Mothra (1961)

Mothra (1961)

Dir. Ishirō Honda

The début film for Toho's other famous kaijū begins with a typhoon in the Pacific. It forces a ship's crew to seek refuge on Infant Island, a place believed to be radioactive.

A return expedition to that same location uncovers something wondrous, which the less moral members of humanity typically disrupt, enslave and exploit. Their selfish actions bring an island god incarnate to their door.

Not inherently evil — in fact, with intentions that are objectively honourable — Mothra nevertheless brings death and destruction to much of Tokyo, with a force that's interestingly similar to the one that wrecked the sailors' ship at the film's beginning.

Action scenes are typical of kaijū films of the era. The miniature buildings are great, but what really stands out on repeat viewings are the exotic flora and Polynesian-esque culture.

Francis of Assisi (1961)

Francis of Assisi (1961)

Dir. Michael Curtiz

Francis Bernardone is remembered for a great many things by scholars and Christians, but to the average person he's known mostly as the religious figure who preached the gospel to birds, and persuaded a wolf to stop attacking people.

The film acknowledges his patronage of animals, but it's more concerned with his transformation from a privileged silk-merchant's son to a man penniless but infinitely rich in spiritual matters.

The journey from one state of being to the other is treated with respect, but the acting is so often devoid of any kind of passion that it can feel like watching a rehearsal, not an actual final take.

It proffers a romantic view of poverty, with the suggestion that it brings one closer to the godhead.

While outside of the movies poverty more often tends to lead to sickness and death, it's an inspiring notion, which may serve to remind those obsessed with material wealth that happiness need not be reliant on having a fat bank balance.

Yojimbo (1961)

Yojimbo (1961)

Dir. Akira Kurosawa

Toshirô Mifune stars as the titular yojimbo (bodyguard), a rōnin (masterless samurai) who's feeling the economic pinch of the era in Akira Kurosawa's much-imitated jidaigeki.

The character positions himself between two rival bosses, one at each end of a small town, and cautiously but skilfully outmanoeuvres them both. He knows that being in the middle is a dangerous place to be, but it offers him the best possible view of both sides.

One of the film's greatest strengths is its straightforward delivery. For both director and actor actions are more important than words, while the old man that shelters the rōnin (Eijirō Tōno) provides backstory for the viewer, followed by the yojimbo advancing the plot as and when the story needs it.

In contrast, Mifune's role is multifaceted, and yet he somehow makes it seem as effortless as his character's manipulation of the antagonists.

Roger Corman / Edgar Allan Poe (1960-65)

The Fall of the House of Usher (1960)
Dir. Roger Corman

The first of seven Roger Corman films that claim to be based on the works of American author Edgar Allan Poe relies heavily on the deep, rich textures of Vincent Price. The dialogue he's given only occasionally sounds like it came from Poe's own mind, but the hinge on madness — the deranged grip of nervous agitation that many of his protagonists find themselves inexorably in — is firmly in place, the crumbling house reflective of the Ushers' state of mind.

It invents a new character and does away with an original one, while the shift to third person robbed it of a potentially weighty V/O, but it's something that I've come to accept.

The paintings hanging in the halls are atypical of the era, but they’re amazing, nonetheless.