ISSUE #53
BEAM FROM THE BOOTH | GRAND RAPIDS FILM SOCIETY
[EDITED BY: GRIFFIN SHERIDAN]
Hello and welcome back to an all-new installment of BEAM FROM THE BOOTH brought to you by GRAND RAPIDS FILM SOCIETY!
It was so great getting to celebrate at our special Grand Rapids premiere screening of MARQUEETOWN last week. A huge thanks to Joe Beyer and his team for sharing the film with GRFS and Wealthy Theatre (and so many venues just like it) and taking the time to chat afterwards. Cheers to our favorite movie houses!
Speaking of movie houses, we’re inviting you down to the lovely Wealthy Theatre TONIGHT at 8pm for the first of four films in our SEASONS OF BERGMAN series with THE VIRGIN SPRING.
With his signature insight, here’s David to kick us off this week…
BERGMAN IN REVIEW: THE VIRGIN SPRING
[BY: DAVID BLAKESLEE]
The following essay is adapted from a blog post I wrote about The Virgin Spring back in 2013. It goes into considerable detail about events that occur in the film, so it may be best to read it after one’s first viewing.
Inspired by a medieval Scandinavian folk ballad, The Virgin Spring bears numerous similarities to Ingmar Bergman's international breakthrough sensation The Seventh Seal (1957). It’s safe to assume that the project was put together at least in part to build upon the popularity of that film, shot just three years earlier but still going strong as it made its way to art house cinematheques around the world, impressing audiences with its deft combination of crisp black & white cinematography, medieval atmosphere, and a bold willingness to go deep in the philosophical weight of its subject matter. By placing their stories in far distant time periods, the high-minded dialogue and overtly archetypal characters feel more plausible to modern audiences and better facilitate exchanges that might feel ponderous or unwieldy if voiced by actors in more modern dress and circumstances. Even though The Virgin Spring won an Academy Award, a Golden Globe, and Japan's Kinema Jumpo honors as “best foreign film,” Bergman abandoned distant historical settings for the remainder of his career. It's possible that he didn't want to get pigeon-holed as a kind of formulaic director, but it's just as likely that he was put on alert by the disdain that the critical intelligentsia, particularly in Europe, felt for his film when it was first released. As the French nouvelle vague was just on the brink of exploding in the 1960s film scene, with a decidedly cool attitude and a lack of interest in rehashing what seemed at the time like tired, worn-out platitudes of religious debate, Bergman's archaic depiction of a man's crisis of conscience and vexation over the inscrutable will of God felt passé, indulgent, and — worst of all — irrelevant. Admiration for his technical skills and the visual beauty of the work was practically universal, but it’s fascinating to see just how poorly The Virgin Spring fared among the Cahiers du Cinema crowd and others who saw this film as evidence of ‘Bergman in decline!’ But back then, I guess they were looking for something a little more hip, cool, and jazzy than the introspective Swede could muster.
But so much for the debates that followed The Virgin Spring's original release. Now it's regarded as a pivotal masterpiece, even an ‘early work’ of sorts, since he went on to make so many amazing films over the course of the next few decades. The intervening decades have gone on to demonstrate that questions about God and ethics are still very much with us in popular discourse, not to mention a lingering intrigue with the medieval era, when life’s conditions were crude but so much simpler, and motives of lust and vengeance were more readily acted upon than in the litigious, security-minded, and constantly monitored society that's developed in recent decades.
