2014: Resurgence (3 of 3)

Godzilla Vs. Biollante (1989)

The first Vs. movie of the Heisei era is kind of odd and patchy – the actual confrontations between the titular monsters are few, far between, and fairly short, with the rest of the action devoted to more military hardware nonsense. Though brief, the fights manage to be enjoyably grotesque (as is the general relationship between the two monsters – Godzilla confronted by his mutant female clone), mainly because of how well-realized Biollante’s two forms are – it is a visually and conceptually unique creation (although its characteristics are weirdly muddled at times – especially by the ending.) It’s kind of a shame that the crew shied away from making more new monsters afterwards.

It is neat how the film, right from the hop, establishes a reality where the aftermath of Godzilla’s appearance has consequences – in this case, the harvesting of his cells and the political and corporate espionage games that make up the human part of the plot (except for the introduction of the psychics, which is important for the entire Heisei series, but man is it also really weird.) The presence of a giant radioactive monster leads to a whole load of other things, not the least of which is another monster engineered from his DNA – it gives the whole streak of movies a through-line, even if its not always capitalized on fully. The monsters’ existence having that kind of weight is definitely an interesting way to get the franchise rolling again.

Godzilla Vs. Mothra (1992)

This is an ostensible remake of both Mothra and Mothra Vs. Godzilla happening at the same time, and Godzilla often feels like a third wheel, simply sauntering onscreen to sock whatever giant bug is closest at the time. But while his bearing on the plot is more or less minimal, it sort of makes sense to have him there – with Mothra and Battra as the spirits of the natural world (who, naturally, have clashing ideologies regarding the human race), just about the only thing that could bring them together in the end is a monstrous reminder of how humanity alters nature. Godzilla, then, becomes the mechanic in which the two counterparts reconcile – it’s not smooth, but it is enjoyable. The reconciliation is also paralleled in the human scenes as well, with the separated couple coming back together for the benefit of others – just like the giant flying insects!

While the environmental subplot is mostly in the background, the movie does wring out at least one good scene with it, where the amoral CEO says something along the lines of “I don’t care if they destroy the city, I’ll just rebuild it!” This is the whole “technological solution for a technological problem” (that is later repeated in Destoroyah) in a nutshell – having the money and the means allows some to ignore the problems they cause. It’s brief, but its a reminder of what is being confronted every time one of these movies are made.

Godzilla Against Mechagodzilla (2002)

It’s a real shame that the most interesting idea in the movie – that the “DNA computer” made from Godzilla 54’s remains gives Mechagodzilla the creature’s memories – is dropped in the second half, because this otherwise solid action-heavy entry could have been even more worthwhile if they explored it more. I mean, after the really cool scene where the robot goes berserk until it runs out of power, they only bring it up again by having Mecha-G’s pilot make vague statements about “feeling” what it wants (and trying to parallel herself with it) – that allows them to give lip service to their concept even though they had no idea how to really follow it up. It’s an interesting take on Godzilla-counterpart theme so common in these later movies, but again, it only gets a small percentage of the movie here.

Godzilla continues his run as purely antagonistic in the Heisei through Millenium continuum in this as well, although in some ways he seems more like a walking natural disaster here – and so the focus on political fallout/governmental/bureaucratic response to a new Godzilla attack becomes a fairly interesting theme running in the background (the practicality of building a giant robot is at least brought up, which is always fun). At the same time, the pilot’s arc – overcoming her trauma, guilt, and fatalism – pushes Godzilla more in the villain direction, as something that must be defeated rather than just overcome. The plurality of perspectives makes the scenes without monster fighting a little more engaging, although its never as interesting as those aforementioned concepts they only toyed with.

Godzilla: Tokyo SOS (2003)

Almost more of a supplement to Against Mechagodzilla, Tokyo SOS allows them to go back to the Mechagodzilla-as-Godzilla’s-ghost and do a lot more with it. It takes the previous movie’s implied history of monster fighting and runs with it, creating a background legacy of kaiju attacks on Japan that gives the more threadbare human scenes an interesting twist. Once again, Mothra has to play both sides of the fence here, promising to protect Japan from Godzilla as long as they return Godzilla ’54’s remains to the sea – but why should they trust another monster with its own agenda? The conflict between the natural order and human designs (after all, the Godzillas were the results of humanity’s own actions, and the presence of one Godzilla seems to attract the presence of another, it seems – which is an idea picked up from Biollante) goes in its own very weird direction – it’s not enough that humans create these radioactive monstrosities, they can’t even let the dead rest in peace, which might be an even greater affront.

I thought it was interesting that primary human perspective shifted from the military-trained pilots to the actual mechanics – after all, who else would have the same kind of relationship with Mechagodzilla than the ones who actually build and maintain it? It makes the film’s universe feel a lot bigger – there are many people involved with the building of a robot monster to fight another monster, and we get to see even more of them here. In the finale, where Mechagodzilla takes matters into its own hands and piledrives Godzilla to the bottom of the sea, the connection between the mechanic and his beloved machine gives it an emotional hook (Godzilla-ghost-robot even manages to say goodbye!) It even raises some questions about the the robot’s actions – was it merely trying to defeat its enemy or return to its resting place, or was it atoning for its past destructive behaviour now that it has gotten to know its human victims better?