Godzilla vs. Biollante (1989) – Review

Have you ever watched a Godzilla movie and thought, “You know what this franchise needs? A kaiju that’s part Godzilla, part rosebush, and part nightmare fuel!” Well, buckle up, because Godzilla vs. Biollante delivers exactly that, and it’s glorious.

The plot? Oh, it’s gloriously bonkers. In the aftermath of The Return of Godzilla, Japan is still picking up the pieces from Big G’s last rampage. The government, realizing that Godzilla’s still out there just waiting to cause more property damage, sets out to find new ways to stop him. Enter G-cells: Godzilla’s regenerative DNA, which scientists are way too eager to experiment with. Because when has playing with radioactive monster DNA ever gone wrong? Others hope to use Godzilla’s cells to genetically modify plants so that they can turn a desert fertile. Enter Dr. Genshiro Shiragami’s (Kōji Takahashi), who was working on that noble application, but before you can say “tragic backstory,” his daughter, Erika (Yasuko Sawaguchi), is killed when industrial saboteurs bomb the institute’s laboratory, ruining the cells and killing Erika. 

 

Tragic Backstory Achievement…Unlocked.

Flash forward five years and Shiragami, who has refused to work with Godzilla’s cells ever since the death of his daughter, has suddenly agreed to work on the project because it looks like Godzilla is waking up, having fallen into a volcano at the end of The Return of Godzilla, and they need him to create “Anti-Nuclear Energy Bacteria” (ANEB), hoping it can serve as a weapon against Godzilla. Shiragami only agrees to join the project if he’s first given seven days to study Godzilla’s cells, alone in his own lab. So instead of, you know, grieving like a normal person, Shiragami had merged her DNA with a rose (okay, odd choice) and now he’s able to splice in some of those G-cells (oh no), creating something totally new: Biollante, a massive, mutated plant kaiju with Erika’s essence.

 

Could this be Audrey II’s cousin?

Before Japan can even process this botanic horror show, Godzilla wakes up from his volcanic nap, thanks to some careless submarine activity. The government panics and launches the Anti-Nuclear Energy Bacteria (ANEB), a biological weapon designed to infect and kill Godzilla from the inside. But deploying it isn’t so easy, especially with corporate spies, mercenaries, and psychic teenagers running around. Speaking of psychics, Miki Saegusa (Megumi Odaka), a young woman with ESP who has been running around trying to warn the Government that Godzilla is waking up, and she senses that Biollante is alive and suffering, which is the last thing you want from a skyscraper-sized monster. 

 

“Looks like someone paid for the Godzilla channel.”

Godzilla, as expected, shows up, and the military scrambles to stop him, deploying new anti-Godzilla technology, including the Super X2, a more advanced version of the original aerial weapon. However, Godzilla easily withstands their assault, forcing Japan to prepare for an all-out battle. Godzilla senses the presence of another kaiju, Biollante, now grown into an enormous, plant-based colossus rooted in Lake Ashino. The two monsters clash, with Biollante lashing out using its long, vine-like tendrils, equipped with razor-sharp teeth. Despite its resilience, Biollante proves no match for Godzilla’s atomic breath, and the creature is seemingly destroyed, dissolving into golden spores that ascend into the sky, but this is Godzilla, where monsters don’t stay dead for long.

 

“It’s the eye of the tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight.”

After wrecking Osaka (because why not?), the humans desperately try to infect Godzilla with the ANEB, but his nuclear-powered metabolism keeps burning it off. Scientists struggle to deliver the bacteria effectively, as Godzilla shrugs off conventional attacks and continues his rampage. While they work on overheating him to force the bacteria to work, Biollante returns, having evolved into an even more terrifying final form: a massive, glowing, rose-dragon hybrid with a gaping, crocodile-like mouth full of fangs and golden spores floating around it like some unholy dandelion from hell.

 

“You’re one ugly motherfucker.”

This time, the battle is brutal. Biollante wraps Godzilla in its thorny tendrils, spews acid sap in his face, and drags him around like a ragdoll. But Godzilla, being the ultimate kaiju brawler, blasts his atomic breath down Biollante’s throat, sending spores into the sky. As they drift upward, a ghostly vision of Erika appears, implying that she’s finally at peace (somehow). With Biollante gone, Godzilla—weakened but not beaten—lumbers back into the ocean, because, at the end of the day, no amount of military tech or science experiments can actually stop him. The humans celebrate their small victories, but deep down, they know Godzilla will always return.

 

“Screw this, I’m going to go and find King Ghidorah.”