For anyone who hasn't seen The Virgin Spring, or needs a refresher, the plot is straightforward. A teenage girl named Karin, only child of Torë and Märeta, prosperous and upstanding Christian farmers, is sent one morning to deliver candles to the church some miles away from their isolated, fortress-like estate. The girl is pretty, conceited, and naive, the result of a privileged and pampered upbringing. She's accompanied for part of the journey by Ingeri, her dark-haired, unkempt, and scandalously pregnant foster sister, but the two split up along the way after a brief spat and Ingeri's fears that something bad is about to happen (something she actually prayed to her pagan god Odin to make happen!). Karin, now riding alone, is met by a trio of brothers — two men and a boy — who herd goats in the wilderness. They charm her with flattering words, and she agrees to spend a moment sharing her lunch with them...but they soon surround her then savagely rape and kill her. Stripping her dead body of the fine garments that she'd worn to carry out her sacred delivery, the brothers arrive late that evening at Torë's farmstead. Keeping in custom with his status as a benevolent landowner, he agrees to give them lodging on a cold, frost-bitten night. In the course of their stay, Torë and Märeta discover evidence that proves the men killed their missing daughter. This revelation pushes Torë into a ritual of vengeance that runs contrary to his professed Christian faith. After he has completed his brutal acts of retribution, he leads his household on a trek through the forest to find Karin's corpse. Upon seeing her lying in her unnatural repose, Torë in anguish prays aloud to God, confessing his own sin in killing the men who abused his daughter and wondering why the Almighty allowed all this to happen. As the grieving parents lift Karin's head to begin the burial preparations, a stream of water miraculously begins to flow out from the spot on which she laid — the “virgin spring” for which the film is named.
That's the basic outline, but of course there's much more to be savored and contemplated. One of the most obvious and routinely noted tensions is the conflict between the old Nordic paganism and the emergence of Christianity that was in the process of becoming the established conquering religion as Europe's new order spread into the northernmost regions of the continent. Odin-worship is introduced immediately through Ingeri, in both her three-breath incantation-like lighting of the morning fire and her overt prayers to Odin as The Virgin Spring opens. She seeks his furious reprisals through invective curses she calls down on those who consider themselves her benefactors, and her superiors, though she regards them as inflicting torment on her lonely, forsaken existence. In sharp contrast to her guttural petitions, we cut straight to Torë and Märeta saying their own morning prayers, in front of a large wood-carved crucifix. In this scene, we begin to see more than the simple dualism of pagan vs. Christian that most commentators dwell on, for Torë and Märeta each show subtle distinctions in how religion fits into their lives. Märeta is earnestly sincere to the point of inflicting severe penance on herself for what she regards as insufficient piety, while Torë gives hints of being a more formal (and less emotionally invested) participant in Christian rituals, stifling a yawn in his prayers and seldom going beyond the minimal requirements of his (presumably) recently acquired faith.
Likewise in Ingeri and an unnamed pagan bridge keeper, we see different shades of the old heathen-style practice. For Ingeri, it appears that her embrace of Odin is as much an act of rebellion and rejection of the moralistic, shaming Christianity that has caused her to feel like such an outcast. Ingeri is acting out her resentment and frustration in calling upon Odin and the dark spirits who accompany him, while the bridge keeper seems more like a dedicated adherent to the old ways, gathering his relics and reveling in the chance to show them off to a lusty young woman who obviously seems familiar and receptive to the now-forbidden fruit he seeks to offer.
And in Karin we see another kind of spirituality of sorts: a self-satisfied, smug, and presumptuous faith that has been largely untested by real trials in life — drawing from that lack of stress a sense of entitlement, privilege, and divine protection that proves to be tragically ill-founded. She's aware of the growing power that her beauty can achieve, moaning pitiably or turning on the charm with a smile, a hug, and a twinkle in her eyes, whatever is best suited to deliver the comfort she seeks. The contrasts between her, knowingly pampered by her parents and flattered by the gentlemen whose attention she effortlessly draws, and the reprobate Ingeri are easily cataloged: light/darkness, indulgence/discipline, smugness/self-loathing, innocent/cynical, chaste/lascivious, water/fire...and so on.
The Virgin Spring divides fairly neatly into three distinct parts, each initiated by an elaborate set of preparations, though each are directed toward very different purposes. The first preparation ritual involves Märeta and Karin as the mother dresses her daughter in the most elegant finery they can assemble for her to take her doomed pilgrimage into the countryside. After more-or-less faking an illness as a pretext for sleeping in, Karin fairly bounds out of bed when her mother produces the sumptuous garments in which she'll be clothed. Tenderly brushing Karin's lovely blonde hair, Märeta unknowingly provides her daughter's last rites, as does Torë a few minutes later when he shares one last embrace and fond words of admonition with her before she sets out on her way.
