Gamera  (1965)

After Toho Studios resurrected Godzilla in the 60’s with a series of highly profitable battle royales, the race was on to cash in on the Kaiju Eiga (“giant monster movie”) wave.  The most successful of these imitators emerged from Daiei Studios in the form of Gamera, an enormous fire-breathing…turtle.  After a plane crashes in the Arctic carrying (what else?) nuclear weapons, the oversized amphibian awakens from the ice caps sporting huge lower fangs and a bad attitude.  Now to be fair, turtles were never designed to look cool walking around on their hind legs (and giant turtles don’t pull it off any better).  But soon the marauding menace (who flies by spinning around like a flying saucer shooting flames out of his legholes) is clumsily stomping miniatures of Tokyo into oblivion, and only the love of a brutally obnoxious, pudgy, turtle-obsessed child can stop his hideous rampage.  Youngsters will enjoy the kiddie-friendly Gamera, while adults bust a gut laughing at the cheap special effects, hilarious dubbed dialogue, and bonkers plotline (strictly by-the-numbers and about a millimeter deep).  Just when things seem truly desperate, the world’s ultra-top minds come up with the ultra top-secret “Z-Plan,” which basically consists of luring Gamera into the nose cone of a rocket and shooting him into space.  A brilliant scheme, especially if one plans to bring their monster back for numerous sequels.  Following in the footsteps of Godzilla’s Raymond Burr, the American release of the film featured re-edited scenes of American stars Albert Dekker and Brian Donlevy. 

Ghost and Mrs. Muir, The  (1947)

An absolutely enchanting love story with a touch of the supernatural.  Gene Tierney, as the recently widowed Mrs. Muir, moves out of her stiff-necked in-laws’ residence to an English seaside cottage, which she finds to be inhabited by the spirit of the salty Captain Gregg (Rex Harrison).  The singularly independent Muir proves to be more than a match for the sea dog, and the two engage in droll and witty verbal fencing, evolving from reluctant roommates to close companions and confidantes.  In an effort to raise money to maintain ownership of the house, the two collaborate on Gregg’s autobiography (yes, even ghosts need ghost writers).  In the publisher’s office, she meets the audacious and irrepressible Miles Fairly (George Sanders, at his silky best) who charms her into a romance, leaving Mrs. Muir to face the difficult decision between her ghostly companion and a flesh-and-blood suitor who offers a real future.  Tierney has never looked lovelier, at once strong and vulnerable, and even if Harrison’s “sea voice” takes a little getting used to, his charm more than makes up for it.  A gorgeous film with a truly romantic ending that will leave a smile on your face even as the tears roll.  Terrific score by Bernard Herrmann.  Watch for a young Natalie Wood as Muir’s daughter.

Ghost Galleon, The (1974)

When I first saw Tombs of the Blind Dead years ago, I was stunned by director Amando de Ossorio’s use of sound and imagery, not to mention conjuring up a pretty unique monster in the form of his eyeless Knights Templar.  Sadly, this third installment in the Blind Dead series comes off as a case of going to the well once too often.  When a mysterious ghost vessel appears on the waters during a publicity shoot, the bikini-clad models encounter the same old pokey Knights (without their trademark slow-motion horses) amidst lots and lots of fog.  Sadly, it takes half an hour for the blind beasties to show up, and nearly an hour before we see any blood spilled.  With the horrible acting and weaker storyline, you really need to be a BD fan for this one to float your boat.

Giant Claw, The (1957)

Look!  Up in the sky!  It’s a bird!  An enormous bird!  An enormous bird puppet from beyond the stars here to wreak havoc and hilarity upon anyone who crosses its path.  While a befuddled Jeff Morrow wonders where the hell it came from, and more importantly, what the hell happened to his career (“I was in This Island Earth, damn it!”), the nest-making pest swoops, lurches and screeches circles around his hapless human co-stars.  Morrow is forced to mutter claptrap about antimatter and alternate dimensions, while also wooing Tarantula star Mara Corday, she of the perfectly shaped eyebrows and pursed lips.  Despite the fact that it evokes more guffaws than goosebumps, credit must be given to the extraordinarily expressive monster bird, a hysterically spectacular and unforgettable creation.  After being doomed to obscurity for ages, this giant butterball emerges on DVD as part of legendary schlock producer Sam Katzman box set.  Combining both the big bug and menace-from-outer-space genres with verve, this ranks among the best of the worst.  Not to be missed.

Giant Spider Invasion, The (1975)

A sentimental favorite, being one of the first movies that I can remember seeing in the theater (in a double feature with Godzilla vs. Megalon).  Oh, its bad, no question about it, but watching director Bill Rebane pull out every trick in his book to not show the giant spider and yet knowing he has to at some points is a minor thrill.  Oh, this is a definite low water mark in “big bug” movies, but if you think about it as a homegrown indie project with no money, then maybe you can spare a little admiration for them working so gamely with what they had.  Plus, there’s a high goof factor with Alan Hale as the Sheriff and a pretty high sleaze factor all the way through, especially for a PG movie.