Stray Observations:

• Using Godzilla’s cells to genetically modify plants, in the hope of transforming deserts into fertile land, is classic mad science. No notes.
• This was the first Godzilla film to use computer-generated imagery (CGI). Specifically for some computer-generated schematics.
• Dr. Genshiro Shiragami has a strange claim that Godzilla and Biollante are identical, “Made from the same cells. It’s just one is an animal and the other one is a plant.” Which kind of means they’re not identical. Are we sure of his scientific credentials?
• This is the first film where Godzilla demonstrates a surprising new weapon, the Full-Body Radiation. First, a short burst of radioactive breath flashes in Godzilla’s mouth, and then, a powerful pulse of bright, circulating energy is emitted from his torso.
• Miki Saegusa makes her first appearance, kicking off her recurring role as the franchise’s go-to psychic. Does she ever stop Godzilla from destroying things? Not really. But she feels that he’s about to do it, which is kind of helpful… maybe?
• The Super X2, the upgraded version of the first film’s Super X, has a cool heat-resistant mirror to deflect Godzilla’s atomic breath. Turns out, that only works until Godzilla decides to breathe a little harder.

 

“Why do we even bother?”

Written and directed by Kazuki Ōmori, Godzilla vs. Biollante stands as one of the most unique and ambitious entries in the long-running Godzilla franchise. Released as the second film in the Heisei era of Godzilla films, this instalment took the series in an unexpected direction by blending traditional kaiju action with elements of genetic engineering, horror, and psychological themes. With its complex narrative, impressive practical effects, and one of the most original kaiju adversaries ever conceived, Godzilla vs. Biollante remains a standout film that deserves greater recognition. Koichi Kawakita’s groundbreaking use of animatronics and intricate puppetry brought Biollante to life in an unsettlingly realistic way. The film’s visual effects, while adhering to the traditional suitmation techniques of Godzilla films, pushed the boundaries of what was possible in the genre at the time. 

 

This film offers some nice city rampaging.

Unlike many previous Godzilla films that focused primarily on nuclear allegory, Godzilla vs. Biollante explores the dangers of genetic manipulation. Dr. Shiragami, the film’s central scientist, seeks to preserve the memory of his late daughter by fusing her DNA with plant and monster cells, ultimately creating a monstrous being beyond his control. The film raises ethical questions about the unintended consequences of playing with nature—an issue that became particularly relevant during the late 20th century, as genetic research gained traction. But where the film does make a little misstep is the amount of time spent on the espionage subplot, when kaiju are destroying cities, I couldn’t care less about spies running around stealing stuff.

 

This guy does not have atomic breath, thus he is irrelevant.

Biollante also stands apart from most other kaiju in the Godzilla universe. Rather than being an ancient creature or an alien invader, Biollante is a creation of human experimentation gone horribly wrong. Her grotesque, ever-mutating form—from a giant rose to a nightmarish, tentacle-laden behemoth—adds an eerie, horror-like quality to the film. Unlike traditional villains, Biollante is portrayed as tragic, making her conflict with Godzilla feel more layered and emotionally complex than the typical kaiju showdown.

 

“Hey, this isn’t some of that creepy hentai shit, is it?”

Godzilla’s Role: Anti-Hero or Pure Menace? In this instalment, Godzilla is depicted as a force of destruction, yet his presence also serves as a counterbalance to Biollante’s unchecked growth. Unlike earlier portrayals of Godzilla as either a protector or a mindless villain, here he is a more ambiguous figure—an unpredictable force of nature. His battles with Biollante are not just about territorial dominance but also reflect the film’s overarching theme of humanity’s inability to control its own scientific advancements.

 

These guys are all about themes and symbolism.

In conclusion, Godzilla vs. Biollante is one of the strangest, most creative Godzilla movies ever made, blending sci-fi horror, bioengineering gone wrong, corporate espionage, and kaiju beatdowns into one unforgettable film. Whether you love it for its weirdness, its deeper themes about the dangers of genetic manipulation, or just because you want to watch a giant lizard fight a plant monster, it’s an absolute must-see for kaiju fans. If you like your kaiju fights with a side of mad science and existential dread, this one’s a must-watch.

BMX Bandits (1983) – Review

Before she graced red carpets and collected Oscars, Nicole Kidman was outrunning goons on a BMX bike, while sporting a glorious cloud of curly red hair and a whole lot of attitude. Does that sound like a great film to you? If so, then strap on your helmet, pump up those tires, and crank the synth soundtrack to eleven, because BMX Bandits is the cinematic equivalent of a sugar rush on two wheels!