A second preparation takes place after the three goatherds hear the whinny of Karin's steed and catch a glimpse of her, sunning herself in a mild ecstasy out in an open clearing of the forest. Instantly seized with lust for this unimaginably vulnerable maiden, the two older brothers pursue her like wild game, using their knowledge of hidden paths and shortcuts to promptly appear in her path. Quickly sizing up her enjoyment of flattery and the exploitable kindness of a young girl's heart, they easily persuade her to pause a moment to keep them company, and she does — hardly suspecting the terrors that await. Some reviews I've read lump the goatherds’ spirituality in with the pagans Ingeri and that bridge keeper, but I disagree with that conclusion. They are not acting out of any particular form of belief or moral code but simply an unchecked impulse of raw lust and greedy opportunity. Despite her unreflective assumption of God's protection, given the holy errand she's been assigned to perform, Karin quickly finds herself surrounded and helpless to resist the diabolical whims that the two older men — and even the younger, astonished brother — give into as they pursue, restrain, ravish, and murder her in the span a few horrific minutes. Even in today's relentlessly explicit popular culture, this scene retains its power to disturb all but the most calloused viewers. Despite Karin's obvious ‘spoilage’ due to parental doting, she retains a sweetness that is utterly sad to see cut down so heinously, so meaninglessly.
The third preparation sequence occurs in the middle of the night after Märeta, internally wrought with dreadful anxiety over her missing daughter, is presented with the garments that she instantly recognizes and from which she draws the appallingly correct conclusions. The goatherd seeks to exchange the fine silken shift for some badly-needed money. Exhibiting immense calm and constrained self-control by not reacting to what she's just learned, Märeta simply informs her guest that she needs to consult with her husband to determine the exact price that such a precious package demands. With great composure, she delivers the evidence to her husband who instantly springs into action, knowing now what fate has befallen his dear Karin and understanding the vengeful, merciless task required of him.
After his initial self-flagellation and ablutions are completed, Torë goes about his business with cold-blooded zeal in one of the most chilling demonstrations of visceral revenge that the cinema had ever seen to that point. Stabbing one of Karin's assailants in the throat, strangling another before pushing his body into a fire pit, and finally capping it off with the nauseating spectacle of a young boy's body hurled viciously into a wall, it's far from the kind of feel-good score-settling that we've come to take for granted in the “rape revenge” genre that arguably grew directly out of The Virgin Spring. In particular, the boy's killing is a step too far that parallels Karin's senseless slaughter and ought to remove, or at least tarnish, the sense of sympathy that we have for Torë as he unleashes his inner fury. Along with the rough, unblinking rape scene (which was originally censored in the USA and elsewhere), it established Bergman's strong reputation as a groundbreaker when it came to candor and realism regarding visual depiction of life's most excruciating moments. Naturally, some of this was billed and advertised in exploitative fashion, but Bergman had an important role to play in the 1960s cultural revolutions, and it helped the cause of free speech that he was able to make these innovations in vehicles that tangibly demonstrated artistic depth and credibility.
The final scene, involving the retrieval of Karin's body after a procession through the forest that briefly conjures a woodsy comparison to The Seventh Seal's ‘Dance of Death,’ leads to the wondrous sign of flowing water that follows Torë's anguished confession to God. It keeps faith with the enigmatic ballad “Torës dotter i Vange” that The Virgin Spring is adapted from, though it makes a significant dramatic improvement in postponing the bubbling forth of that fountain until the girl's body has been discovered by her parents rather than immediately upon her death as implied by the original text. His vow to build a church on that now-holy site, and the apparent vindication of an overtly Christian interpretation of the myth may also account for some of the higher-critical drubbing that The Virgin Spring received in some circles — as well as its more popular embrace by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences and others who probably appreciated Bergman's apparent endorsement of religious faith. However viewers personally apply the spiritual implications of this film, there's no disputing the fact that from this point forward, Bergman's wrestling with Christianity — and the shadows of his own personal past and present — would grow ever more complicated...and fascinating.
