Godzilla Goes Retro In New Film

After five decades and 27 movies, you'd think Godzilla would have learned a thing or two about computer graphics and synthesizers. But in a new film next month, Japan's favorite mutant will storm through Tokyo the old-fashioned way: in a huge rubber suit, stomping on handmade buildings and howling to the tune of a leather glove on a double bass string.

"I had heard stories about the original film," said actor Tsutomu Kitagawa, 47, who suited up for "Godzilla: Final Wars." "But I didn't know there was this much labor involved."

Godzilla turned 50 years old on Nov. 3, still intent on testing the limits of hands-on moviemaking — and honoring tradition — with the monster's 28th film.

Director Ryuhei Kitamura is borrowing techniques invented for Ishiro Honda's 1954 black-and-white original. In an industry that has embraced digital cameras and computer-generated special effects, that can seem downright prehistoric.

Japanese studio Toho Co. doesn't think so.

"Godzilla movies preserve a distinct Japanese style of filmmaking. They are made by many people working together," said Shogo Tomiyama, Toho Pictures president and the executive producer of 12 Godzilla movies. "The films are our identity."

That identity is known around the world. On Nov. 29, Godzilla will be honored with its own star in front of Grauman's Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles.

Still, Godzilla's king-sized legacy as a symbol of nuclear apocalypse, a film icon and a giant of Japanese pop culture doesn't have the pull it once had: Godzilla's dimmed stardom has led Toho to make this year's film the last one for a while.

The idea for Godzilla emerged from an actual historical event.

In 1954, a U.S. hydrogen bomb test explosion on Bikini atoll in the central Pacific exposed the crew of a Japanese fishing vessel to dangerous levels of radiation. Japanese — who had suffered through the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki less than a decade before — were outraged.

But Toho producer Tomoyuki Tanaka saw the disaster as something else: the perfect backdrop for a movie. He swiftly secured a $277,000 budget for a horror film about an H-bomb test monster — Godzilla.

Pronounced "Gojira," a combination of the Japanese words for gorilla and whale, Godzilla was meant to be Tanaka's homage to the 1933 U.S. blockbuster "King Kong," said Toho's Tomiyama.

But Honda, the director, wasn't interested in remaking King Kong.

"What was the best way to make people understand the horrors of radioactivity?" Honda recalled in his 1994 book, "My Life In Film With Godzilla." "This wasn't just about the terror of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. This would be worse."

Toho veiled the project in secrecy, code naming it "G" for giant. But secrecy compounded the difficulties of working with a 165-foot-tall imaginary dinosaur.

Many of the actors didn't know how big Godzilla would be, so they couldn't gauge how high to look up during the filming to simulate horror at the monster. They were told to stare at buildings in the city and at mountains and clouds in the countryside.

That wasn't helpful for some.

"People ended up looking in different directions because some watched the clouds float across the sky," said Akira Takarada, 70, who played main character Hideto Ogata and has a role in this year's film.

Meanwhile, Godzilla actor Haruo Nakajima tried to mimic the elephants he had studied at the zoo. But he strained under the weight of a 220-pound suit and in Japan's summer humidity.

"It got up to 60 degrees Celsius (140 degrees Fahrenheit) inside the costume," said Nakajima, now 75.

When the first Godzilla movie was released, Japanese packed movie theaters to see it.

A poignant symbol of the nuclear arms race, the monster touched on their worries about the environmental and health risks of the H-bomb and earned their sympathy as a radiation victim. An edited version starring Raymond Burr made it to the United States two years later.

"This was the fifties, and there was still much speculation as to what long-term effects nuclear testing would have on the environment," said Steve Ryfle, author of "Japan's Favorite Mon-star."

Over the years, Toho changed storylines to reflect the times, tapping into fears about the Cold War, nuclear energy and biotechnology.

Godzilla evolved, too. It went from being a plodding menace to a pro wrestler-like pouncer to a mixture of both.

But the moral stayed the same: Godzilla was a reminder that humans possessed the technology to destroy themselves.

"Godzilla vs. Hedora," for example, featured a pollution-fed blob. "Godzilla vs. Biollante" was about a genetically engineered cross between Godzilla, a girl and a rose plant.

"It's the theme of Godzilla — the monster that humans create takes its revenge," said Tomiyama of Toho.

Many Japanese raised on Godzilla sequels grew fond of the beast. But critics say overexposure alienated fans and hurt box-office sales.

Twice, Toho shelved the series — in 1968 and 1975 — reviving it years later. But much of the star's popularity had faded.

Despite slick computer special effects and a $125 million budget, U.S. studio TriStar's 1998 Godzilla was a colossal flop.

This year's film will be the last before Toho puts the series on hold. But the studio isn't ready to kill off its biggest star for good.

"I don't think this is the end," Tomiyama said. "Godzilla will exist as long as humans do."