Welcome to the sunny suburbs of Sydney, Australia, where the beach is bumpin’, the slang is thick, and the BMX bikes are fast. Real fast. This is where we meet our heroes: three teen misfits united by their love for dirt tracks, wheelies, and sticking it to the man. The plot of BMX Bandits is fairly simple: three teenagers, PJ (Angelo D’Angelo), Goose (James Lugton), and Judy (Nicole Kidman), stumble upon a stash of high-tech walkie-talkies, but not the cheap toy kind. These are military-grade, long-range radio communicators, capable of disrupting police channels. Unbeknownst to them, these radios were stolen and stashed by a gang of bank robbers planning a big payroll robbery.

“Who wants to be Mister Pink?”

Naturally, our teen heroes decide the best thing to do is sell the walkie-talkies at the local mall for quick cash, which naturally leads to the robbers coming after them and kicking off a high-stakes cat-and-mouse chase that turns the city into a BMX playground. These crooks, led by two hilariously bumbling henchmen named Whitey (David Argue) and Moustache (John Ley), who are basically Dollar Store Wet Bandits if even more incompetent. They try to catch the kids with disguises, ambushes, and even boats, but are constantly undone by flying pizzas, fire extinguishers, and the simple fact that they don’t know what the hell they are doing. There’s also the Big Boss (Bryan Marshall) behind it all, who’s a bit more serious and a lot grumpier, but he’s stuck depending on two guys who couldn’t outsmart a traffic cone. 

Seriously, what chance could these ’80s villains have against three spunky teens?

From here on out, the film becomes a high-octane BMX-powered game of cat and mouse. The crooks chase the kids. The kids ride bikes off ramps, through shopping malls, cemeteries, down stairwells, and into the harbour. Eventually concluding with our trio of teen heroes laying a trap to catch the crooks and earn enough reward money to build a BMX park for the local kids. And I must say, I love it when a plan comes together. It’s safe to say that BMX Bandits is a perfect blend of teen adventure, slapstick comedy, and real stunt riding into a colourful, fast-paced thrill ride. It’s equal parts a time capsule of early ’80s youth culture and a celebration of independence, creativity, and good old-fashioned BMX heroics.

It’s all good, clean fun.

Stray Observations:

• The masks the bank robbers chose to wear offered zero peripheral visibility, which is not ideal for holding up a bank where you have to keep an eye on customers and staff.
• In a harbour full of random boats and watercraft, our two idiot robbers immediately assume, correctly, that our trio of kids found and took the hidden walkie-talkies. Even when they passed them, they were nowhere near the drop point.
• Judy, P.J., and Goose sell the walkie-talkies to other kids in the area, but we see them selling only one handset to each person. Who buys only one walkie-talky?
• We get the classic “Not another drop” gag when a wino spots the two goons in monster masks climbing out of the cemetery.
• None of the leads perform their own bike stunts, made even more obvious by the use of a male stuntman in a wig to double for Nicole Kidman.
• That two idiots in a car could keep track of three kids riding BMX bikes is probably the least credible moment in this film, in a film loaded with incredulity. 

Our trio even took their bikes through a water park!

Brian Trenchard-Smith’s BMX Bandits isn’t so much a movie as it is a stunt reel to show off some very cool action sequences, with 80 percent of the movie being chase scenes, but it works. It’s also more than just a lighthearted Australian teen adventure; it’s a cinematic snapshot of a cultural moment that takes you on a fun ride through a unique era. Released in 1983, this vibrant film rides on the popularity of BMX biking, capturing the energy and optimism of youth while showcasing early signs of what would become an international star: Nicole Kidman. Though modest in its narrative ambitions, BMX Bandits is a film that thrives on its sense of movement, its connection to subculture, and its vivid aesthetic, all of which contribute to its lasting cult appeal.

Colourful bikes versus colourful criminals.

Nicole Kidman, only fifteen at the time of filming, gives an early glimpse of her natural screen presence. While her character is not dramatically complex, Kidman brings charm and charisma that hint at her future range. In retrospect, her role in BMX Bandits is a fascinating artifact—a look at a future Oscar winner in a genre that seems worlds away from her later work in films like The Hours or Moulin Rouge. Her role as Judy also deserves recognition. Although the script does not offer deep character development, Judy is no damsel in distress. She is courageous, quick-thinking, and an equal partner in the group’s escapades. In a genre and era that often sidelined female characters in action-driven stories, Judy’s prominence is both refreshing and progressive. This is “Girl Power” done correctly.

“I’m sorry, but only one of us is going to end up famous.”