FILMMAKER SPOTLIGHT
DANTE JAMES
(Open Projector Night Winner, March ‘24)
[BY: NICHOLAS HARTMAN]
Hey Dante! First and foremost, thank you for taking the time to do this interview with me. To kick things off, let’s keep it simple: for those who don’t know Dante James, can you give us a little bio?
I was born and raised in Grand Rapids. I graduated from Ottawa Hills High School and Grand Valley State College. I also have a master’s degree from Duke University. I worked at WGVU TV — actually, it was WGVC TV then — as a student, and after graduating, I joined the staff as a producer/director and, several years later, was promoted to production operations manager. I left WGVU and worked at PBS stations in Washington, DC then moved on to Blackside Films in Boston as an independent filmmaker. I have produced or supervised the production of over 25 hours of prime-time PBS programming, and I’m a multiple Emmy award recipient.
For those who haven’t seen your award-winning film The Doll, can you give us a synopsis?
Set in the early 1900s and based on the short story by Charles W. Chesnutt, The Doll tells the story of Tom Taylor, a Black man who rents a barbershop in a white-owned hotel. Taylor's morality and sense of justice are challenged when he can avenge the racial murder that took his father's life decades earlier.
I feel like every filmmaker has that “spark,” that moment where they say to themselves ‘Yes, this is what I want to do, I want to make films.’ Did you have that moment — and if so — could you share it with us? If you didn’t have that moment, what made you want to make movies?
Storytelling is vital to African and African American culture, from the Griot to writers, spoken word artists, musicians, singers, and filmmakers. I come from a family of skilled storytellers, and I believe that's where my love for storytelling began. Looking back, I had a fascination for moving images. During my grade school years, I would often set up movie projectors for my teachers. Later, I developed an interest in Black history, literature, and the complexity of human experiences.
My first job in the industry was as a studio technician at KSTP TV in St. Paul, Minnesota. However, I soon realized that my true passion was creating and interpreting content rather than focusing on its technical aspects. As a result, I moved back to Grand Rapids, re-enrolled at Grand Valley, worked at WGVC TV as a student, and — after graduating — joined the staff.
So, my “spark” was the opportunity and challenge of merging technology, spirituality, and artistry grounded in the humanities to create meaningful and engaging stories that reveal the complexity of our journeys as human beings.
I understand The Doll was shot on Super 16mm. Can you discuss that aesthetic choice and why you wanted to shoot 16 rather than digital? Off that, what are the advantages and disadvantages of shooting film?
The Doll is a story set in the early 1900s. Digital is a contemporary medium with a modern look and feel. As a filmmaker, academic, and artist, I strongly believe in respecting history and my audience. My thinking was, and still is, that shooting with a digital medium for a historical period piece can consciously or subconsciously be a barrier to the audience's engagement with the story.
Shooting film requires more discipline, yet it is also more visually engaging. A talented DP can provide a broader range of tones, visual emotion, a deeper sense of place and environment — in general, a richer visual palette. With digital video, I have more latitude to be spontaneous. It is a more technical medium.
I don’t have a problem with digital video, but when I immerse myself in a project, the material speaks to me both editorially and artistically. With The Doll, the look of 16mm film worked better for the story and time period. Several changes in the original text, first published in The Crisis magazine in 1912, were required to evolve the story for a contemporary audience while respecting the integrity of Mr. Chesnutt’s work. For me, filmmaking is a challenging, demanding, yet fun interdisciplinary process regardless of whether I’m shooting film or digital video.
I know The Doll is based on a story written by Charles W. Chesnutt. Out of all the stories that have been written, what was it about this specific story that stood out you? Why did you want to tell this specific story through the lens of a camera?
