Review
GODZILLA
Mob Hit Productions
Starring Meredith Bailey, Dan Perrott, Scott Roberts and Mike Tan
Written by Yasuhiko Ohashi
Translated by M. Cody Poulton
Directed by Lawrence Leong
Runs until May 15
Vertigo Studio (Tower Centre)
Over the years, Godzilla, Japanese cinema’s über-monster, has withstood thrashings from such mighty foes as Mothra and King Kong. But a culturally specific script and a lack of strong performances are what finally defeat Mob Hit Productions’ Godzilla.
Yasuhiko Ohashi’s 1987 comic fantasy, in which the giant lizard finds love with a sweet little Japanese girl, is funny, clever, even romantic, but its humour springs largely from a send-up of Japanese tradition and pop culture (especially the country’s fecund sci-fi monster-movie genre) that Calgary audiences may not appreciate, and the script is peppered with topical (circa 1987) and local references that many viewers will likely miss. To at least capture the flavour of the original, it requires the kind of vibrant comic acting that can overcome cultural barriers.
Mob Hit’s cast of students and young professionals – all but one of them Caucasian – for the most part make a good effort, but neither they nor director Lawrence Leong are able to convey the madcap zest of Ohashi’s writing. There are times when this Godzilla could have as easily borrowed another film title – Lost in Translation.
Ohashi’s play has a great screwball premise: a naïve young woman (Yayoi, played by Meredith Bailey) falls for the ultimate bad boy, Toho studios’ rampaging reptile, and brings him home to meet the folks. Needless to say, Yayoi’s middle-class parents (Mike Tan, Brittney Brownsberger) are disappointed – they were hoping their oldest daughter would snag a Tokyo University grad – not to mention, scared out of their wits. Their attempts to convince the odd couple of the impossibility of an interspecies relationship are made while dodging Godzilla’s blowtorch breath and trying not to get stomped on.
Adding to the madness are Yayoi’s sassy twin kid sisters (Liz McMullen, Ashley Humphreys) – a kind of Asian Mary-Kate and Ashley – as well as Yayoi’s childhood sweetheart (Scott Roberts), a renegade cop who still carries a torch for her, and one of those in-your-face Japanese TV reporters (Tasha Weenk) with accompanying cameraman (Ryan Beck), who has barged into the family’s home to provide breathless live coverage. Only Yayoi’s grandmother (Alison Lewis), a formidable matriarch, is sympathetic to the lovers’ situation. She, too, enjoyed a flirtation with bestiality in her younger days, having lost her heart to a tadpole.
Ohashi mixes his monster-movie parody with satire, poking fun at the dilemmas of a family torn between ritualistic tradition and a changing society. Yet, in classic Japanese style, there are also delicate touches of the lyrical and poignant, with the pure-hearted Yayoi and her unlikely boyfriend tenderly courting on a volcano and then, later, facing the kind of resistance known to every pair of star-crossed lovers since Romeo and Juliet.
Bailey’s fresh-faced Yayoi shines with innocent idealism, but this beauty is let down by her beast. Ohashi’s script insists that Godzilla be played by an actor, sans rubber suit, and Leong and performer Dan Perrott have envisioned him as a scruffy dude with green-tinted hair and reptile tattoos – no more monstrous than your average skater boy. It allows for some initial laughs, as the cast react to him as if he were a towering, terrifying behemoth, but Perrott underplays the part to the point where he barely makes any impression at all.
Ohashi’s characters are admittedly cartoons, but few of the actors venture beyond one-note performances. Lewis is an exception as the salty-tongued grandmother. Although too young for the role, she tackles it gamely with oodles of aggressive energy. Tan (the lone Asian actor) is the other standout as the put-upon paterfamilias, reacting with a hilariously expressive face that belongs in a real Godzilla film. As the other big monster in the show, Rob Ullett turns the thread-spewing Mothra into a cigar-toting cocoon salesman with the cadences of an old Jewish comedian – an idea that could be funny if he didn’t play the role so half-heartedly.
The multimedia production includes a live video feed for the TV coverage, visual effects for the climactic showdown between Godzilla and Roberts’s die-hard ex-boyfriend (transformed into superhero Ultraman) and even an opening-credits montage. The images are projected on a fractured screen above a horseshoe stage (set designed by J. James Andrews) in the new Vertigo Studio, and audience members are invited to sit on cushions on the matted floor between the stage’s two projecting ramps for a more intimate view. But Leong’s direction doesn’t take much advantage of this thrust configuration and most of the action remains upstage.
Clearly a lot of work has been put into this show, from Andrews’s lighting (which turns the stage a glowing red whenever Godzilla coughs up a fireball) to Travis Nadeau’s video and Mike Johnson’s variegated sound design – all impressive for a company working on a rice-paper-thin budget. But unlike a monster flick, Ohashi’s play relies less on technical prowess than it does on good, old-fashioned acting. And that’s where this Godzilla hits the mat. |
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