Visually, the film is a neon-soaked celebration of early ‘80s style. With bright colours, oversized clothing, and a synth-heavy soundtrack, BMX Bandits doesn’t just depict a time period—it embodies it. Its tone is whimsical, occasionally slapstick, and consciously fun. The villains are exaggerated and harmless, serving more as comic foils than true threats. This tonal choice ensures the film remains family-friendly, but it also limits the emotional depth or stakes that might be found in more grounded youth dramas. The setting of Sydney plays an essential role in the film’s aesthetic. Far from the gritty or grim locales often seen in urban crime dramas, BMX Bandits turns the city into a kinetic playground. Shopping malls, harbours, water parks, and suburban streets all become part of an extended chase scene that feels joyful rather than dangerous.

Warning: This film may cause a spontaneous desire to build a ramp and do a back flip off your driveway.

In conclusion, BMX Bandits remains an enjoyable film because it is unapologetically fun. It doesn’t aim for gravitas but rather delivers a fast-paced, visually engaging, and culturally rich experience. It might not challenge viewers intellectually, but it doesn’t need to. It’s a love letter to bike-riding freedom, bright colours, and youthful mischief, a film that invites audiences to hop on and enjoy the ride. And hey, if for nothing else, it’s a great look at how great Kidman was at just fifteen years of age.

S&M Hunter (1986) – Review

Imagine a movie so gleefully absurd, so deeply committed to its bizarre premise, that it transcends good taste and logic to become something strangely mesmerizing. That’s S&M Hunter, a Japanese pinku-exploitation film that blends bondage, comedy, action, and the kind of fever-dream storytelling that only 1980s Japan could deliver.

The plot (because there is one, sort of) kicks off with the Dungeon Master (Yutaka Ikejima) showing prospective client Saeki (Bunmei Tobayama) around The Pleasure Dungeon, and asking such important questions as “Would you like sadism, masochism, costume play, or a scat job?” You know, standard questionnaire stuff. Saeki chooses sadism and is quickly introduced to Maria (Naomi Sugishita), a submissive dressed as a nun, but after a frenzied whipping that leaves the woman unconscious, the Dungeon Master is surprised that Saeki isn’t interested in having sex with her. Turns out the reason he came to this club was because he really hates women, and this seemed like the best place to vent his rage.

 

I guess there are worse therapies out there.

But why does Saeki hate women so much? Well, it turns out that Saeki is gay and a sukeban gang called “The Bombers” had kidnapped his boyfriend Jack (Akira Fukuda) in an attempt to “convert” him to their ways, as in make him like girls. Feeling for the man’s plight, the Dungeon Master offers the services of a mysterious figure known only as S&M Hunter (Shirô Shimomoto), a legendary bondage master who uses his expertise to train women to be slaves in the most… creative ways possible. His mission? To infiltrate the gang’s lair, unleash his erotic justice, and turn the tables using the sacred art of shibari (Japanese rope bondage). Yes, really. Armed with ropes, a confident smirk, and a poetic monologue about the beauty of restraint, our hero enters the fray, setting up a series of absurdly theatrical battles against his depraved foes.

 

It’s the eye patch that really sells his credibility.

Written and directed by Shuji Kataoka, S&M Hunter operates on pure grindhouse energy. It’s part superhero parody, part softcore sleaze, and 100% unhinged. Japanese exploitation cinema, particularly in the 1970s and 80s, saw the rise of pinku films—low-budget, erotically charged movies that often pushed the boundaries of storytelling, aesthetics, and societal taboo. It’s a film that also leans into its absurd humour, with exaggerated sound effects, dramatic zooms, and a script that delivers lines like “Cut one more rope and you will send her to the Ecstasy of Hell” and my personal favourite “All the masochists need me, I’m a charitable sadist.” All said without a hint of irony.

 

Is this the Cult of the Spider-Woman?

The lead performance by Shirô Shimomoto as S&M Hunter is a highlight as he plays the role with a mix of deadly seriousness and campy self-awareness, never breaking character, no matter how ludicrous the situation becomes, turning what should be an utterly laughable character into a weirdly charismatic antihero. His lines are delivered with such conviction that you almost believe this is a legitimate action movie—until you remember he’s defeating his enemies with rope tricks. Then there are the film’s antagonists, a gang of leather-clad, hyper-aggressive women who are cartoonishly evil but also very beautiful. The two key players in the gang are Meg (Hiromi Saotome), a professed man-hater who has a dark history with the S&M Hunter, and the gang’s leader, the imposing Machi (Ayu Kiyokawa), who not only fails to turn Jack into a heterosexual love but falls in love with the S&M Hunter and his rope skills.

