orror fans have long recognized the subtle differences in the way various countries choose to scare home- grown viewers but, until recently, the
subject had not received much academic atten- tion. Only contemporary works such as Adam Lowenstein’s Shocking Representation and Linnie Blake’s The Wounds of Nations have started to look at how a culture’s horror cinema is emblem- atic of traumatic historical events. Not surprisingly, both books devote large sections to the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki that have echoed through Japanese horror films for decades. It’s a theme that’s also at the forefront of When Horror Came to Shochiku, a new release from Criterion’s Eclipse imprint. This incredible four-DVD set paints a picture of a country still in the grip of nuclear uneasiness in the late 1960s, trying to bandage the deep wounds of the past with a dose of camp madness. One of Japan’s more prestigious studios,
Shochiku, has produced films for Akira Kurosawa, Takashi Miike and Takeshi Kitano. The company made its first foray into sci-fi/horror in 1967 with a safe bet – a straight-up kaiju flick. The deliri- ously kitschy The X from Outer Space is a mostly routine effort in which a Martian spore is brought to Earth and mutates into Guilala, a particularly odd monster that looks like one of the ships from War of the Worlds (1953) crash-landed on Godzilla’s head. But what’s notable is the film’s relentless focus on de- stroyed cityscapes. Never before had a kaiju movie been so con- cerned with the aftermath of wanton destruction of buildings, planes and people. Director Kazui Nihonmatsu deeply probes the country’s post-bomb trauma as The X from Outer Space becomes a virtual restaging of Hi- roshima’s destruction. Nuclear panic also looms large over Nihon-
matsu’s 1968 follow-up Genocide, a lurid and bor- derline incoherent tale of insect infestations, mad science and a race for a missing hydrogen bomb. This time, the WASPiest concentration camp sur- vivor of all time breeds killer bees to help Russian
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by Paul Corupe
The X from Outer Space
Communists get revenge on the Nazis, or some- thing. Giving a Cold War atomic twist to what’s otherwise a typical killer nature movie is a neat trick and there are a few great visuals as massive swarms of insects on the horizon take down planes and steadily engulf the he- roes. But a maze of melodramatic subplots and some lacklustre ef- fects make this entry the weakest of the four films, despite an ad- mirable streak of nihilism capped with a mushroom-cloud finale that serves as a striking reminder of past atrocities. Undeniably, the most sober and
terrifying entry is Hajime Sato’s Goke, Body Snatcher from Hell (1968), a distinctly gooey riff on In-
vasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) that makes harrowing use of flashbacks of Vietnam atrocities and nuclear annihilation. The survivors of a hijacked plane that crashes in parts unknown come up against grey, gelatinous alien creatures that slip into their target’s brains, turning them into vampires. From bright red skies to glowing orange spacecraft, Goke is a candy-coloured film that’s somehow even more downbeat than Genocide, as it’s discovered that the aliens plan to massacre the entire human
race for its willingness to destroy itself. Finishing up the set is the 1968 black-and-white
obscurity The Living Skeleton (poster pictured), a haunting low-budget film about the ghosts of the past returning – literally. Creepy, stylized under- water skeletons keep bobbing up to the surface, the unfortunate victims of a pirate attack years ago. The sister of one of the victims discovers that the ship where the massacre took place has re- turned as a ghostly presence, seemingly to exact revenge on the bloodthirsty pirates. A highly at- mospheric film where the restless dead are finally given the peace they deserve, The Living Skeleton may be the only film in this set that doesn’t refer- ence the atom bomb, but the parallels are still clear – though ostensibly a revenge-from-beyond scenario, the movie takes a sombre, ceremonial approach that seems more focused on honouring the dead than gory retribution. Pulsating with post-atomic anxiety, these four
films may occasionally fall into kitsch but they’re also disturbing cultural artifacts that provide a window on how Japan coped with the aftermath of World War II. Essential viewing for Asian horror fans and definitely worth a look for adventurous cult film aficionados, Shochiku’s brief dip into the genre pool is an unmistakable attempt to explain and cope with the country’s most tragic trauma.