Daimajin represents something truly unique and original in the annals of cinema: the fusion of those two most quintessentially Japanese genres, the samurai period piece and the daikaiju eiga, or giant monster movie. More surprising than the juxtaposing of these two genres is that the film actually works quite well as an example of both.
For most of the runtime the movie belongs firmly in the first category, as it tells the story of a feudal lord violently overthrown by his scheming chamberlain Samanosuke, his children's flight with their bodyguard, Kogenta, and their exile to the top of a nearby mountain said to hold an evil spirit, or Majin, sealed inside by an imposing statue of a god. Ten years quickly pass as the children grow into adults and the new lord cruelly exploits his unwilling subjects.
When this finally becomes too much for the young prince to stand any longer, he and Kogenta begin preparations to start a rebellion and overthrow the evil Samanosuke. Sadly, their plan goes badly from the start, and both are soon captured, leaving the princess with no allies and no way of rescuing our heroes- except for prayers to the angry god within the mountain.
Alright, the story is rather broad and predictably, but also quite compelling for all the care and skill with which it's told. The prince is as naive and cocky as they come, but in a relatable way. Kogenta serves well as the dashing, slightly grim hero. And the princess is so beautiful, serene, and utterly selfless that you can't help but sympathize with her plight. The imposing Gomi Ryutaro makes an even stronger impression as the villainous Samanosuke, leering and hamming it up not quite to the point of cartoonishness, but enough that we really want to see him get what's coming to him.
Moreover, the production values and filmmaking techniques are excellent throughout. This movie is filled with impressive sets and beautifully colorful and ornate costumes. There are well staged sword fights and impressive effects sequences, well before we get to the giant monster action. And the filmmakers have a real way with lighting and composition. When the priestess of the mountain god confronts Samanosuke, the scene is arranged simply, but is incredibly striking and dreamlike in the sharp contrasts between the characters and the surrounding shadows. The open scene in which dancers perform a sealing ritual against the Majin is equally dreamlike and rather unnerving as the dancers twirl around one another in their garish masks and costumes, flaming staffs held aloft. The effect is reminiscent of the fire festival from Hidden Fortress, only with more foreboding.
So this would be an above average entry in the samurai genre even if it didn't have a giant monster. But that's exactly what we get in the final act, when the evil Majin indwells the statue and proceeds to lay waste to the evil lord and his fortress. And this is when Daimajin truly comes into its own. The effects that bring the monster to life aren't just good, they're outstanding for the time, easily on par with Toho's best. The heavy, ponderous motions are exactly those you would expect from a statue come to life, yet filled with an unmistakable anger, while the consistent use of low angle shots give it an imposing stature well beyond its already impressive size. More impressive, the rear projection and other process shots are so good that the statue legitimately looks like it's in the same shot as the men it's fighting.
Nor is it just the monster that's impressive. Throughout the entire sequence the blood red sky and howling winds and clouds of dust straight from a Kurosawa production give it an even more ominous feel, as if the world itself is coming to an end, while a dramatic score by Godzilla regular Akira Ifukube lends it even greater tension. And when the monstrous god finally takes its vengeance on Samanosuke, the results are supremely satisfying.
If this film has a real fault, it's that it is, at its heart, an old fashion morality play, and a somewhat predictable and heavy handed one at that. The story of the the tyrant oppressing the people, ignoring repeated warnings to repent, and receiving punishment from the gods could just as easily have been written in ancient Greece. And if the wrathful god's presence wasn't so keenly felt and frequently mentioned through the movie the ending would feel like one hell of a deus ex machina.
But as it is, every part of the film is so well crafted, and the disparate elements combined in just such a way that it works wonderfully and stands as one of the greater achievements of Japanese cinema of the period. It's a real shame that this film and its sequels have remained so obscure outside Japan.
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