“Goro takes one last long, slow drag off the Lucky Strike ,which now just a stub of its former self. The ember swells hot , and is quickly extinguished in the ashtray. His creation now complete, he takes a swig of Kirin and contemplates a pointless Porpus watercraft for Roku-chan”.
This is the shit I make up in my sleep deprived mind as I put the finishing touches on the Billiken pre painted vinyl kit at Walker’s.
My hands are cooking , and the tell tale chemical burn from the heat gun is causing me to hallucinate slightly. Work has predictably caused another 48 hour run on fumes, and I am happy to oblige my state with a little trip to the studio of paint and air compressors to meet with friends and go on a journey of my own at the same time.
Shutting the gun off, The metal barrel cools and a click clack of metal contraction is my momentary soundtrack.
He stands there. That little grinning bastard on the table… reminding me of a time when I looked everywhere for a toy of him. I spent the late 70’s and early 80s hoping in vain.
I’m mimicking his expression apparently. Someone comments I look like a kid standing there.
I love this character.
“Red Arone“, the brainchild of a group of children in a Toho contest in 1972, stands out among his brothers in terms of his ability to elicit a love him or hate him attitude. He is the end result of adult marketing prowess and the imagination/drawings of the kids who expanded upon the pre existing Tokusatsu archetype. It is this slight divergence from the status quo that makes me a fan.
Eventually renamed Jet Jaguar, he represents the first pure humanoid robot in Toho’s aging G franchise, and appears in what is arguably the one Godzilla movie we love to hate most.
Sure there is a kitchen sink element to his appearance from a pure design sense. Certainly he is a mutt of sorts. Some Ultraman purists will point out the obvious. But it is this disdain that makes me pull for him all the more.
He is a candy colored mess of contradiction. A synthesis of the jaded and the innocent minds of the time. Transparent? Yes. But perfect in his stupidity and funk factor.
How could that ever be a bad thing?
Soon I figure, it is not the lack of r.e.m or the fumes , but the effects of aging sentimentality that is the catalyst for this dumb smile.
punch ! Punch! PUNCH! drunk love.