 

Let’s just say, this is not a great moment for feminism.

For all its absurdity, S&M Hunter is surprisingly competent; despite being a low-budget production, it features stylish lighting and creative framing, especially during the bondage sequences. Visually, the entry employs many of the stylistic conventions of Japanese exploitation cinema: grainy cinematography, bold colours, and extreme close-ups that exaggerate the emotions of its eccentric characters. However, unlike the grim and often violent tone of some pinku films, S&M Hunter maintains an air of playfulness, never allowing its subject matter to become genuinely disturbing. The action sequences, featuring whips cracking like gunshots and elaborate bondage take-downs, are both hilariously over-the-top and strangely well-choreographed. It’s as if the filmmakers really wanted to make a visually interesting movie… but also had a quota of whips and ropes to meet. And hey, why not throw in some Nazi regalia as well?

 

I give you Japan’s answer to Ilsa: She Wolf of the SS.

It should be noted that while S&M Hunter is unmistakably a pinku film, it departs from the genre’s typical emphasis on lurid titillation. Instead, it embraces a tongue-in-cheek tone, parodying the tropes of exploitation cinema while still indulging in their excesses. Unlike more traditional pinku eiga that often dwell in gritty realism or melodrama, S&M Hunter revels in its own absurdity, making the film as much a comedy as it is an erotic thriller. The action sequences, exaggerated performances, and bizarre dialogue enhance its surreal nature, making it a film that both celebrates and mocks its genre. It is not your conventional love story, to say the least.

 

These people enjoy sunsets in a rather different fashion.

Of course, S&M Hunter is not a movie for the easily offended. It’s an exploitation film through and through, revelling in its own kink-fuelled chaos. The gender politics are… well, let’s just say “of its time,” and the film’s themes will undoubtedly raise eyebrows. The film leans heavily into that element of exploitation, with all the nudity, violence, and dubious consent tropes that come with the territory. And while it has a plot in the loosest sense, S&M Hunter is really just a series of elaborate set pieces connected by sheer willpower and kinky monologues. But as a piece of underground cult cinema, it’s a fascinating watch—equal parts hilarious, shocking, and oddly impressive in its commitment to the bit.

 

This is a movie that has it all, and then some.

In conclusion, if you enjoy films that abandon logic in favour of sheer entertainment, this is for you. Every scene plays out like a fever dream of leather, ropes, and bizarre one-liners. This is the kind of movie that defies conventional ratings, and if you’re looking for a wild, completely off-the-rails Japanese exploitation flick that feels like 1966’s Batman got lost in a seedy Tokyo back alley, S&M Hunter is a must-see. Just be prepared for whips, ropes, and a whole lot of “what did I just watch?” moments.

Submersion of Japan (1973) – Review

 

The disaster boom struck Hollywood hard in the 1970s, with the Airport franchise kicking off, as well as Irwin Allen’s The Poseidon Adventure and The Towering Inferno cementing him as the “Master of Disaster,” but Hollywood wasn’t the only producer of such cinematic spectacle. In 1973, Japan threw their hat in the ring with Submersion Japan.

Also known as “Japan Sinks,” this Japanese disaster film was based on the best-selling novel by Sakyo Komatsu and directed by Shiro Moritani. This entry brought us a harrowing and thought-provoking scenario of the gradual sinking of the entire Japanese archipelago due to intense seismic activity and tectonic shifts. The story kicks off with a series of catastrophic geological events that begin to unravel across Japan. A team of scientists, led by Dr. Tadokoro (Keiju Kobayashi), discovers that the tectonic plates beneath Japan are moving in such a way that they will eventually cause the entire nation to sink into the ocean. And who exactly can aid the country in its time of need?

Do these men have The Right Stuff?

Dr. Tadokoro, along with his team, conducts extensive research and studies on tectonic plate movements and seismic activity. They discover that a significant tectonic plate shift is underway, causing Japan to slowly but inexorably sink into the ocean. This shift is irreversible and, according to their calculations, could lead to the complete submersion of Japan within the next two years. Realizing the gravity of the situation, he urgently contacts government officials, including Prime Minister Yamamoto (Tetsuro Tamba). At first, the government is skeptical about the findings and reluctant to cause panic among the population. However, as more earthquakes and tsunamis strike various parts of Japan, causing massive destruction and loss of life, the government is forced to acknowledge the impending disaster.

It’s hard to ignore a country in flames.