At the time, I was — and I still am — troubled by the numerous negative images of Black men. This story presented many opportunities to counter those images in an engaging, entertaining, and thought-provoking way. Too often, Black men are portrayed as absent from their children's lives. Tom Taylor is a Black man raising his daughter alone. Too often, Black men are framed as selfish and irresponsible. Taylor is a hardworking professional who is concerned about his employees and community. Most importantly, when he feels the natural human emotions of anger, pain, and revenge, he controls those emotions.
The story was also an opportunity to highlight the work of Charles W. Chesnutt, an underappreciated Black writer. In a larger context, I wanted the project to bring attention to the often-overlooked brilliant short stories by gifted Black authors – stories of self determination and self-definition.
Making a film is no easy task. There are so many moving parts, so many roles, etc. Can you talk about any specific hurdles you faced and how you overcame them?
The biggest challenge in any project is to secure resources to produce it without editorial or artistic constraints. There is a natural tension between filmmakers and funders or investors. Filmmakers want to put the most engaging and challenging story on the screen, whereas private investors are interested in saving money and maximizing profits. With PBS projects, station executives must be concerned about offending funders (including PBS, CPB, and foundations) with controversial material. If one can reconcile the disparate interests and maintain the project's integrity, the next challenge is assembling the production team.
The standard for everyone who works on my projects, including me is “check your ego at the door.” I establish an understanding that we are going to have some creative and content differences, but none of them are personal. Respectful creative and intellectual tensions and discussions are fundamental to outstanding, complex, engaging content. I want a team where everyone is invested in the film and subject matter. I want people who care about what we are doing and are willing to go the extra mile. And I want an environment of mutual support where everyone can grow and move their professional aspirations forward.
Generic question, but I must know: what’s your favorite film? If you don’t have a favorite, name a picture that you cherish.
I need time to think about the question. However, two films come to mind that are special to me: the HARPO production of The Great Debaters, featuring Denzel Washington and Forest Whitaker, and the HBO production of A Lesson Before Dying, based on the novel by Ernest Gaines and starring Don Cheadle. Both films explore the humanity, dignity, and resilience of Black people and have remarkable writing that makes them engaging. Additionally, the acting in both films is outstanding.
Both of these films are based on Black literature and history. If one is interested in exploring authentic interpretations of our journeys in America (I say journeys because we are not monolithic), the keys to doing so are embedded in our history, literature, and culture.
To all the filmmakers out there that are interested in creating their own movies but haven’t taken that step yet, what advice would you give to them?
It is important to consistently work on improving your craft. For instance, writers should write often, and painters should paint regularly. Filmmakers must take steps to produce films and enhance their creative and intellectual abilities. Additionally, it is crucial to conduct a thorough investigation of your subject matter. In order to convey a narrative effectively, you must have a complete understanding and appreciation of it.
This is a question I like to ask all our award-winning filmmakers. If you were able to make your dream film and had an unlimited budget, what would you make?
I'm sorry, but I can’t answer that because I do not dream of projects and possibilities. I have visions of what I want to do, reasons why I think they are needed, and plans to build an infrastructure to execute the vision. I have several vision projects under consideration at major production companies and other funding entities, but I can’t reveal what they are yet. I can say one project includes a vision of shooting a film in Grand Rapids. Based on a plan to do so, I’m confident this vision will become a reality.
An essential element of the vision is to work with young aspiring filmmakers from the neighborhoods I grew up in and provide them with exposure and experience working with real industry professionals on productions and through workshops.
How do we stay up to date with Dante James? Do you have a website or any social media channels you can encourage our audience to follow?
I don’t have time for, or interest in, social media on a personal level. I’ll have a staff member handle all facets of social media when we launch a project. In the meantime, my website is www.blackpearmw.com.
What’s next for Dante James? Anything new in the works?
I have several projects under consideration, but I cannot provide any specific details about them yet. In a generic context, these projects include a series of dramatic short films, a mini-series based on the Black Church, a documentary, and a feature film based on a novel. Hopefully, I will be able to share more details about them soon.
Apart from these projects, I am also researching teaching opportunities and possibilities at the university level in Grand Rapids. I taught for six years at Duke University as an artist-in-residence, one year at North Carolina State, and two years at the University of Dayton. I believe that committed students can expand the parameters of discourse, they have their own visions of the future. Fortunately, they often see possibilities — not limitations.
