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We’re Here, We’re Queer, and We Know Godzilla

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When consuming media, there is a common phenomenon that should be familiar to anyone who registers anywhere even remotely fun on the Kinsey scale. Two characters will share a glance, and a little flag is raised somewhere in the depths of your subconscious. That flag reads, “They’re totally gay for each other.”

That flag is usually incorrect, at least in terms of the canon of whatever film or TV show you’re watching. But it’ll ping again and again, maybe for Cas and Dean, Captain Marvel and Maria Rambeau, or even Dawson and Pacey. Typically, this stems from wishful thinking about queer people actually being represented onscreen.

However, in a sea of false flags, sometimes one can suss out the truth, even if that truth isn’t one that was necessarily apparent to a work’s creators themselves. Perhaps one of the key examples of this in cinema history is Godzilla vs. Megalon.

The Queer Subtext in Godzilla vs. Megalon

1973’s Godzilla vs. Megalon is an odd duck. Directed by Fukuda Jun, the 13th entry in the Godzilla franchise came smack dab in the middle of the period where the titular kaiju had fully transitioned from looming specter of nuclear war to kiddie matinee icon. It follows the underwater nation Seatopia sending the insectoid monster Megalon (Date Hideto) up to the surface to wreak havoc as revenge for nuclear testing in their waters.

Unprepared for such a threat despite nearly two decades of practice, humanity must turn to Godzilla (Tagaki Shinji) as their savior. However, Godzilla is busy and must be summoned by the alarmingly designed robot Jet Jaguar (Komada Tsugutoshi), who is basically what Ultraman would look like if he got too much Botox. He and Godzilla unite so the two of them can beat up Megalon and – for some reason – Gigan (Satsuma Kenpachiro), who is awesome and has a buzz saw for a tummy.

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The Human Element: Goro and Jinkawa’s Relationship

This is where our human element comes in. Jet Jaguar’s designer is electrical engineer Ibuki Goro (SasakiKatsuhiko), who lives with his kid brother Rokuro (Kawase Hiroyuki). They guide the robot and take down Seatopia’s minions with the help of rookie race car driver Jinkawa Hiroshi (Hayashi Yutaka). Hold on, what was that? Why is Jinkawa here again?

Analyzing Jinkawa’s Role

Sure, Jinkawa gets to show off his racing skills when the film leans on car chases to fill up the moments where the production couldn’t afford to include monster battles. But frankly, it doesn’t make that much sense for him to be joined at the hip with a roboticist and his brother. There is only one answer here.

A brief caveat: I have no access to insight into the filmmakers’ intentions here, nor do I pretend to have an in-depth knowledge of Japanese social masculinity of the early 1970s. That said? Goro and Jinkawa are totally gay for each other.

Clues to Their Relationship

Just like any film with gay subtext but no gay text, Godzilla vs. Megalon takes queer viewers on a roller coaster ride. Attempting to pick up on clues is the cinematic equivalent of picking off flower petals and chanting, “Are they gay? Are they not?”

For instance, Jinkawa doesn’t seem to live with Goro and Rokuro, but he never actually goes home at any point. Also, the closest physical intimacy they share is a handshake, but they do seem to be in the habit of going on private picnics with one another. Another wrench in the works is the fact that Jinkawa refers to Goro as “senpai,” an honorific that typically wouldn’t be reserved for one’s boyfriend. Still, it doesn’t entirely make sense if they were straight friends at that level of intimacy. Additionally, neither of them ever makes reference to or interacts with any woman (in fact, for all the evidence the movie provides, they don’t seem to be aware that women exist).

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Challenging Heteronormative Assumptions

Most of the argument against the gay subtext here can be obliterated by asking one question: what is gay text, anyway?

Film history is rooted in assumptions born from heteronormativity and the gender binary. Movies use shorthand all the time. That teen boy and girl having a picnic before the asteroid crash lands in the forest behind them? They’re probably together. That man and woman that spend all their time with that annoying child? They’re probably its parents. These things don’t need to be said, they can just be assumed. This avoids characters having to turn to one another and say something like, “Gee, you sure are my husband.”

Shorthand is perhaps even more necessary in a Godzilla film than any other. The human storylines will always take a backseat to Godzilla’s shenanigans, so there isn’t much time wasted on exposition. We only have tiny snippets of celluloid in which we can get to know these characters in between the mountains of dialogue where they explain to one another what Godzilla is doing. In fact, Jinkawa doesn’t even get a name until a third of the way through the film and Goro spends roughly 30% of his screen time unconscious.