Amidst the chaos, a love story unfolds between Onodera Toshio (Hiroshi Fujioka), a submarine pilot involved in the scientific exploration and evacuation efforts, and Reiko Abe (Ayumi Ishida), a young woman whose family has been affected by these disastrous events. It’s these two who will provide this film’s romantic subplot – and what disaster film is worth its salt if it doesn’t have a little romance – but what’s interesting about their relationship is that it’s far from overtly romantic. When Onodera tells Reiko “I don’t know if I love you or not. I also don’t know what marriage is like. You know I’ve never been married, but somehow, I feel I could get along with you,” it’s clear he’s no Don Juan.

Can this kind of love survive a major catastrophe?

Meanwhile, the Japanese population is gripped by fear and uncertainty, and the film portrays the various reactions of people from different walks of life—some refuse to believe the warnings, some descend into chaos, and others face the inevitable with stoic acceptance. As the country grapples with the looming apocalypse, the film delves into various subplots involving ordinary citizens, military personnel, and politicians, each facing the crisis in their unique ways. These personal stories help ground the film, adding emotional weight to the grand-scale disaster unfolding as they realize that evacuating 110 million people isn’t going to be all that easy.

“Is anyone using Greenland?”

Stray Observations:

• Onodera and Reiko are having a passionate “From Here to Eternity” beach love-making when interrupted by a volcanic eruption. Who knew Mother Nature could be such a cock-blocker.
• This isn’t the first disaster movie released from Japan, as I’ve always considered Gojira to be, in most respects, a disaster movie. Wide-scale destruction via a radioactive monster is only one step away from a natural disaster.
• The actor playing Prime Minister Yamamoto’s driver was stuntman Haruo Nakajima who would become best known for playing Godzilla in the original feature film series from 1954 to the early 1970s.
• Roger Corman would buy this movie for New World Pictures and cut it down from 143 minutes to 82 minutes while also stuffing in Lorne Greene as an ambassador at the United Nations.

 

“I blame this disaster on the Cylons.”

For a film made in the early 1970s, the visual effects for Submersion of Japan are a technical marvel. The special effects, supervised by Teruyoshi Nakano, are impressively executed, particularly the scenes depicting massive earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and the sinking of the islands. The practical effects and miniatures used to represent collapsing cities and infrastructure still hold up today, displaying meticulous attention to detail and a genuine effort to create a believable disaster scenario. Clearly, building all those cities for Godzilla to smash paid off.

Even Godzilla, on his best day, never destroyed the entire country.

The film’s cinematography and use of colour also played a crucial role in conveying the scale of the disaster, as the stark contrast between the serene beauty of Japan’s landscapes and the ensuing destruction is visually striking, enhancing the narrative’s emotional impact. The sense of dread and helplessness is further amplified by a haunting score composed by Masaru Sato, which combines traditional Japanese instruments with orchestral arrangements to underscore the film’s tragic and apocalyptic tone. And while Submersion of Japan might be slower-paced compared to more action-oriented disaster films, its focus on character development and the psychological impact of the catastrophe sets it apart. It’s a film that asks its audience to contemplate not just the physical destruction of a nation, but the cultural and emotional devastation that would accompany such a loss.

The triumph of the human spirit.

But beneath its disaster movie exterior, Submersion of Japan is a poignant exploration of human resilience and the lengths to which a nation will go to preserve its people and culture. The film raises thought-provoking questions about the impermanence of human achievements and the unpredictability of nature, themes particularly resonant in a country that has historically faced natural calamities such as earthquakes and tsunamis. The film also touches on geopolitical themes, as Japan’s government faces a moral and ethical dilemma regarding the mass evacuation of its citizens. We are left with such questions as “How does a densely populated nation, with deep cultural roots and limited resources, deal with an existential crisis?”

And can the population survive dodgy rear screen projections?

In conclusion, Submersion of Japan is a thought-provoking and chilling disaster film that remains relevant decades after its release. Its blend of spectacular effects, compelling storytelling, and deep themes makes it a standout film in the genre, and its exploration of humanity’s fragility in the face of overwhelming natural forces is both poignant and terrifying, making it a must-watch for fans of the genre and those interested in Japanese cinema.

Airwolf: The Movie (1984) – Review

The 80s were a golden era of television where every hero had a tragic past, every villain had a ridiculous plan, and every government agency had way too much money to spend on experimental aircraft. Enter Airwolf, the feature-length pilot that launched one of the most gloriously over-the-top TV shows of the decade. This isn’t just a movie; it’s a time capsule of everything that made 80s action great.

