Ever since Toho rebooted the Godzilla franchise back in 1984, it has become tradition to release each new Japanese film in December. This pre-Christmas scheduling would remain in effect until Shin Godzilla. Although the Big G eventually took a much-deserved break, after being ceremoniously killed off in Godzilla vs. Destoroyah, Toho didn’t feel the need to exit the tokusatsu train, or give up that December kaijū slot.
Quite the opposite, in fact. Ahead of the next Godzilla revival, another popular monster got its time to shine on the big screen. So, from ’96 to ’98, the most divine moth to ever exist, Mothra, starred in her own series of films.
Toho giving Mothra a trilogy, as opposed to Rodan or Mechagodzilla, was due to the monster’s enduring popularity. The 1992 film alone, Godzilla vs. Mothra, was one of the highest-grossing, not to mention well-received, entries from the Heisei era. So, it comes as no surprise that the direction and style of said film ultimately inspired the approach to these separate Mothra productions. Toho also took this as an opportunity to delve into fantasy, a genre the Godzilla franchise had only brushed up against in the past.
Unlike Godzilla, and ever since her 1961 debut, Mothra had been a paragon of good. That role didn’t change in the slightest in the Heisei chapter of Godzilla, or the subsequent Mothra films. Mothra was, with few exceptions, on the side of humanity. In addition, there was a high level of sentience associated with the mega moth that made her—or him, in some cases—more accessible as a character. Meanwhile, the bestial Godzilla was made more animal-like after spending a good part of the Shōwa period as Earth’s champion.
Pictured: Mothra in Rebirth of Mothra II.
The lack of military and political presences, along with a reduced focus on complex adult characters, urges this reintroduction to Mothra to rely on civilians to pad the time between battles. Various children, some more latchkey than others, are pushed into the spotlight. And often in tow are the kids’ confused parents, or other equally feckless grown-ups who have become embroiled in the monster mayhem. When that light dusting of adolescent pangs and family drama isn’t playing out on screen, though, the Mothra films take a rather unexplored path. Those tiny worshippers of Mothra have been granted their own personal affairs that are just as urgent as the overarching dilemmas.
Similar to the Shobijin, the Elias are two fairy priestesses who serve and aid Mothra. Lora (Sayaka Yamaguchi) and Moll (first played by Megumi Kobayashi, then by Misato Tate) are frequently seen riding their Fairy Mothra, acting as fight commentators, or chasing after Belvera (Aki Hano), their less benevolent sister. That third fairy strayed from good some time ago, has contempt for humankind, and cheers on the invading monsters. The feud doesn’t last long, though, as certain events cause the trio to come together. That change of heart is a foreseeable turn in the story, but bearing in mind how family and love are recurring themes in these films, it’s also crucial.
Retitled Rebirth of Mothra in international markets, so as to avoid confusion with the ‘61 outing, the first installment of the trilogy acted on the scant and scattered ecological themes found throughout the Godzilla series. Environmentalism is hard to miss in this opening entry, which behaves somewhat like the ‘90s animated message film, FernGully: The Last Rainforest. However, in lieu of an evil spirit as the embodiment of environmental degradation, we have what might be the most demonic-looking take on Ghidorah. That spectacular behemoth is then pitted against a team of heroes that comes in all shapes and sizes. From diminutive fae folks to the colossal namesake, this cast of characters never feels uniform in appearance. That sense of variety also allows the story to operate on different physical scales, much to the delight of anyone who enjoys shrunken adventures.
Pictured: Desghidorah in Rebirth of Mothra.
Deforestation is to blame for the latest monster crisis in Rebirth of Mothra, and because Godzilla doesn’t seem to exist in these stories, it is only Mothra who can put a stop to that reawakened, three-headed planet destroyer known as Desghidorah. As this film and its sequels demonstrate time after time, the initial fight between good and bad favors the latter, forcing Mothra to seek out power-ups before the world is totally done for. That formula would be recycled, and not remotely adjusted, for the remaining two films, although directors Okihiro Yoneda (Rebirth of Mothra I and III) and Kunio Miyoshi (Rebirth of Mothra II) made the most of it. Early on, it’s abundantly clear that this trilogy was shooting for style, as opposed to substance.
With Godzilla vs. Mothra having already introduced lasers into the mammoth moth’s arsenal, Yoneda’s opener didn’t seem all that strange for having the fluttering bug god shoot energy beams and perform mid-air finishers. These VFX-heavy scenes, plus Desghidorah’s nightmarish creature design, are the highlights in a fairly well-crafted kaijū film. The human subplots and story pacing, on the other hand, are unnoteworthy, even by Godzilla standards.
Rebirth of Mothra II (a.k.a. Mothra 2: The Great Undersea Battle) is a serviceable sequel that may appeal to fans of mythical civilizations and oceanic fantasies. The fabled Mu continent not only brings Mothra an aquatic upgrade, but the trilogy also premieres its only non-Ghidorah-based antagonist: the triphibian, pollution-devouring Dagahra. Indeed, the second Mothra echoes the eco-conscious concern from the previous film, but the allegory is about as effective as it was the first time around, seeing as how the kaijū action and a treasure-seeking expedition take precedence.
Pictured: Cretaceous Ghidorah in Rebirth of Mothra III
The third and final film, Rebirth of Mothra III (a.k.a. Mothra 3: Invasion of King Ghidorah), saw both the return of Yoneda as a director and Ghidorah as the enemy. Here, that iconic dragon better resembles its classic form, albeit bigger and badder than previous incarnations. This fan-favorite redesign of Godzilla’s archnemesis now looks more worthy of its “king” title. As for the monster’s reimagined origins, namely its craving for children’s life force, this new M.O. smells of fairytales. As a wicked witch would do, the golden kaijū traps youngsters with the full intention of consuming them later. It’s definitely bizarre, but perhaps less so than Mothra journeying back in time to defeat Cretaceous Ghidorah, so that its modern descendant is never born.
With 1990s cinema being a giant stage for advancements in special effects, naturally, Toho would want to show off everything new they had learned since the Shōwa days. Rebirth of Mothra inherited many of its tricks from preceding Godzilla films, but there was a greater emphasis on puppetry and scaling, and CGI made the more fantastical moments possible. Fans of miniatures will be a tad disappointed; as a whole, the three films limit their time in overpopulated cities. Nevertheless, there is always something to catch your attention, whether that be eye candy or an eyesore. If nothing else, the more crude effects, such as the unconvincing dinosaurs, will raise a good laugh.
Not even kaijū enthusiasts are fully prepared for every sudden development and odd turn in the Rebirth of Mothra films, but truly, that’s also the beauty of them. Those risks do everything to distinguish this series. If you can look beyond the rough edges and the youth pandering, you will discover a feast of absurd pleasures.
Pictured: Armor Mothra in Rebirth of Mothra III.