Evidence of Goro and Jinkawa’s Bond

Anything we know about them, we necessarily have to glean from the way they are presented to us. And what is presented to us is pretty damn conclusive. Jinkawa has a level of comfort in Goro’s home and life that is more intimate than any physical act could be. Plus, they both take an equal part in parenting and protecting Rokuro (whose biological parents are never mentioned and nowhere to be found), to the point that they are almost interchangeable father figures. Rokuro will find himself climbing Jinkawa’s shoulders or going to town with him just as much as he does with his blood sibling.

The closeness that Rokuro and Jinkawa share also belie that Jinkawa has a long history of spending time with this family outside of the Megalon-related events that draw them together in this 81-minute chunk of their lives.

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A Queer Reading of Godzilla vs. Megalon

Really, the only thing preventing anyone from assuming they’re gay from frame one is the fact that movies like this don’t typically have gay characters. Whether or not Goro and Jinkawa were ever meant to be a gay couple, the simple fact is that they are. Godzilla vs. Megalon tells us that they are in the same way that any movie designed for kids would tell us a cisgender heterosexual pairing are a couple. It’s as simple as that.

Brennan Klein is a millennial who knows way more about 80's slasher movies than he has any right to. He's a former host of the  Attack of the Queerwolf podcast and a current senior movie/TV news writer at Screen Rant. You can also find his full-length movie reviews on Alternate Ending and his personal blog Popcorn Culture. Follow him on Twitter or Letterboxd, if you feel like it.

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‘The Woman in Black’ Remake Is Better Than The Original

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As a horror fan, I tend to think about remakes a lot. Not why they are made, necessarily. That answer is pretty clear: money. But something closer to “if they have to be made, how can they be made well?” It’s rare to find a remake that is generally considered to be better than the original. However, there are plenty that have been deemed to be valuable in a different way. You can find these in basically all subgenres. Sci-fi, for instance (The Thing, The Blob). Zombies (Dawn of the Dead, Evil Dead). Even slashers (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, My Bloody Valentine). However, when it comes to haunted house remakes, only The Woman in Black truly stands out, and it is shockingly underrated. Even more intriguingly, it is demonstrably better than the original movie.

The Original Haunted House Movie Is Almost Always Better

Now please note, I’m specifically talking about movies with haunted houses, rather than ghost movies in general. We wouldn’t want to be bringing The Ring into this conversation. That’s not fair to anyone.

Plenty of haunted house movies are minted classics, and as such, the subgenre has gotten its fair share of remakes. These are, almost unilaterally, some of the most-panned movies in a format that attracts bad reviews like honey attracts flies.

You’ve got 2005’s The Amityville Horror (a CGI-heavy slog briefly buoyed by a shirtless, possessed Ryan Reynolds). That same year’s Dark Water (one of many inert remakes of Asian horror films to come from that era). 1999’s The House on Haunted Hill (a manic, incoherent effort that millennial nostalgia has perhaps been too kind to). That same year there was The Haunting (a manic, incoherent effort that didn’t even earn nostalgia in the first place). And 2015’s Poltergeist (Remember this movie? Don’t you wish you didn’t?). And while I could accept arguments about 2001’s THIR13EN Ghosts, it’s hard to compete with a William Castle classic.

The Problem with Haunted House Remakes

Generally, I think haunted house remakes fail so often because of remakes’ compulsive obsession with updating the material. They throw in state-of-the-art special effects, the hottest stars of the era, and big set piece action sequences. Like, did House on Haunted Hill need to open with that weird roller coaster scene? Of course it didn’t.

However, when it comes to haunted house movies, bigger does not always mean better. They tend to be at their best when they are about ordinary people experiencing heightened versions of normal domestic fears. Bumps in the night, unexplained shadows, and the like. Maybe even some glowing eyes or a floating child. That’s all fine and dandy. But once you have a giant stone lion decapitating Owen Wilson, things have perhaps gone a bit off the rails.

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The One Big Exception is The Woman in Black

The one undeniable exception to the haunted house remake rule is 2012’s The Woman in Black. If we want to split hairs, it’s technically the second adaptation of the Susan Hill novel of the same name. But The Haunting was technically a Shirley Jackson re-adaptation, and that still counts as a remake, so this does too.

