In 1983, the British public was introduced to Godzilla vs. The Smog Monster through a short-lived but influential Channel 4 series called “The Worst of Hollywood”. Notwithstanding that Hollywood had nothing to do with it, the 11th film in Toho’s Godzilla franchise was a lazy choice for the TV show, which was presented in a sneering tone by American critic Micheal Medved and which otherwise introduced viewers to better known titles like Plan 9 From Outer Space and Robot Monster. Given the haphazard standards of the enterprise and his myopia as a critic, Medved could have taken a dump on any Japanese monster movie, but the eccentricities of Godzilla Vs. The Smog Monster were hard to ignore and its fate as a “turkey” was subsequently sealed.

Decades later, things have changed. When the unabridged version of Yoshimitsu Banno’s delightful film screens under its original title Godzilla vs Hedorah—part of a glorious retrospective of Godzilla films coming to the Cinematheque this month—it will be met by an audience that has since oriented itself to the wild pleasures of period Japanese genre favourites like Hausu. Released in 1971, Banno’s film distinguishes itself immediately with a psych-pop theme song and an opening sequence in which second-grader Ken Yano is seen playing with his Godzilla action figures, instantly repositioning the giant lizard’s cultural status after almost 20 years of global box-office action. First-time director Banno wanted to rejuvenate the series, much to the chagrin of producer Tomoyuki Tanaka it would turn out, but Godzilla vs Hedorah has emerged as a fan favourite because it so furiously colours outside the lines. There are animated sequences, picturesque title cards, Laugh In-style split-screen effects, a goofy acid rock rave atop Mount Fuji, and a young cast bouncing around inside its world of lysergic colour.

Significantly, the nuclear threat symbolized by Godzilla is overwhelmed here by something apparently worse. When we get to the film’s inevitable battle, the atomic lizard suffers a critical wounding from an organism made entirely of pollution. Hedorah emerges from a blighted ocean and feeds on the smoke that belches from factory towers. Accordingly, it’s designed to look like ambulatory sludge, or maybe a frilly Cthulu, with glowing red eyes and a kind of cloaca that spits caustic mud. In fact, this weirdly fatalistic film assumes the worst end for humanity with a body count largely due to the acid that rains from Hedorah as it flies overhead—an idea that Hollywood’s greatest rubber monster would borrow nine years later for Alien. Its biology makes Hedorah virtually impossible to defeat, no more than industrial waste can ever be eliminated. It all resolves, of course, although not before the film’s star takes a beating as relentless as the film’s message. But Godzilla Vs. Hedorah is schizoid fun from start to finish—at least one of these two creatures will be relieved of its silvery gonads before audiences leave the theatre!—and it’s crazy that Medved or any critic would scoff at such intoxicated filmmaking.

Stir, October 2023