Before Airwolf soared onto television screens as one of the coolest action series of the 1980s, it debuted as a TV movie—a high-octane mix of espionage, techno-thriller intrigue, and airborne action. Created by Donald P. Bellisario (Magnum, P.I., Quantum Leap), this 1984 movie introduced the world to a state-of-the-art helicopter with enough firepower to take on an entire army. While it laid the foundation for the series that followed, Airwolf stands as a solid action flick that embraces the best (and cheesiest) aspects of its era. Mysterious loner hero? Check. Advanced super-vehicle? Check. Secret missions? Check. Take Knight Rider, swap the car for a helicopter, and you’ve got Airwolf.

 

This thing doesn’t even need K.I.T.T.

The story kicks off with The Firm, a mysterious intelligence agency that’s so secretive, they don’t even bother with a creative name. They’ve just developed Airwolf, and in typical ‘80s action fashion, the first thing they do is show it off in a flashy test run. But things quickly take a turn for the worse when the helicopter’s creator, Dr. Charles Henry Moffet (David Hemmings), decides he’s not just a scientist—he’s a full-blown, mustache-twirling villain. Needless to say, he turns rogue during the live demonstration of Airwolf’s capabilities, Moffet—who secretly harbours resentment toward The Firm—seizes control of the aircraft, using its weapons to massacre government personnel. He then steals Airwolf, escaping into the desert with the helicopter and a team of loyal operatives. He disappears into the Middle East, planning to sell the helicopter’s capabilities to hostile forces while conducting acts of terror.

 

This is what happens when you hire a mad scientist.

With Airwolf in enemy hands, The Firm’s director, Archangel (Alex Cord), a man who refuses to wear anything but a white suit and an eye patch, along with his beautiful Gabrielle Ademaur (Belinda Bauer) are out sent to recruit Stringfellow Hawke (Jan-Michael Vincent), a reclusive yet highly skilled helicopter pilot and one of the few people capable of handling the aircraft’s unique flight systems, in stealing Airwolf back. While initially reluctant to get involved, as he prefers to live in solitude at his cabin near a remote mountain lake, playing his cherished Stradivarius cello, he will accept the mission if the government will use its vast resources to help find out what happened to his brother who was declared missing in action fourteen years ago.

 

“I’m sure he’ll turn up alive by season four.”

But Stringfellow Hawke can’t do this alone. Enter Dominic Santini (Ernest Borgnine), the happiest, most lovable helicopter pilot/mechanic in the world! If Hawke is the moody antihero, Santini is his complete opposite—a cheerful, wisecracking, loyal old-timer who’s been flying helicopters since before Hawke was born. Using intelligence from The Firm (which mostly consists of vague satellite photos and Archangel making cryptic phone calls), Hawke and Santini track Moffet down to Libya, where the traitorous scientist has teamed up with Muammar Gaddafi and is using Airwolf to shoot down French fighters, blow up a United States destroyer, and just generally be a deranged lunatic.

 

It’s important to dress the part.

Our two heroes manage to sneak into Gaddafi’s desert compound, where they quickly discover that Gabrielle has been captured and is out being tortured by Moffet – she had replaced a murdered operative in the local nightclub but her undercover work didn’t last too long – and using some good old-fashioned covert ops trickery, Hawke and Santini manages to steal back Airwolf right out from under the noses of the Libyan security forces. 

 

“Pardon me while I whip this out.”

Cue the most insane aerial battle of the 1980s. Hawke takes to the skies in Airwolf, while the entire Libyan military is sent to stop them. What follows is a death-defying, high-speed, missile-filled dogfight over the Libyan desert, complete with barrel rolls, turbo boosts, and some very dramatic intense glaring. Hawke, being the superior pilot, outmanoeuvres the enemy at every turn. After a fierce battle, blowing up numerous helicopters and tanks, he finally gets to end Moffet’s reign of terror as he blasts him to oblivion with Airwolf’s devastating firepower. 

 

The stare of Death.

With Moffet dead and Airwolf recovered, Hawke does what any reasonable hero would do: He refuses to give the helicopter back. Yep, instead of returning Airwolf to The Firm, Hawke flies it to a hidden desert canyon known as the Valley of the Gods and stashes it away, vowing to only use it when he sees fit. The government is obviously not thrilled about this arrangement, but they don’t have a choice, so to obtain access to Airwolf, Archangel offers Hawke protection from other government agencies who might try to recover Airwolf; in return, Hawke and Santini must fly missions of national importance for The Firm.

 

“This is the beginning of a beautiful franchise.”

