It appears that America is no longer alone in the war against bulging waistbands, and, in fact, it never was alone. Popular media outlets here in the States have continually made the obesity epidemic issue seem as if it were utterly American, and therefore irrelevant to the rest of the world, who appeared free from the clutches of fat stereotypes and drive-thru culture. Yet, if the photo comparison above is any hint, the obesity epidemic knows no geographical boundaries, as it has made big bosom buddies out of the U.S and Monster Island, the famed haven for movie monsters just south of Tokyo, Japan.
One of the central residents, pictured above, of Monster Island is none other than Godzilla's son, Minilla, aka Minya, who made his feature-length debut in the aptly titled 1967 movie, "Son of Godzilla," and who has not worked since 2004's "Godzilla: Final Wars." "Don't let the title fool you," says Minilla, as he and I relax for a talk and some iced tea on one of the island's many beaches. I offer him sugar, but he just as soon shakes his head in determined refusal.
"To my father, the king of all monsters, there is no such thing as a 'final war,' so my 4 year absence from the monster movie scene can't be explained by me having starred in a film idiotically called 'Final Wars.'" There is a distinctive tone of bitterness in Minilla's voice as he says this, squinting all the while at the ocean ahead of us. Minilla then shuts his eyes. "Perhaps he's trying to collect his cool", I first thought. But he hesitantly turns his head towards my direction, as if he were drawn, in the most awkward fashion, by some unknown force. He opens his eyes, and they are on the 6 sugar packets I had left between us. After a few seconds, he squints and shifts his gaze, now looking out of the left corner of his eye, perhaps suddenly aware that I have been monitoring him the whole time. He raises his long untouched unsweetened iced tea to his lips, and, after a faint sigh, takes a second sip. Minilla signals, or attempts to signal, his refreshment with a weak lip smack, and with a laborious-sounding "Aaahh," which came off more like a resigned "Uugghh."
"The real reason why I haven't been in any movies as of late has nothing to do with my so-called 'limited acting potential or appeal,'" swiftly argues Minilla, with the acidity of a veteran actor made cynical by a notoriously fickle movie industry. "These critics would have you believe that, but what do they know about being a movie monster? What do they know about being the son of fucking Godzilla, for Christ's sake? I may be smaller than the rest of the movie monsters, and I may look a bit odd. Some asshole sci-fi nerd--American, of course--once wrote on some message board that I reminded him of Casper. A representative of Toho Productions, my father's film and commercial enterprise, told me this a while back, and I shit you not, never before in my career have I ever wanted so badly to go to the U.S., just so I can track down this nerd and stomp out his sad existence. And I had my opportunities, too, as you may already know, whenever my father travelled there for film shoots. But he would always insist that I stay behind, and have Mothra or Rodan 'babysit' me. I never really understood why the winged babysitters all the time? I hated them hovering above and around my every move, annoying beyond measure. And whenever Mothra would bring her miniature girlfriends over--you know, those two fairies with those ear-popping voices of theirs--I was always so close to calling my agent then and there to tell him that I needed to be treated for depression."
It is here that Minilla notices that he is rambling, finally pausing for a moment's consideration. "You're writing about the 'obesity epidemic,' right? I'm so sorry, it's just that," Minilla pauses again, still sparing very little eye contact, "I get so emotional about how things have turned out for me recently in the movie biz, that's all, and it has to do with what you're writing about, definitely." I catch him reaching out for a sugar packet with a surreptitious advance of his right hand, but he quickly stops, and starts to draw lines in the sand while picking up his drink to his lips with his other hand. With a third light sip, he quickly utters "This sure is great tea I certainly must have the recipe sometime" before he begins his intended discussion anew...
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