The novel follows a young solicitor being haunted when handling a client’s estate at the secluded Eel Marsh House. The property was first adapted into a 1989 TV movie starring Adrian Rawlings, and it was ripe for a remake. In spite of having at least one majorly eerie scene, the 1989 movie is in fact too simple and small-scale. It is too invested in the humdrum realities of country life to have much time to be scary. Plus, it boasts a small screen budget and a distinctly “British television” sense of production design. Eel Marsh basically looks like any old English house, with whitewashed walls and a bland exterior.

Therefore, the “bigger is better” mentality of horror remakes took The Woman in Black to the exact level it needed.

The Woman in Black 2012 Makes Some Great Choices

2012’s The Woman in Black deserves an enormous amount of credit for carrying the remake mantle superbly well. By following a more sedate original, it reaches the exact pitch it needs in order to craft a perfect haunted house story. Most appropriately, the design of Eel Marsh House and its environs are gloriously excessive. While they don’t stretch the bounds of reality into sheer impossibility, they completely turn the original movie on its head.

Eel Marsh is now, as it should be, a decaying, rambling pile where every corner might hide deadly secrets. It’d be scary even if there wasn’t a ghost inside it, if only because it might contain copious black mold. Then you add the marshy grounds choked in horror movie fog. And then there’s the winding, muddy road that gets lost in the tide and feels downright purgatorial. Finally, you have a proper damn setting for a haunted house movie that plumbs the wicked secrets of the wealthy.

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Why The Woman in Black Remake Is an Underrated Horror Gem

While 2012’s The Woman in Black is certainly underrated as a remake, I think it is even more underrated as a haunted house movie. For one thing, it is one of the best examples of the pre-Conjuring jump-scare horror movie done right. And if you’ve read my work for any amount of time, you know how positively I feel about jump scares. The Woman in Black offers a delectable combo platter of shocks designed to keep you on your toes. For example, there are plenty of patient shots that wait for you to notice the creepy thing in the background. But there are also a number of short sharp shocks that remain tremendously effective.

That is not to say that the movie is perfect. They did slightly overstep with their “bigger is better” move to cast Daniel Radcliffe in the lead role. It was a big swing making his first post-Potter role that of a single father with a four-year-old kid. It’s a bit much to have asked 2012 audiences to swallow, though it reads slightly better so many years later.

However, despite its flaws, The Woman in Black remake is demonstrably better than the original. In nearly every conceivable way. It’s pure Hammer Films confection, as opposed to a television drama without an ounce of oomph.

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Is ‘Scream 2’ Still the Worst of the Series?

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There are only so many times I can get away with burying the lede with an editorial headline before someone throws a rock at me. It may or may not be justified when they do. This article is not an attempt at ragebaiting Scream fans, I promise. Neither was my Scream 3 article, which I’m still completely right about.

I do firmly believe that Scream 2 is, at the very least, the last Scream film I’d want to watch. But what was initially just me complaining about a film that I disregard as the weakest entry in its series has since developed into trying to address what it does right. You’ve heard of the expression “jack of all trades, master of none”, and to me Scream 2 really was the jack of all trades of the franchise for the longest time.

It technically has everything a Scream movie needs. Its opening is great, but it’s not the best of them by a long shot. Its killers are unexpected, but not particularly interesting, feeling flat and one-dimensional compared to the others. It has kills, but only a few of them are particularly shocking or well executed. It pokes fun at the genre but doesn’t say anything particularly bold in terms of commentary. Having everything a Scream movie needs is the bare minimum to me.

But the question is, what does Scream 2 do best exactly? Finding that answer involves highlighting what each of the other sequels are great at, and trying to pick out what Scream 2 has that the others don’t.

Scream 3 Is the Big Finale That Utilizes Its Setting Perfectly

Scream as a series handily dodges the trap most horror franchises fall into: rehashing and retreading the same territory over and over. That’s because every one of its films are in essence trying to do something a little different and a little bolder.

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Scream 3 is especially bold because it was conceived, written, and executed as the final installment in the Scream series. And it does that incredibly well. Taking the action away from a locale similar to Woodsboro, Scream 3 tosses our characters into the frying pan of a Hollywood film production. Despite its notorious number of rewrites and script changes (one of which resulted in our first solo Ghostface), it still manages to be a perfect culmination of Sidney Prescott’s story.

