Film theorists postulating that giant movie monsters serve as figurative representations of the destructive force of female emancipation post-WWII will assuredly have a good chuckle with Ishiro Honda's Mothra, one of the most sturdy, well-crafted, and enjoyable of the Godzilla brethren. A reworking of the King Kong colonial island theft story, Mothra distinguishes itself from most of its contemporaries by pouring the satirical subtext on hard, while still delivering its fair share of trashy large-scale property destruction.
Like many of the Honda flicks, Mothra starts slow, but compensates with its better than average script and (human) cast to sell it, thunderously debating the ethics of abducting a pair of adorably polite tiny island sprites to use as singing sideshow fairies (a subplot sold well by the enjoyable despicable Jerry Ito). But, once their songs are revealed as prayers to their island deity, the fun really starts. Although Godzilla has been variously theorized as a force of nature beyond morality (at least until the 2014 American abomination), the matriarchal Mothra is the first explicit example of the monster-as-protector trope, lending an intriguingly layer of moral vindication to her subsequent swathe of mayhem.
Mothra herself looks incredible, and the intricacy of her character design makes her eerily captivating to watch. Whether lurching across the ocean as a steadfast larval juggernaut, or fluttering about the city, she's a devastatingly beautiful maelstrom of destruction. Similarly, Honda makes ingenious use of innovative sound editing, with the Islander twins' eerie electric organ speech and Mothra's chirping lending the film a fantastically eerie feel.
Here, Mothra's target is not only Tokyo, but the fictional nation of Rolisica (any similarities to any existing United Sta-er, countries is purely coincidental). The symbolism - Mothra is born in Japan only to wreak havoc on the US-ahem-I-mean- Rolisica - is almost as fun as the destruction itself as the destruction itself (extensive miniatures work which is impressive, if not convincing), and Honda takes evident glee in having non-Japanese flee in terror for once. The film's veering into religious iconography in its climax is initially a bit jarring, but retroactively makes sense, juxtaposed with the Islanders' own totemic worship, and even the antagonist's worship of money.
Regardless, Mothra being a comparatively peaceful monster allows for about as happy an ending as the genre is likely to ever permit (complete with punchline and literal laugh track). As such, for being what it is - a campy, relatively silly kaiju escapade - Mothra's tongue-in-cheek sociopolitical subtext and comparatively sturdy storytelling, along with its genuinely spectacular character design, affirm it as a hugely fun, abiding genre classic.
-7/10
Like many of the Honda flicks, Mothra starts slow, but compensates with its better than average script and (human) cast to sell it, thunderously debating the ethics of abducting a pair of adorably polite tiny island sprites to use as singing sideshow fairies (a subplot sold well by the enjoyable despicable Jerry Ito). But, once their songs are revealed as prayers to their island deity, the fun really starts. Although Godzilla has been variously theorized as a force of nature beyond morality (at least until the 2014 American abomination), the matriarchal Mothra is the first explicit example of the monster-as-protector trope, lending an intriguingly layer of moral vindication to her subsequent swathe of mayhem.
Mothra herself looks incredible, and the intricacy of her character design makes her eerily captivating to watch. Whether lurching across the ocean as a steadfast larval juggernaut, or fluttering about the city, she's a devastatingly beautiful maelstrom of destruction. Similarly, Honda makes ingenious use of innovative sound editing, with the Islander twins' eerie electric organ speech and Mothra's chirping lending the film a fantastically eerie feel.
Here, Mothra's target is not only Tokyo, but the fictional nation of Rolisica (any similarities to any existing United Sta-er, countries is purely coincidental). The symbolism - Mothra is born in Japan only to wreak havoc on the US-ahem-I-mean- Rolisica - is almost as fun as the destruction itself as the destruction itself (extensive miniatures work which is impressive, if not convincing), and Honda takes evident glee in having non-Japanese flee in terror for once. The film's veering into religious iconography in its climax is initially a bit jarring, but retroactively makes sense, juxtaposed with the Islanders' own totemic worship, and even the antagonist's worship of money.
Regardless, Mothra being a comparatively peaceful monster allows for about as happy an ending as the genre is likely to ever permit (complete with punchline and literal laugh track). As such, for being what it is - a campy, relatively silly kaiju escapade - Mothra's tongue-in-cheek sociopolitical subtext and comparatively sturdy storytelling, along with its genuinely spectacular character design, affirm it as a hugely fun, abiding genre classic.
-7/10