Any words on your experience with/at Open Projector Night?
Open Projector Night was fun, as was coming home and seeing family, friends, and former colleagues. I congratulate all of the filmmakers. I’m committed to contributing to the growth of filmmaking in Grand Rapids and creating opportunities for the next generation of filmmakers.
A HISTORY OF THE “MONSTERVERSE” — PART 2
[BY: ERIK HOWARD]
Since the first part of my “History of the ‘Monsterverse’” released in last week’s issue, there have been some extremely exciting developments in the world of the “Monsterverse.” In terms of official confirmations, Apple TV’s Monarch: Legacy of Monsters has officially been renewed for a second season with confirmation of spin-off shows within the universe. In further exciting news, Legendary’s Mary Parent — producer of all four major Monsterverse films we touched on in issue 52 — has said “We are in a good position to continue the journey, but let’s see how Godzilla x Kong unfolds. These are early days, but we are certainly feeling good.” In the span of just a week, the Monsterverse not only guaranteed its television future but has proclaimed great confidence in seeing through what GxK director Adam Wingard would like to see as a new trilogy in the Monsterverse involving the two titular kaiju.
This confidence and excitement around the future of the Monsterverse still feels surreal when a moment of pause reminds you that, just last month, Godzilla Minus One (2023) took home the first Oscar in the Big G’s 70-year career for Best Visual Effects. No matter how you look at it, whether you’re a veteran fan or just an admirer of big monsters beating the crap out of each other, this is the golden era of Godzilla and the greater kaiju genre as a whole. Yet the question I posed last week was a simple one: “why?” Why has it taken 70 years for Godzilla specifically to reach the strides of two separate film universes across two countries that are financial and critical successes? To conclude the greater history of the Monsterverse, we’re going to take a brief look at the three major eras of Godzilla and draw some conclusions about why the success we see today owes itself to the history of this iconic cinematic character.
THE SHOWA ERA: 1954-1975
The very first era of Godzilla’s existence was marked by none other than his introduction in Godzilla (1954). A film which stands the test of time as one of the most historically significant cinematic achievements in Japan, Godzilla introduced the world to the terrifying scars of nuclear fallout which had torn the collective psyche of Japan apart. A devastating monster born of egregious nuclear testing during wartime, Godzilla rampages through a helpless Tokyo as scientists must face the horror that humanity’s appetite for destruction created. The film was nothing short of bleak, hopeless, and cautionary towards the lives we live amidst the threats and dangers of nuclear weaponry. The film’s success is difficult to measure without the benefit of hindsight, as the film was not originally recognized as a grandiose achievement critically. While the film was financially successful, earning approximately $2.25 million USD (in 1954!), Japanese critics were torn between damning it as exploitative of the scars of wartime and a strange monster film. It wasn’t until Godzilla was released overseas in a poorly-adapted iteration called Godzilla, King of the Monsters! (1956) that critical attention began to turn to this film being a serious depiction of the consequences of atomic warfare, while recognizing and appreciating the tone and horror of what Godzilla represented.
Toho knew one thing after the 1954 film’s release: they had a huge hit on their hands. They immediately ordered a sequel to be rushed out the door and would release one only a year later titled Godzilla Raids Again (1955), thus marking a troubling standard for the first era of Godzilla. The Showa Era specifically can be remembered as sequel overload, as Godzilla would see an astonishing 14 sequels within a 19 year period, which is even more astonishing when you recognize the 8 year gap between 1955’s Godzilla Raids Again and King Kong vs. Godzilla (1963). The latter, of course, is all the more relevant today with the long-awaited rematch being made possible in 2021, but it also has to be recognized as a truly goofy movie. What many readers may not know is that Godzilla was pivoted towards being a children’s character near the end of this era. Between the absolute bastard that is Minilla (Godzilla’s son or whatever) and Godzilla literally talking with speech bubbles accompanying roars, it felt like a long departure from the horrors of ‘54 near the end of this era. The Showa Era was responsible for introducing so many iconic kaiju such as King Ghidorah, Mothra, and Rodan yet had turned Godzilla’s fights into something to laugh at rather than fear. Fatigue eventually caught up to the series, as the final entry in the era known as Terror of Mechagodzilla (1975) was an absolute financial disaster for Toho. Godzilla would be retired for nine years as no other Godzilla individual film could be produced with critical and financial certainty.