Girl’s School Screamers (1984)

Another lame slasher, exec-produced by Troma’s Lloyd Kaufman and Michael Herz, in which writer-producer-director John P. Finnegan injects haunted house elements to spice things up…without much success.  When a sketchy zillionaire dies and wills his entire art collection to the Trinity School for Girls, seven sweet young things are sent to the Welles Estate to catalog its extensive art collection.  To no genre fan’s surprise, their numbers eventually start dwindling, even though blood is not drawn until 50 minutes into the flick.  Once the heads start rolling, we are treated to pitchforks, meat cleavers, hooks, and a pretty good eye-gouge, but until then, we are forced to make due with tired séance scenes, flashbacks and painful performances (with the notable exception of Vera Gallagher’s nutsy nun), all underscored by John Hodian’s portentous music.  Pretty much a dud.

Ginger Snaps  (2000)

This sharp, blackly comic werewolf tale from Canada turns the old legend on its head, creating a metaphor for a young woman’s “change” at puberty, with the moon’s cinematic lycanthrope effects mirroring that of the menstrual cycle.  Karen Walton’s crackling, acid-tongued, often hilarious dialogue perfectly captures the cynical tone of two outcast teenage sisters with a morbid fascination with death.  When the eldest, Ginger (Katharine Isabelle), is attacked by a werewolf (in a harrowing, superbly shot sequence), the film proceeds to reflect her changing from girl to woman with her transformation from human to animal.  In a departure from most werewolf movies, her metamorphosis is unrelenting, with no reversion to normalcy with the morning sun.  Ginger continues to evolve daily while her sister Brigette (Emily Perkins) struggles relentlessly to find a cure.  As much a horror story about puberty (they refer to it as “the curse”) as lycanthropy, playing upon the sisters’ revulsion of bodies changing, excessive hair growth, budding sexuality, and all… that… blood.  Director John Fawcett skillfully integrates phenomenal use of sound and offscreen menace with splashy gore moments; while his sly, sleek camerawork prowls like an animal on the hunt.  Mimi Rogers is pure gold as the girls’ chipper, hungry-for-bonding soccer mom.  One minor quibble: Did they really need to deliver the unconvincing “money shot” transformation scene, especially one that fails to measure up to the far more successful scenes of offscreen violence and power of suggestion?  Still, this is a worthy addition to the list of great werewolf films, a select group indeed.

God Told Me To (1976)

Less manic and tongue in cheek than his other horror efforts, writer/director Larry Cohen’s gritty modern fable focuses on NYC cop Tony LoBianco investigating a spree of murders – each one committed by an individual who confides “God told me to” as justification for their acts.  A deeply spiritual man, LoBianco finds his faith buffeted by these irrational yet undeniably linked incidents, and as he digs deeper, he discovers that he himself could very well be an integral piece of the mystery.  Cohen’s story ultimately raises more questions than it answers – not always a bad thing – and when extraterrestrial abductions are introduced along with a cult of religious zealots, things start to come off the rails a bit.  But if you’re looking for a challenging piece of low-budget horror, you could do a lot worse.  Andy Kaufman has a small role as a police officer, and fans will also recognize genre regular Richard Lynch beneath his glowing robes.  While widely available on many “public domain” box sets, Blue Underground’s release provides the most complete version of the film, along with an engaging Cohen commentary.

Godzilla and Mothra: The Battle for Earth (1992)

With the Heisei Godzilla series (1984 – 1995) in full swing, Toho decided to resurrect another favorite kaiju eija following the success of Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah.  Basically a remake of 1964’s Godzilla vs. Mothra, the slim plot pits a petty thief and his ex-wife environmentalist against an evil industrialist to protect the discovery of a giant egg and two tiny singing women called “The Cosmos.”  The eggs hatches a giant webslinging caterpillar, while an “evil” version of the squirmy wormy, Battra, appears as well (we know it’s evil because it’s black and shoots purple lasers).  For no real good reason, Godzilla also shows up and the stage is set for a stomping good time in downtown Tokyo.  The Mothra/Battra f/x, especially in their flying incarnations, are pretty darn impressive and the three-way battle – complete with changing alliances – has plenty of sis-boom-bang for the fans.  Sadly, the Tri-Star folks have only provided the English-dubbed version for DVD, which makes the cardboard human characters that much more irritating.  What is with the ADR on these films?  Are the voice actors instructed to sound as loud and artificial as possible?  Personally, I don’t get it.

Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah (1991)

What could be better than the big G fighting off his time-honored three-headed dragon foe?  How about a plotline that involves time-traveling emissaries from the future seeking to avert the hydrogen bomb testing that spawned Godzilla in the first place?  One of the few in the series to actually address Ol’ Greenskin’s origins, the film posits that he/she/it was originally a Tyrannosaurus Rex (or a Godzillasaurus, your pick) discovered on the Pacific Isle of Lagos during WWII where it actually defended a Japanese garrison from invading American forces.  But, knowing the devastation to come (H-bomb test = Godzilla’s stomping of Tokyo in ’54), the Futurians convince Japanese officials to return to the past and remove the mighty lizard from the equation.  Of course, they might also have a few designs of their own; some that involve, oh I don’t know, world domination??  The story elements are solid sci-fi stuff and the monster appearances are plentiful and energetic, but the dialogue (or at least the English-dubbed version, the only option available on the Tri-Star DVD) starts off silly and just gets sillier.  Still, kaiju fans should enjoy this enormously.   And yes, only one more Godzilla movie to go...

