Graphic by Maya Uribe
By Miggy Aguilar
A few weeks ago my best friend suggested watching a new movie on Netflix that sounded out of the ordinary, or at the very least something I would not typically watch. She pitched it to me as the modern, animated retelling of a classic Japanese superhero story that had garnered a large pop-culture following in the mid-to-late sixties. At first I was confused, but I actually did not mind the suggestion as I already had an appreciation for Japanese culture through animation, the Japanese language and making friends with students at CI from Japan. I did not expect much though, as my usual taste in media ranges from romantic fiction to political commentary; watching a superhero fight giant monsters while wearing tights was not exactly what I had in mind for my Friday evening. I was shocked to find, however, that within Ultraman: Rising were important lessons about finding balance in my own day-to-day life.
For context, the film revolves around fictional Japanese professional baseball player Ken Sato who is suddenly pulled from his lucrative career with the Los Angeles Angels to move back to Japan following the apparent death of his mother, Emiko. Aside from needing to process his grief, Sato is called back to Japan by his father Hayao to help out with the family business.
What is the Sato family business, you ask? Our protagonist soon realizes that it involves having to take his father’s mantle as a masked vigilante named Ultraman who, through advanced technology, has the ability to grow to the size of buildings and use his strength to protect innocent civilians from monsters known as Kaiju (怪獣, lit. ‘strange beast’). The best and most classic examples of Kaiju from pop-culture that I can personally think of are Godzilla and King Kong, with these two having essentially started the Kaiju genre of action and horror films surrounding giant monsters. Over the course of Ultraman: Rising, Sato finds himself juggling the responsibilities of being a vigilante, playing for the Yomiuri Giants baseball team in Japan and addressing the unique challenge of being an adoptive father.
Sato’s role as a parent is far from normal. However, rather than being tasked with raising a human child, Sato is instead met with the daunting task of raising the child of a Kaiju he faced off against (affectionately named Emi, after his own late mother) but ultimately chose to defend from the Kaiju Defense Force (KDF) who pursued it with lethal intent. This is thematically consistent with the movie’s conservationist messaging, in which Sato’s father, Hayao, who was the previous bearer of the Ultraman mantle made a point to protect and rehabilitate Kaiju rather than kill them for the collateral damage they cause; an idea I believe is a metaphor for accepting and adapting to the changes that happen in one’s life rather than viewing them as threats that need to be mitigated. This further ties into the aspect of the Kaiju genre that is most tied to Japanese culture, which is the portrayal of Kaiju monsters as allegories for natural disasters as a way to give these calamities faces and names that the public can attribute suffering to. I believe that this subversion of that trope was helpful for me personally, as I found myself overwhelmed with work and school the week that I watched this film with my friend. I felt drawn to Sato’s willingness to accept the beauty of raising Emi despite her being a giant Kaiju rather pushing his responsibility away altogether because it reminded me of the effort I had put into appreciating life at CI and in California. Rather than push away my professors, my friends, my family and my loved ones I was compelled to accept the role they play in my life no matter how sudden and unwanted my own move to California was, thus creating a balance between acknowledging the hard road I took to get here and the beauty of the life I have now.
When Sato finds this balance he is not only able to be an effective and compassionate guardian for Emi, but he also finds success in other aspects of his life. The Giants begin winning more games, his relationship with his father improves and he finds that his relationship with his newfound friend, sports journalist Ami Wakita begins to flourish as well.
The way in which this has corresponded with my own life has helped me contextualize so much. Now, more than ever, I feel that I have been able to stop and smell the roses. To appreciate my achievements and my hard work, as well as the presence of the people in my life who love me and support me. This is the sentiment that I hope, if anyone at all reads this, is able to take away from my words and the beautiful imagery of Ultraman: Rising.
As the sun set from a strong crimson to a soft, cherry-like pink at Mom Wong’s just behind the John Spoor Broome Library, I turned to my friend. “That was actually really good,” I said reluctantly. “Let’s watch it again next week then, Wakita,” replied my friend, poking fun at the fact that I also work as a journalist.
I would not have traded it for the world.
Ultraman: Rising is streaming exclusively on Netflix.