Stray Observations:

• The movie opens with Airwolf being tested near the famous desert location of Vasquez Rocks, if only we got to see Jan-Michael Vincent versus The Gorn.
• The original Airwolf pilot movie did borrow elements from the film Blue Thunder, particularly the character of the villain, played by Malcolm McDowell who was also British.
• The colour, make and model of the ‘Airwolf’ helicopter was a standard Bell 222 chopper which was black and modified by the attachment of some movie props. Not as cool looking as Blue Thunder but still pretty cool.
• The name of the government agency which developed the Airwolf helicopter was ”The Firm.” Sadly, there is no evidence that Gene Hackman or Tom Cruise worked for this particular firm.
• Hawke’s brooding cello solos – Nothing says “dangerous man with a past” like playing Bach alone in a cabin.
• That Airwolf theme? Pure synthesized perfection. It makes any scene feel like the most epic moment of your life. If you played it while doing laundry, you’d feel like you were saving the world.
• Airwolf can outfly jets, it has radar-cloaking capabilities and air-to-air and air-to-ground missiles. electronic countermeasures to jam enemy systems, reinforced with bulletproof plating and can withstand heavy attacks and probably make you breakfast if you ask nicely. 

 

Airwolf is the helicopter equivalent of a video game cheat code.

Unlike the later television series, the movie version features more brutal action, implied torture, and an overall grim tone. It was later edited for TV, but in its original form, it’s way more intense than you’d expect. This pilot is steeped in Cold War paranoia, betrayal, and even psychological trauma. As a standalone movie, Airwolf is a fun but flawed action flick, best enjoyed as a launchpad for the much-loved TV series. The concept of a super-powered attack helicopter, paired with spy-thriller storytelling, was enough to make it a hit, even if it never quite reaches the heights of more cinematic action fare. Fans of ’80s television and military tech will find plenty to love, but for newcomers, it’s best to watch as a curiosity piece before diving into the show.

 

Can you get 80s synth out of this thing?

On the acting side of things, Jan-Michael Vincent delivers a subdued yet effective performance, portraying Hawke as a man of few words but immense skill and as a leading man he could give Clint Eastwood a run for his money in the brooding department. Then there’s Ernest Borgnine’s Dominic Santini who provides the film with its emotional core. Borgnine, a seasoned actor, brings warmth and humour to the role, balancing out the film’s darker tones and is considered by most to be the heart of the movie. As for the villain, David Hemmings’ portrayal of Dr. Moffet, while somewhat over-the-top, serves its purpose in making him a convincingly sinister antagonist. Hemmings is deliciously slimy as the unhinged, sadistic scientist-turned-terrorist. His scenes, especially his twisted enjoyment of his own destruction, give the movie an extra layer of menace.

 

“If only I had a moustache to twirl.”

The true star of the movie? Airwolf itself. This isn’t just some fancy flying machine—it’s a heavily armed aerial death machine that can outmaneuver fighter jets and obliterate enemy bases. The aerial cinematography is top-notch, with practical stunt work that makes each dogfight feel intense. While the special effects are limited by the constraints of a television budget, the film compensates with tight cinematography and innovative camera angles that enhance the illusion of speed and firepower. The action sequences set a high standard for the series, ensuring that viewers were hooked from the beginning. Moffet’s initial theft and attack on a desert base show off Airwolf’s destructive power in brutal fashion. And when Hawke finally gets into the cockpit for the climactic showdown? It’s pure 80s action gold.

 

Bringing peace to the Middle East.

Beyond its action-packed sequences, Airwolf delves into themes that would remain central to the series. The idea of a powerful weapon being controlled by an independent operator rather than a government body raises moral and ethical questions. Hawke’s distrust of authority, his personal quest to find his brother, and his internal struggles with violence add depth to the show’s premise. These themes helped distinguish Airwolf from other action-oriented series of the time, making it more than just a showcase for explosions and aerial stunts. The pilot does attempt to toss in a little romance, sex sells you know, but even Gabrielle’s beauty has a hard time getting through Hawke’s extreme stoicism. Not that this particular relationship had much of a chance to grow.

 

“Sorry, a relationship would interfere with my brooding time.”

While the Airwolf television series went on to have a legendary run, nothing beats the sheer excitement and cinematic spectacle of this movie. It’s a high-flying, missile-firing, turbo-boosting thrill ride that delivers espionage, explosions, and enough Cold War paranoia to fuel a dozen action movies. It’s grittier and darker than the series that followed, but that works in its favour, making it stand out as more of a cinematic experience rather than just a TV show kickoff. If you love ‘80s action, spy thrillers, or just think helicopters are cool (and really, who doesn’t?), Airwolf is a must-watch.