MIFF 2024 Feature - Godzilla 70th Anniversary Marathon
Images courtesy of Common State.
On the night of Saturday the 17th of August, my friends and I embarked on a journey of self-discovery–in the form of an overnight marathon of a selection of seven of the Godzilla films. Hosted at the Astor Theatre by the Melbourne International Film Festival, attending this marathon was a no-brainer for me. I’ve been a fan of the series for quite a while, and so the prospect of an overnight marathon wasn’t particularly daunting to me–having seen all of the films before I was welcome to nap and take breaks if needed without worrying about feeling lost. Prior to the marathon, we had prepared ourselves with loads of caffeine and food, as had most other attendees. This was bolstered by the handing-out of cans of Asahi, a MIFF sponsor, which eventually littered the aisles of the theatre. The screening began at 8:30pm, preceded by a red carpet scene where someone in an inflatable Godzilla costume took photos with attendees. Introductions before each film gave audiences the cultural and industrial context somewhat necessary to enjoy or rather comprehend each film.
The first film, Godzilla (Ishirō Honda, 1954), is a triumph of movie-making that needs no introduction. Having seen this several times I was more focused on the graphical quality, this particular showing of the film being a premiere of the new 4K restoration. I was immediately clued in on the behaviour of the crowd though, who laughed at the film several times, which surprised me as I’ve never considered Godzilla (1954) to be particularly funny–but unlike other bad crowds, this didn’t bother me too much as it felt within the spirit of an overnight marathon.
The next film was Destroy All Monsters (Ishirō Honda, 1968)--having skipped over several films in the series I have no doubt the relatively ‘campy’ tone and style of this film perplexed many who were not familiar with it, holding relatively little of the sombre grief that permeates every facet of the 1954 film. Still though, the crowd was nevertheless raucous, cheering and hollering throughout the film, particularly in the film’s climactic fight scene in which the three-headed dragon King Ghidorah is comically beaten down by several of the film’s kaiju. It was during this film, which ended at midnight, that a headache brought on by tiredness had begun to set in. Luckily my friend had a packet of panadol which cured it relatively quickly, but this tiredness was an omen for the fatigue that would soon begin to permeate the remainder of the marathon.
The next film was Terror of Mechagodzilla (Jun Fukuda, 1974), rounding off the marathon’s offering of Showa-era films. I was generally pretty wide awake for this one, no doubt acclimating to the many late nights MIFF has presented me with so far, and enjoyed this thoroughly–I remember it being a favourite of mine when I last saw it. The audience felt pretty tuned into the sensibilities of this series by now, passing the point of ostensible corniness where seeing what are clearly men in suits doing their thing is actually quite technically impressive and awe-inspiring.
By the time The Return of Godzilla (Koji Hashimoto, 1984) rolled around the crowd had substantially quietened down. I felt this change in theatrical atmosphere was doubly layered–this film is an ostensible return to the series’ overtly bleak political commentary, and is substantially more contemplative compared to the previous entries in the marathon, and as such presents not much of the series’ prior animated physicality. This does not mean it was a 100% serious affair, as the crowd got a good laugh from the American and Soviet characters, who are played by white actors with very little subtlety or nuance in their delivery. The main reason for the quieter crowd, however, was that the film started at around 2am. I slept for a good portion of it, about forty minutes in I dozed off and awoke with five minutes left. This was my signal to finally crack open the can of Red Bull I had been saving for an emergency.
The caffeine dosage marginally improved my viewing experience for the next film, Godzilla vs. Mothra (Takao Okawara, 1992). I stayed awake in a meditative dream state for the entire film, which gelled well with its ethereal tone–vast displays of glitter, heavenly singing and gorgeous imagery emanate from the film’s titular kaiju Mothra and her interactions with the film’s very fabric. A single audience cheer when Mothra metamorphoses and emerges from her cocoon was quite beautiful to hear.
Sadly this pleasant experience did not carry over to the next film, Godzilla, Mothra and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack (Shusuke Kaneko, 2001). In one of my many heated disagreements with the Godzilla fandom–which like most fandoms, I avoid out of anger these days–I have never been able to gel at all with the high opinion everyone has of this film. I find it somewhat conceptually interesting but the film never follows through on its promise of earnest criticism of wartime Japanese militarism and nationalism and how they permeate its contemporary media landscape, instead opting for an incredibly generic affair that isn’t especially memorable. I gave the film an earnest second chance, staying awake for 45 minutes to see if my negatives were misplaced, only to find that I enjoyed it even less than before! I comfortably fell asleep for the second half, even leaving the theatre all-together during the last 20 minutes to look at the sun, which had begun rising outside while the film was playing. As I observed the tranquil sun over Chapel Street at 7am, I was reminded over the ever-lasting hope the next film may bring. I reckoned with the trials and tribulations of the journey I had undertaken, and resigned myself to seeing it through.
Shin Godzilla (Hideaki Anno and Shinji Higuchi, 2016) brought with it an aura of comradery and acceptance that framed our viewing experience thus far. Just as the characters of Shin Godzilla undergo sleepless nights, smelly clothing and messy coordination of resources to defeat the ever-evolving threat of Godzilla, we were faced with a reflection of everything we had undergone ourselves. Whereas most Godzilla films end with a roar of celebration from its characters, a rousing expression of human comradery and perseverance, the characters of Shin Godzilla breathe a tired sigh of relief, which we felt deep in our bones. After Shin Godzilla, my favourite film in the series, wrapped up, I took a moment to observe the fallout. Most of the attendees had dropped off by this point. At the start of the marathon the cinema was close to capacity, or at least felt that way, and only 40-50 or so remained by the end of the marathon at almost 10am. You see the ugly, unglamorous side of theatre-going at this point, rubbish littered the aisles, popcorn and Asahi cans left on seats and the floor, and everyone was so obviously at their lowest on an emotional and energetic basis, but in an idiosyncratic way, this made it all the more moving when we departed. I solemnly and tiredly said goodbye to my friends, who departed for places unknown, and I went home to see if my body would even allow me to try and recover through sleep after what I had put it through. What did I learn from watching seven Godzilla films in a row from 8:30pm to 10am at the Astor Theatre? In a potently beautiful way, it fixed my sleep schedule.
Occurring at the midpoint of the festival, it was both a reprieve from the onslaught of unfamiliar and daring new films I had viewed thus far, as well as a sheer test of my perseverance - or misplaced stubbornness. Much like Godzilla’s messy and complicated birth as a concept and popular culture figure, I too feel as though I’ve come out of this experience a strange creature. It’s something I won’t soon forget.
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The Godzilla 70th Anniversary Marathon screened as part of the Melbourne International Film Festival, running in cinemas and online August 8th-25th.
For more info, click here.