Godzilla vs. Megalon  (1973)

A far cry from the anti-nuke statement that spawned the big green lizard’s origins, this entry in the long running series is the first aimed directly at kids.  And a direct hit it was, with twice the monster mashing and half the “plot” of other installments.  Throwing logic, physics, and caution to the winds, this immensely entertaining film pretends to be no more than it is and gives the audiences exactly what they expect.  The movie starts rolling with an underground nuclear test that so enrages the underwater race of the “Seatopians” that they unleash the giant cockroach-looking monster Megalon to destroy Tokyo.  In response, an inventor sends his recently completed flying robot Jet Jaguar (who bears more than a passing resemblance to Ultraman) to Monster Island to enlist the help of Godzilla.  The Seatopians bring in veteran bad-guy Gigan from outer space, and the remainder of the movie is an oversized wrestling match for the ages.  Granted, the dubbing is awful, the effects are cheesy, the human characters are inane, and logic is entirely absent (Jet Jaguar’s inexplicable ability to increase from human to monster size is explained as “He must have programmed himself.”  Whaaaat?).  However, by this stage in the Godzilla series (#13), it was time for a purely ribald roaring rumble, and writer/director Jun Funkuda delivers the goods, along with a couple good flying drop-kicks from our rubber-suited hero.

Gojira (aka Godzilla)  (1954)

Not yet the kid’s hero he was to become in future installments, the original incarnation of the giant fire-breathing lizard is a thinly disguised metaphor for atomic warfare, brilliantly shot in stark, atmospheric black-and-white.  When numerous Japanese ships are lost at sea, investigators discover a 400-foot prehistoric beast awakened from its slumber by H-bomb testing.  Soon, Godzilla (as the monster is dubbed from an old Japanese legend) is laying waste to the city of Tokyo while its inhabitants look on in horror.  While the effects are still a little creaky, and the towering lizard is obviously a guy in a suit, it still packs an emotional wallop, whether viewed as an anti-war statement or a stomping good monster-on-the-loose movie.  For its U.S. release as Godzilla, King of the Monsters, the film was dubbed, radically recut, politically sanitized, and heavily augmented with twenty minutes of new footage featuring Raymond Burr as an American newspaperman in Toyko.  (In 2004, a 50th-anniversary release restored the film to its original state with subtitles.)  Hugely popular throughout the world, the film spawned a legion of sequels and imitations, and made Toho the most successful studio in Japanese history.  Terrific musical score by Akira Ifukube.

Graduation Day (1981)

A title that seems to repeatedly pop up as an example of “one of the better slashers,” I was really hoping to enjoy this and was mighty disappointed.  After a high school track student is pushed to her limits and dies of a blood clot, the rest of the team starts getting bumped off in wild and wacky ways.   Cheap and sloppy with ridiculous plot twists, the only real pleasure to be found is watching sleazy track coach Christopher George attempt to outdo his quirky work in Pieces.  On the plus sides, the final reel does have a macabre surprise or two up its sleeve, there is an early appearance from perennial favorite Linnea “sure I’ll take my shirt off” Quigley, and the murderous offings provide both quantity and variety.  But you have to be a real fan of the subgenre – bringing along your lowest expectations, highest tolerance level and a set of earplugs for the rockin’ early 80s soundtrack – to pick up your diploma. 

Grindhouse (2007)

I had the good fortune to accompany Mssr. Kitley to the sneak preview screening of les freres terribles Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino’s two-fisted effort, and damned if I didn’t enjoy the hell out of myself. Planet Terror may be the most fun I’ve ever had at a Rodriguez flick, and that’s saying a lot for the man who gave us El Mariachi, From Dusk Til Dawn, and Sin City.  But I’m saying it.  I can’t imagine the horror fan that wouldn’t enjoy this, unless they have a private axe to grind.  This is big dumb fun of the highest order, with gore galore, sexy babes, cool cameos and outlandish action to spare.  By contrast, I think ‘Death Proof’ may be my least favorite Tarantino effort, but only because I felt like his penchant for rambling on about minutiae was completely out of place within the exploitation milieu.  In the grindhouse, plot and action rule the land.  No one really wants to listen to our quirky characters have a coffee clutch – we want to see them dealing with crazy shit in a straightforward manner.  Now, that said, the action scenes are outstanding – there are scenes with stuntwoman Zoe Bell (who plays herself) on the hood of a car that had my jaw among the jujubees on the theater floor – and the gore f/x are limited but nasty as hell.  The faux trailers are the icing on the cake, with Machete and Thanksgiving leading the pack.  One small request: Can we have a moratorium on Eli Roth cameos for a while?