Photos from the Tokyo Grand Guignol stage play Galatia Teito Monogatari, based loosely on the Teito Monogatari serial of epic dark sci fi occult horror books. Despite sharing its basis with a greatly influential series which spawned several films (the first Teito Monogatari adaption even featuring special effects designed by H.R. Giger) and a set of animated horror films, Galatia remains the most obscure of the Tokyo Grand Guignol’s productions. Very sparse information of its contents exist online. On one specific page I found a month back, a (very poorly translated) English synopsis describes the play as being a story about a machine that destroys a major city in Japan. It’s unclear if the machine they’re referring to is in reference to a humanoid robot or a more generalized weapon. It’s said that in the play, Kyusaku Shimada appears as a mad scientist who creates the oxygen destroyer from Godzilla (1954). In a description of the ending, the finale depicts a scenario where the character Yasunori Katō (a demon that manifests itself as an imperial army First Lieutenant) welcomes one of the characters to what he refers to as the “new imperial city”. He reveals to the character a supernatural landscape where various children’s toys and dolls across the stage come to life and move around on their own, all to the sounds of marching drums and claps of thunder. All images were digitized by yours truly, with the sources being volume 28 of Yaso magazine and the Suehiro Maruo-focused magazine Only You, which features a digest version of Galatia’s screenplay. Of course, with the screenplay (or at least a condensed version of it) in my possession, I plan to translate it to English some way or another down the line.
This adaption would help start off Shimada’s professional acting career, with Shimada having his first major cinematic role as Yasunori Katō in the film Tokyo: The Last Megalopolis. As mentioned though, Shimada doesn’t act as Katō in the Tokyo Grand Guignol version. That role was instead designated to Yaguruma Kennosuke, who would later appear as Raizou in the original performances of Lychee Hikari Club.
Yaguruma Kennosuke as Raizou in Lychee's December 1985 performance, apprehending the Marquis de Maruo (performed by Suehiro Maruo) when he enters the Hikari Club's hideout. Kennosuke is on the right side of Maruo, with Hiroyuki Tsunekawa (Zera) standing aside Kennosuke with his bag of lychee fruits.
As a side note, you've gotta appreciate how despite then being well into a Maruo-flavored era of underground culture, there are still the occasional callbacks to Terayama's legacy, hence the clock that Katō is seen holding in the first photo.
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Recently Viewed - Tokyo: The Last Megalopolis
Above all else, Tokyo: The Last Megalopolis is a triumph of production design. From the intricately detailed miniature models and matte paintings to the elaborate costumes and soundstages to the charming Harryhausen-inspired stop-motion creature effects, every cent of the enormous budget is clearly evident. Hell, even the lighting—the radiant shimmer of sunlight reflecting off the surface of turbulent water, the eerie pale glow of the full moon peering through a blanket of dry ice clouds, the ominous neon glare of supernatural power—is absolutely immaculate.
The film’s spectacular imagery perfectly matches its themes, which revolve around the conflict between tradition and modernization. At the dawn of the twentieth century, Japan’s cultural leaders have become increasingly obsessed with urban redevelopment as a means of competing on the world stage. Rich industrialists, for example, propose the erection of towering skyscrapers that rival the gods in stature—ostentatious symbols of material wealth (as well as hubris, considering the country’s frequent earthquakes). Nationalistic, xenophobic militarists, on the other hand, argue for “practicality” over hollow aesthetics—borders, walls, and fortifications have far more strategic value than gaudy architecture. Scientists, meanwhile, prefer technological advancement to politics and commerce, embracing the logistical challenges of constructing a vast subterranean railway system. Those attuned to spiritual matters—monks, mediums, practitioners of geomancy—urge these various parties to exercise caution and moderation in their pursuit of the “future,” warning that such unrestrained expansion risks irrevocably tarnishing the sanctity of the land, thus provoking the wrath of ancestral ghosts and guardian deities. “Progress,” after all, can be a destructive force; occasionally, building something new requires burning down the old. These concerns, however, are dismissed as invalid and irrelevant—as obsolete as magic and mysticism in the era of automobiles, engineering, and electricity.
Despite this compelling premise, the plot is rather jumbled, disjointed, and unfocused. Among the sprawling (and bloated) ensemble cast, no single character ever really emerges as a true “protagonist”; vaguely sketched archetypes are introduced rapidly and vanish just as abruptly, only to reappear at seemingly random intervals. In terms of personality and motivation, they’re nearly indistinguishable; consequently, the audience has little opportunity to form a proper relationship with them. Basically, they’re merely props, existing for the sole purpose of communicating exposition and propelling the story from one set piece to the next—they’re functional, but not terribly memorable.
Fortunately, the central villain alleviates this flaw to a significant degree. With his dark, sunken eyes and sharp, almost skeletal facial features, Yasunori Kato is instantly iconic—the epitome of “screen presence.” He exudes menace, personifies malice; every deliciously diabolical line of dialogue that he delivers in his deep, gravelly growl is pure poetry, sending chills of terror down the viewer’s spine. Any scene that excludes him suffers for the omission—though even when he’s absent, his implicit threat still lingers, haunting the frame like a lurking specter, a whispered promise of calamity and impending doom.
Ultimately, director Akio Jissoji’s competent craftsmanship compensates for the movie’s minor formal and structural shortcomings; some mild narrative incoherence notwithstanding, Tokyo: The Last Megalopolis rarely fails to entertain. At the very least, it deserves credit for sheer ambition; precious few blockbusters nowadays dare to be this defiantly audacious and unconventional. Indeed, its superficial blemishes simply make its stylistic virtues more obvious and admirable. Warts and all, it is an essential genre masterpiece, worthy of being ranked alongside such horror classics as The Exorcist, Phantasm, and A Nightmare on Elm Street.
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So how much of the Teito Monogatari series have you actually read?
Non,I watched the moviethebookdefinitelyneedsadefinitiveenlisjedition,itsasrminalworkifpoopculture
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hi! apparently it had been longer than i thought since i looked for it cuz the live action teito monogatari is up on youtube w eng subs: https://youtu.be/FHwRHSsypT0
oh neat thank you! ^^ also for anyone else who wants
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妖怪大戦争 [Yōkai Daisensō] (2005)
English subtitles.
It's a modern CGI-tokusatsu film, and a kids film with cartoony sound effects, and a morbid graphic violent bad drama with traumatic scenes.
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the creation king scene in the first episode reminds me of iirc theres a deal in teito monogatari with an alternate extended showa era and the thing is the emperor was eating human flesh to extend his life
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