(1966, Arrow Video), containing:
DAIMAJIN, 84m
THE RETURN OF DAIMAJIN, 79m
THE WRATH OF DAIMAJIN, 87m
Reviewed by Tim Lucas
We may feel that the movies being made today have a patent on redundancy but, believe it or not, back in 1966, just one year after belatedly entering the kaiju ("monster") competition with DAIKAIJU GAMERA (US: GAMERA, THE GIANT MONSTER, 1965), Daiei Film of Japan actually introduced a new kaiju character and promptly starred him in three full color adventures, all of which featured pretty much the same story. It was in April of that year that they released DAIMAJIN, directed by Kimiyoshi Yasuda. In August followed DAIMAJIN IKARU, then in December came DAIMAJIN GYAKUSHU - and then there were no more.
The story they all share goes something like this: In 16th century Japan, an evil warlord conquered a village and enslaved its people. The village was nestled in a valley below a large, impassible mountain held sacred by the locals as a shrine to the god Majin, whose giant likeness was erected there at some point in the past. Word had been passed down through the centuries that the mountain is sacred ground, never to be crossed. In despair, one or more of the enslaved people break away to throw themselves on the mercy of the god, begging for their people to be liberated from their oppressors. This transgressor is caught and tortured by the warlord and his evil minions, which awakens the dormant god, who then presides over a stunning climax of stone cold, apocalyptic retribution.
Whereas Daiei's GAMERA films were made for young audiences, the DAIMAJIN films are likely to pose a problem for many younger viewers (and, indeed, some adults) in that they maintain a rigorously realistic, dramatic stance for maybe 80% of their running time, withholding the "monster" and its righteous path of destruction for the last 10-18 minutes. But the films hold great rewards for the patient; you might reach for these wanting a monster, but you'll also see some splendid, poignant performances, some of the best Japanese cinematography of the period, and the most formidable giant city-crushing behemoth Toho never made. Everything Majin does is spectacular and he's not onscreen long enough to wear out his welcome.
In English, these films are known as MAJIN - THE MONSTER OF TERROR (that's the AIP TV title by which it was known in televised syndication back in the 1960s and '70s), THE RETURN OF MAJIN, and THE WRATH OF MAJIN. All these titles have been updated to DAIMAJINs now - the combination word meaning "Devil Name." Majin is a god, and is only mentioned as such by those who believe in him, who are fundamentally good. But the villains of each piece, who are evil and lead lives of avarice and violence and criminality, meet someone quite different when they face the avatar of all they believe in.
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| DAIMAJIN prepares to avenge a crucified member of his flock. |
In the manner of folk tales passed down through the millennia, this basic story mutates in the DAIMAJIN series with each retelling. In the first film, the story begins with a coup as the evil warlord Hanabasa seizes power by assassinating the king; the slain ruler's two children are smuggled into hiding atop the mountain, where superstition forbids them to be followed - and the bulk of the story takes place eighteen years later, when they come of age and vow to reclaim their birthright. In the second, directed by Kenji Misumi (known for his ZATOICHI and LONE WOLF AND CUB films), Majin's sacred shrine is on an island between two coastal villages which are attacked by an evil lord's army on the occasion of a celebration when their defenses are low. A chosen group of representatives flee to the island to pray to their god, and troops are sent in their wake to destroy the statue - which angers the god into activity. In the third, directed by Kazuo Mori, a village with a strong logging community is overseen each day by the benign spirit of Majin, poised on a nearby mountaintop, a peak said to be impassible. When a warlord conquers the village and enslaves its men to convert their land into a fortress suitable for him, one man volunteers to escape and make the trek to the mountain top - but fails. This task is then secretly undertaken by three of the loggers' sons, who are secretly followed by another child much too young to face such dangers - whose presence doesn't make himself known till the journey is well past the point of return.