THE HEISEI ERA: 1984-1995
After the aforementioned nine-year hiatus, Toho would revive Godzilla in a large-scale reboot that scrubbed all but 1954’s debut from continuity. Monster-based horror was really developing across the world during the Showa Era, with films like Ridley Scott’s Alien being released in 1979 followed by John Carpenter’s The Thing releasing in 1982. Godzilla’s creator Tomoyuki Tanaka helmed this relaunch and made it a central goal to reintroduce Godzilla as the horror icon he had become in ‘54. Tanaka would achieve his vision in the release of 1984’s The Return of Godzilla, which serves as a direct sequel to the 1954 original and places Godzilla right at the center of a deeply political international conflict involving the utilization of nuclear weapons to take down the titular creature. The film released to strong success bringing in an adjusted-for-2023 box office return of $41 million USD and rave reviews from critics praising the return to a darker tone for a new and ferocious Godzilla. This had officially ushered in what would be known as the “Heisei Era” consisting of seven films, all with a focus on Godzilla brawling against old and excitingly new kaiju alike.
This era, while short, contains some of the most powerful moments in the franchise’s history. Godzilla himself develops into this ferocious-looking kaiju who faces off against forces of indomitable nature like Biollante and the literal manifestation of what killed Godzilla in 1954 as the devilish (and my personal favorite) Destroyah. Toho had reminded critics, fans, and the world alike that Godzilla’s legacy would endure through the death and destruction Godzilla represented but also how Godzilla would always be locked in battle with yet another creation due to the hubris and recklessness of man creating an enemy for him. The era has the best monster brawls, relatively interesting human conflicts, and incredible technical aspects within the suit and set pieces used for the films. Yet, in a cruel irony, the Heisei Era barely survived long enough to carry this vision forward as Toho looked to expand Godzilla to American markets for what would become the U.S.’s own trilogy of films from...Tristar.
THE MILLENNIUM ERA: 1999-2004
Not gonna mince words on this era, it’s a pure dumpster fire. Many of you reading have probably seen or heard of the disaster that is Roland Emmerich’s Godzilla (1998) from Tristar pictures which, frankly, couldn’t decide if it was a Jurassic Park movie or an action movie of little substance. The film was an absolute domestic financial disaster, yet Sony maintains the film was an international success and scored massive merchandising profits even though they include the vastly superior animated Godzilla: The Series which aired from 1998 to 2000, as part of that equation. Toho themselves were absolutely dumbfounded at how poorly this film was received and feared for the worst. Godzilla’s brand identity was under threat internationally as Toho’s plans for a 10-year hiatus from producing Godzilla films was immediately retracted. Tristar’s planned trilogy was out the door, and Toho went into full panic mode to try and ship out Godzilla films that would re-legitimize Godzilla’s brand identity.
Not following any proper continuity, the six films of the Millennium Era are disjointed brawls between new and old kaiju each taking different aspects from different films across Toho’s library to create extremely convoluted stories and origins of the Godzilla representation on screen. While a cult-following has formed around each individual film, specifically for Godzilla, Mothra and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All Out Monsters Attack (2001) — which has yielded arguably the most ferocious iteration of Godzilla in history — the era ended with the lovably chaotic Godzilla: Final Wars (2004) which celebrated the 50th anniversary of the cinematic icon. It features the most kaiju in any film to date, and is about two hours of Godzilla just absolutely annihilating every iteration of past villains in the franchise. The film performed poorly in Japan, however, and was predated by Toho already deciding that after Final Wars Godzilla and Toho would finally earn their 10-year break to recuperate and evaluate the long-term future of the iconic monster. This hiatus would mark the end of the short-lived and hasty stint known as the Millennium Era and sent Godzilla into a long period of dormancy not only in theaters...but in the minds of fans alike.