I won’t repeat myself too much (go read my previous article on the subject), but 3 is often maligned for as good a film as it turned out to be. And for all of its clunkier reveals, and its ghost mom antics, it understands how to utilize its setting and send its characters off into the sunset right.

Scream 4’s Meta Commentary Wakes Scream from a Deep Sleep

As Wes Craven’s final film, Scream 4 has a very special place in the franchise. It was and still is largely adored for bringing back the franchise from a deep 11-year sleep. With one of the craziest openings in any horror film, let alone a Scream film, it sets the tone for a bombastic return and pays off in spades with the journey it takes us on.

Its primary Ghostface Jill Roberts is a fan favorite, and for some people, she is the best to ever wear the mask. Its script is the source of many memorable moments, not the least of which is Kirby’s iconic rapid-fire response to the horror remakes question. And most importantly, it makes a bold and surprisingly effective return for our main trio of Sidney, Dewey, and Gale, whose return didn’t feel trite or hammy when they ended up coming back to Woodsboro for more.

Craven’s work on 4 truly understands the power its predecessors had exerted on the horror genre, both irreverent in its metacommentary and celebratory of the Scream series as a whole. The film is less of a love letter to the genre and more of a kicking down of the door to remind people what Scream is about. 4’s story re-established that Scream isn’t going away, no matter how long it takes for another film, and no matter how many franchises try to take its place.

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Scream 5 & 6 Is Radio Silence’s Brutal and Bloody Attitude Era

Put simply, Scream 5 and 6’s strong suit was not its characters. It was not its clever writing. The Radio Silence duology in the Scream series excelled in one thing: beating the hell out of its characters.

Wrestling fans (of which there is an unsurprising amount of crossover with horror fans) will know why I call it the Attitude Era. Just like WWE’s most infamous stretch of history, Radio Silence brought something especially aggressive to their entries. And it’s because these films were just brutal. Handing the reins to the series, Bettinelli-Olpin and Gillet gifted a special kineticism to the classic Scream chase sequences, insane finales, and especially its ruthless killers.

All five of the Ghostfaces present in 5 and 6 are the definition of nasty. They’re unrelenting, and in my humble opinion, the freakiest since the original duo of Stu Macher and Billy Loomis. Getting to hear all the air get sucked out of the room as Dewey is gutted like a fish in 5 was still an incredible moment to experience in theatres, and it’s something I don’t think would have happened if the films were any less mean and any less explosively violent.

So, What Does Scream 2 Do Best Exactly?

So now, after looking at all these entries and all of their greatest qualities, what does Scream 2 have that none of the others do? What must I concede to Scream 2?

Really great character development.

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Film is a medium of spectacle most of the time, and this is reflected in how we critique and compliment them. It affects how we look back on them, sometimes treating them more harshly than they deserve because they don’t have that visual flash. But for every ounce of spectacle Scream 2 lacks, I have to admit, it does an incredible job of developing Sidney Prescott as a character.

On a rare rewatch, it’s clear Neve Campbell is carrying the entirety of Scream 2 on her back just because of how compelling she makes Sidney. Watching her slowly fight against a tide of paranoia, fear, and distrust of the people around her once more, watching her be plunged back into the nightmare, is undeniably effective.

It’s also where Dewey and Gale are really cemented as a couple, and where the seeds of them always returning to each other are planted. Going from a mutual simmering disrespect to an affectionate couple to inseparable but awkward and in love is just classic; two people who complete each other in how different they are, but are inevitably pulled back and forth by those differences, their bond is one of the major highlights throughout the series.

Maybe All the Scream Films Are Just Good?

These three characters are the heart of the series, long after they’ve been written out. I talk a big game about how Scream 3 is the perfect ending for the franchise, but I like to gloss over the fact that Scream 2 does a lot of the legwork when it comes to developing the characters of Dewey, Gale, and especially Sidney.

Without 2, 3 just isn’t that effective when it comes to giving Sidney her long deserved peace. Without 2, the way we see Sidney’s return in 4 & 5 doesn’t hit as hard. All of the Scream movies owe something to Scream 2 in the same way they owe something to the original Scream. I think I’ve come to a new point of view when it comes to the Scream franchise: maybe there is no bad entry. Maybe none of them have to be the worst. Each one interlinks with the others in their own unique way.

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And even though I doubt I will ever really love Scream 2, it has an undeniable strength in its character writing that permeates throughout the whole franchise. And that at the very least keeps it from being the worst Scream film.

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