By Rick Mosher
The two men are Haruo Nakajima and Kenpachiro Satsuma, actors famous–in some circles–for their ability to convey both triumph and heartbreak from within the confines of a bulky rubber suit. Godzilla, the scaly, fire-breathing monster awakened by a Pacific H-bomb test, appeared in a seemingly endless string of formulaic films beginning with the Japanese release Gojira in 1954. Gojira was released in America two years later–with added footage featuring Raymond Burr, no less–as Godzilla, King of the Monsters, and the sequel parade was soon off and running. In every, or nearly every, film the destructive thunder-lizard squares off against one or more representatives from a stable of gigantic villains that would stretch the imagination of a ten-year-old. Casual observers are forgiven for not knowing the names of Godzilla’s opponents, but there are no casual observers here: this is the third annual meeting of the Godzilla Society of North America, and everyone here is a hard-core “G-fan.” The faces of Gamera, the giant jet-propelled turtle, and Mothra, the giant bloodthirsty moth, are as familiar as mom and dad’s.
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Two kids hustle by, clutching monsters. “Which one did you get?” one asks. “I dunno,” says the other, breathless. “I mighta got–um–whatsisname!” At the video table, the man with the wrist thing is watching the monitor and discussing villains with a longhaired guy from Pittsburgh. “He was the first one to chop. This guy likes to break things off you and stick them back into your body.” In the big room, the crowd is listening attentively to another response in Japanese, seemingly oblivious to the translator waiting patiently nearby. Love is in the air.
