Director of Live-Action Look Back Dives into Ultraman’s Origin in New Doc

As an anime fan, you’ve probably heard of Ultraman at least once. His cross-armed Ultra Beam became a symbol of justice for Japanese children everywhere, many of whom grew up to shape the anime industry. Hideaki Anno, the creator of Neon Genesis Evangelion, submitted his own fan-film in university and essentially made TV original anime viable with his take on a darker Ultraman. I myself got into the franchise formally with Shinji Higuchi‘s Shin Ultraman, a feature-length reimagining of the original series written by Anno. But who came up with the original idea, and what made him so influential? While making the live-action adaptation of Look Back, director Hirokazu Kore-eda was tasked with finding out in an upcoming documentary by Tsuburaya shown at Japan House LA: The Origin of Ultraman.

Koreeda was admittedly an odd choice to head this project. He’s never done tokusatsu before, and he’s only recently dabbled with sci-fi in his recent feature, Sheep in the Box. His bread and butter has been humanistic stories exploring found family (Shoplifters), poverty (Nobody Knows), and memories (After Life). That’s why I’m personally excited for his version of Look Back, which creator Tatsuki Fujimoto has praised for being “able to bring out the atmosphere that the original had while giving it a real sense of authenticity.” But it turns out Ultraman might have instilled those values in the first place. As a kid of the 60s, he was there from the beginning, and it shaped much of his childhood. What really struck him was how the series tackled complex issues in a way kids could understand. The creators would describe this as sneaking vegetables into chocolate.

His favorite kaiju, Gomora, was actually a peaceful creature forcibly dragged out of its natural habitat to be displayed as a trophy for the Japan World Exposition. When they break free out of anger, and Ultraman has to fight, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for the kaiju. This story brought to light the Expo’s contradictory mission of representing human progress while actively polluting the earth. He would continue to follow the franchise as it got more morally complex, with his favorite entry being Ultraseven. One episode where Atlanteans get mistaken as aliens depicts humans as the invaders instead, leading to a pretty bitter victory.

Koreeda wasn’t the only one who rated Ultraseven highly: Shannon Tindle and John Aoshima (Co-Directors of Ultraman: Rising) based their protagonist Kenji Sato on Dan Moroboshi. Whereas previous Ultramen were inherently selfless, Dan had to let go of his selfishness to grasp his power. This character arc being more similar to American superhero origins made it easier to pitch in their own film, but even they didn’t expect to be offered an official entry in the franchise. While the two directors grew up watching Ultraman Tiga, they tried to write a story that was inspired by it without coming off as a rip-off. But Netflix recognized they were fans when reading their script, as they were already producing a CG Ultraman anime. With a pre-existing relationship with Tsuburaya, they instead suggested making an official Ultraman film. The result was an American-Produced entry that won the franchise an Emmy.

Plenty of other famous names show up in this documentary. Hideaki Anno famously cast himself as Ultraman in his student film, and his studio, KHARA, incorporates his transformation sound into its logo. Unlike animation, where he accepts that it’s all drawings, the way tokusatsu creates fantastical worlds physically has always enamored him. This also fascinated Drive director Nicolas Winding Refn. The skintight costumes, makeshift props, and pyrotechnics over miniature sets gave it a stagey appeal reminiscent of a glam rock concert. Hideo Kojima, the creator of Metal Gear Solid, links its creation to the space race and anti-war military otaku. To him, a giant astronaut that shoots lasers scratched the same itch that planes and tanks did to his parents’ generation.

But the one that gushed most was someone Koreeda talked to in person: Pacific Rim Director Guillermo del Toro. Being the one who formally introduced the term Kaiju into Hollywood, he had a lot to say regarding its role as TV’s first Kaiju franchise. What makes Kaiju fascinating as movie monsters is their depiction as forces of nature. Godzilla was famously an allegory for the atomic bomb, but the destruction caused by many kaiju was quite familiar to a country prone to natural disasters like Japan. He explains there’s something divine to a Kaiju’s towering presence. When something that large is right at your doorstep, all your daily concerns go away. So which visionaries made Kaiju the face of natural disasters, and who conceived of our alien protector? We have 3 names to thank: Eiji Tsuburaya, Tetsuo Kinjo, and Tohl Narita.