THE CURRENT ERA: 2014-2024
Now, if you’ve read my previous piece on the Monsterverse you know what came after that 10-year period, and ten years on from Gareth Edwards’ 2014 film Godzilla’s future is as bright as ever. What this long historical look at Godzilla was meant to illustrate is how, in the modern day, Toho and Warner Bros./Legendary alike have shown that Godzilla can exist in two forms at the same time. Toho has clearly demonstrated that their exceptionally talented teams can produce heart-wrenching and deeply political pieces that have yielded the most destructive and terrifying iterations of Godzilla yet in 2016’s Shin Godzilla and 2023’s Oscar-winning Godzilla Minus One. Minus One’s success internationally is a great thing for this franchise, especially given Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire (2024) has outperformed the Dune sequel’s domestic opening, because it means that American audiences are finally receiving what Godzilla can be rather than should be. Godzilla is a deeply tragic force of nature born through scientific malpractice and destructive hubris of humanity...while also being a goofy protector of Earth who can suplex giant monkeys off of pyramids. Human characters are either deeply scarred from their experiences of wartime or forced to pay reparations for the destruction and ineptitude that has all but destroyed their homeland and future generations’ livelihoods...or humans are just along for the ride in batshit crazy technological advancements and journeys to the core of the Earth which houses an entire ecosystem of kaiju.
At the center of these films are deeply passionate filmmakers who have been inspired by the perseverance of an icon through generations of cinema. As audiences have grown beyond the historical significance of Godzilla in 1954, there has always been a call to return to what this character represents and the deep societal scars of a nation that simply cannot be ignored and lost to time. Yet as stories such as Minus One as well as those of the Monsterverse are told, it’s also important to remember the days you and some friends sat around a TV laughing at how silly it was that Godzilla performed a drop kick standing at a perfect horizontal angle and sliding on his tail. No matter what iteration of Godzilla hits screens internationally, there will always be discussion, appreciation, and awe of what he means for whomever is at the helm of the film. To me, Godzilla has always represented both of the iterations that are playing out as I write this. I remember watching ‘54 with my dad at a young age where we all but ignored the deeply potent human conflict to watch a man in a suit break apart miniature power lines. I remember watching Showa Era films with friends in college to laugh at the silly choreography of the fights. I remember a close friend of mine seeing Shin Godzilla for the first time and maintaining it as his favorite given how deeply political and stylized it is from visionary filmmaker Hideaki Anno. And I’ll always remember that, in a two-month span, I watched arguably the best Godzilla film of all time win the first Oscar for the franchise in history as well as sitting in a packed IMAX theater filled with laughter as Kong and Godzilla battled massive kaiju in zero gravity. Memories are what make cinema so important, and there is no franchise that I have better memories of than that of Godzilla’s long and decorated history.
UPCOMING EVENTS
THE VIRGIN SPRING (Bergman, 1960)
WHAT: PART OF OUR “SEASONS OF BERGMAN” SERIES. Ingmar Bergman returns to a medieval European setting to adapt a 13th century Swedish folk ballad centering on themes of familial honor, exploited innocence, merciless revenge, and the application of faith when grappling with tragedy.
WHEN: TONIGHT! Monday, April 15th, 8:00pm
WHERE: Wealthy Theatre
MOVIE TRIVIA @ CRESTON BREWERY
WHAT: What else needs to be said? Grab some friends and join us for our first-ever movie trivia social event! *See event page for full details.*
WHEN: Tuesday, April 30th, 6:00pm
WHERE: Creston Brewery
And so we’ve arrived at the end of another BEAM FROM THE BOOTH! We appreciate you taking the time to read it and truly hope you’ll continue to do so. Be sure to SUBSCRIBE to get each issue in your inbox every MONDAY (usually), and stay up-to-date on all things GRFS.
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Until then, friends...