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| An impressive wink at Cecil B. DeMille in THE RETURN OF DAIMAJIN. |
Also with each film, there is also a change of season and milieu. The first film evokes summer, the second autumn, and the third winter. Likewise, the first film is set well inland and is lush with forest greenery; much of the the second takes place in and around water; and the the third encompasses a sudden snowstorm. All three films qualify as serious fantasy, yet the basic character of the three films also differs in subtle but interesting ways. In the first two films, female characters are significant to the stories, but the third film features almost none. The first is a very sober historical drama - up to a point; the second has the most contemporary pacing and is a bit lighter, more focused on spectacle, which makes it the closest of the trilogy to the feel of a classic kaiju tale; and the third recalls classic Walt Disney adventure drama as its young cast prove their mettle by surviving against nature and other dangerous odds to achieve their goal. I think it's important to watch the films in sequence. Despite their redundancy, it's an interesting redundancy - one that seems to say something about how stories change when told by different storytellers. The same thing goes for Akira Ifukube's scores for all three, which all share the same gargantuan hallmarks but find opportunities to accentuate the time period and the personalities of the characters with singular melodic touches and accents. They are all beautifully made and each has its own unique strengths. Speaking for myself, I find the first film the most viscerally powerful, the second the most visually thrilling, and the third (which features almost no female characters) the most heart-rending.
They have been available on disc before, even on Blu-ray, but the English-friendly releases have been slight in terms of extras - until now. Arrow Video has now assembled a definitive, meticulously well-curated box set, THE DAIMAJIN TRILOGY, which includes each film in 1080p on its own disc (already breaking new ground). All three films are presented in their original 2.35:1 screen ratio and with 1.0 mono audio. They are packaged with a choice of reversible sleeves, offering either wonderful film-specific original art by Matt Frank (who also gave this set a beautiful outer cover) or original Japanese poster art, along with a tastefully designed 100-page book with new essays by Jonathan Clements, Keith Aiken, Ed Godziszewski, Raffael Coronelli, Robin Gatto, and Kevin Derendorf. The book should not be passed off as mere decoration, but used as a sturdy and valuable companion toward a greater understanding of the films' historical timeframe and geographies, production challenges, theatrical distribution in Japan and abroad, and the man mostly responsible for for their impressive spectacle, Fujio Morita, who worked on all three films.
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| THE WRATH OF DAIMAJIN. |
For many collectors, the three new audio commentaries will be another main draw. I've only had time to sample them but Stuart Galbraith IV (DAIMAJIN), Tom Mes and Jasper Sharp (RETURN OF MAJIN), and Jonathan Clements (WRATH OF MAJIN) are all well-established names in the study of Asian cult cinema and they know their stuff. You can trust them to enrich your own appreciation of what's being offered here. Each film is also accompanied by one or more trailers and image galleries, as well as postcards featuring Japanese artwork, but each disc also seems to have its own special feature(s). These range from a rollicking Kim Newman overview of the entire series (ideal for entry-level viewers); Ed Godziszewski's video essay on the series' special effects; a marvelous interview with Prof. Yoneo Ota, a Japanese film historian who was present on the set and is a source of engrossing information about the films, their inner workings, and their unique appeal; and a feature-length interview/master class with Fujio Morita (who died in 2014) in which he discusses his career and deconstructs the special effects highlights of each film, as well as some others. He's very sharp and lucid in his information, but it should be noted that the English subtitles for this interview have their eccentricities; I believe the Maestro means "mist" or "fog" when the subtitles say "gas," and the machine he describes as a "double reel camera" appears to be what we know in English as an optical printer. Minor terminology gaffes aside, this is a fabulous opportunity to peer behind the curtain of his art and science.
We now live in an age when even Herschell Gordon Lewis, Al Adamson, Andy Milligan, and Bill Rebane have their own box sets. As wonderful and unlikely as these chimera are, it's a different thing to hold a box set of films like this one, which curate a thorough documentation of the very best of a certain niche of filmmaking. THE DAIMAJIN TRILOGY may not be an auteur set, but when you hold it in your hand, it has the heft and authority of a kind of Bible. Pick it up and dream about smiting the warlords in your own life.
(c) 2021 by Tim Lucas. All rights reserved.
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