Much like Osamu Tezuka is to manga, Eiji Tsuburaya is considered the “Father of Tokusatsu”. An early adopter of film compositing and miniatures, he made a name for himself in the 50s and early 60s as the special effects director for TOHO‘s Kaiju films, including the first 3 Godzilla films. Monster movies were already a staple in Hollywood after King Kong, but they often relied on time-consuming stop motion animation. While personally a fan of the original King Kong, he knew that a film industry like Japan’s would take years to achieve the same result. So instead, he pioneered suitmation, where actors in rubber suits would walk on miniature sets. Rubber Dinosaur Suits were used in early sci-fi films (One Million B.C.), but they were considered a cost-cutting measure because of how goofy they looked. By filming from lower angles at a higher framerate and compositing real crowds running on sets similar to the miniatures, what was once considered a cheap effect suddenly became more convincing than any monster movie before.

For over a decade, more and more Japanese audiences came to see which new Kaiju film was in theaters. But even when the first Godzilla came out, TV had already become a staple of their media diet. By the 1960s, Japan became the first country to develop an HDTV system. Tsuburaya knew that if he could bring his kaiju spectacle to kids at home, it could change Japan’s entertainment industry forever. His first attempt at this was Ultra Q, a sci-fi anthology similar to The Twilight Zone. While initially committing to more supernatural stories, executives at Tokyo Broadcasting System sensed the potential to embrace a monster-of-the-week approach. The resulting series brought monsters from the movies to the silver screen. There was a new kaiju every week that children memorized and pretended to be at the playground. There was just one question: can we make the heroes just as marketable as the monsters?

This is where writer Tetsuo Kinjo comes in, pitching the idea that would later become Ultraman. It started with a more practical concern: how many times can regular folks encounter monsters before it gets silly? Rather than regular people meeting monsters week to week, he suggested a disaster response team proactively seeking out kaiju threats: the SSSP (Science Special Search Party). Also, since the Space Race was all the rage during the 60s, their protector would come from across the stars. An alien as tall as the kaiju would fuse with a human host, learning about humanity as one of them. The result was a more marketable Kaiju series to kids. Godzilla might fight a meaner kaiju if needed, but Ultraman was unequivocally the hero. Kids didn’t just wait for the new monsters, but also the towering defender and the cool adults by his side. So who do they have to thank for how he looked?

Enter the last member of our trio: Tohl Narita. He conceived Ultraman‘s design as a deity from outer space. His shining silver color scheme was reminiscent of astronauts: a symbol of hope during the space race. But his minimalist features feel beyond human. Kairi notes that his father found the human nose and ear to be visually unappealing, so he used a single vertical line to symbolize both. Meanwhile, his half-formed smile was inspired by both Greek and Buddhist statues: a stoic smile that emphasizes composure over enthusiasm. Part of this was also based on how Miyamoto Musashi smiled in the face of danger, but the layer of restraint in his permanent smile combined with his overall size channels the aura of religious monuments.

In contrast, Narita’s philosophy when creating kaiju was that they had to be presented as something natural rather than mutated. Children could tell when an animal looked too big or seemed to be in pain. So he laid out three design rules: “Don’t simply make existing animals bigger. If combining animals with humans, they mustn’t deform. And lastly, don’t make kaiju look unpleasant with blood or injuries.” The idea was to create creatures that were threatening yet majestic. As his son, Kairi Narita, says in the documentary, “Children must be shown something real.”

The combined work of these three creatives and dozens of crew members that followed led to a franchise that’s lasted 6 decades. Hiroko Sakurai, the actress for SSSP’s sole female officer, Akiko, recounted how Hajime Tsuburaya, Eiji’s eldest son, comforted her after she missed a date to shoot that night, saying they’d still be celebrated 30 years from now. 60 years later, she still works at Tsuburaya Productions. That kind of enduring love isn’t created in a lab, but earned over generations. The results speak for themselves, as that love is visible in other mediums like anime. From DAN DA DAN and 20th Century Boys to Gintama and School Rumble, they all in some way, repay the love they felt growing up with Ultraman through parody or basing part of their lore on it. And with Ultraman: Rising winning an Emmy, hopefully it continues to inspire future generations.