A History of Godzilla Zero Hour: Part One
An Account by Franz Vorenkamp
The events that would inevitably set Godzilla Zero Hour in motion took place while I was attempting to enjoy a fairly mediocre lunch during my senior year at Canton High School. I recall that I was trying to soften a stale bosco stick (kind of like an Italian breadstick filled with cheese) in a cup of Marinara sauce when someone alerted me to the fact that in three weeks the school would be hosting its first annual student video competition.
A little background first, though.
Since I was a young kid, I’d always experimented with my Mom’s video camera ever since my Father bought it for her as a gift when such things first became widely available in the early nineties. Although it didn’t look like much, the squat JVC Compact VHS Camcorder was an unsuspecting catalyst that would spark a fire in me that as of this writing has not fizzled out.
My father, likewise, was responsible for my love of classic Godzilla movies. Ever since that night when he sat me on his lap and watched Godzilla: King of the Monsters with me, I was on my way to becoming a full blown Godzilla addict. By the age of 9, I had acquired all of the Godzilla VHS’s that were available for purchase — I was even lucky enough to have stumbled across Godzilla Raids Again left dusty, and undiscovered, on a shelf in the mall video store. It was around that age — 9 — that I started to really experiment with making my own movies.
Like so many other Godzilla enthusiasts, I of course started off by attempting to make stop-motion videos using my Godzilla figurine. Singular, because in these times I wasn’t even aware of the existence of Bandai figures … instead, I rocked out with my giant 12″ tall rubber Imperial Godzilla figure, lovingly rescued from the bargain bin at Toys ‘R Us. Despite his silver chest and apparent fondness for red lipstick, he was the crown jewel of my toy box, and the star of my first film.
I like to think that I had a filmmaker’s mind from the beginning. I was a perceptive young kid, and I had always thought it would be cool if Hedorah, who was a monster of sludge, could shapeshift like the “liquid metal guy” from Terminator 2. So, armed with a blob of brown modeling clay, my trusty Godzilla, and a bottle of red food dye (because, naturally, in the mind of a 9/10 year old, Godzilla’s foes need to suffer a gruesome death) I set to work making my first stopmotion feature.
My parents were impressed with the outcome, especially at how my version of Hedorah changed his shape, but less than enthused about the red stain on the carpet from when Godzilla delivered the final crushing blow of defeat to his filthy opponent. Over the next few years, Godzilla would face (and defeat) the Incredible Hulk. He would eviscerate Batman. And on a particularly lively Christmas Eve, he would disembowel my cousin’s assailing Stretch Armstrong doll with his spiny dorsal plates.
As I grew up, the stop-motion movie-making eventually came to a close when the trusty JVC camcorder gave up the ghost. Sadly, the mighty Imperial Godzilla — weary from years of battle and abuse — began to crack apart as all well-loved rubber dinosaur toys eventually do. Moreover, my passion for movie making was slowly being replaced by a growing interest in computers and more traditional forms of art.
In the summer of 2004, when I was 15, my Father, who had been the biggest influence in my life (in so many more ways than just Godzilla) passed away after a long struggle with esophageal cancer. His loss made my remaining two years in High School difficult, but I was able to find refuge in my creative studies. Like my Father, I was naturally gifted in most artistic endeavors; following in his footsteps, I had also become adept at working with software like Adobe Photoshop. My knack for digital art evolved into an interest in animation. During the summer after my Junior year, this hobby really took off.
So, back to that lunch with the stale breadstick. Like the other art nerds, I rebelled from the norm and avoided the lunch room like the plague. Instead, I hung around in the art department, both hanging out with the other social rejects and honing my craft. Usually joining me was my girlfriend of then two years, Kourtnee, and my buddy Kurt. I think it might have been Kurt who brought up the video contest in between bites of food. Over the course of that year, I had gained a reputation around school for my off-the-wall animated videos that would accompany my presentations in class. Up to that point, however, I had not let anybody know about my modest work with 3D graphics.
Surprising Kurt, I suggested that we enter the contest ourselves. During the last few minutes of our addled Italian dejeuner, we called together a team to work on the project with us. Joining Kurt and myself, our shutterbug friend Morelli joined the fray. Additionally (and this is where things start to become ironic), I randomly asked a guy named Mike (whom I had never met) to join our motley crew. The idea was simple: take the video contest by storm and win the cash prize. Our method? Win the popular vote by reducing the High School to rubble the best way I could think of … with a 3D Godzilla.
After three weeks of shooting our epic, Kurt and I were feverishly editing trying to make the deadline. We even managed to skip school a couple of days to keep working. The delay came in large part from my inexperience with 3D … truthfully, I didn’t really know how to dub the CG characters over live-action backgrounds — the entire project was a massive gamble. Luckily, I figured it out and finished the project right on the due date. Had my Mother not been pulled over on the way to the High School (she insisted that she chauffer me, since I had not slept in almost two days), we might have made it on time.
Though a success, our first movie, “Judgment of Fire”, would not be eligible for the prize in the contest due to late submission. Imagine our shock when the voting students overwhelmingly sent the ballots back in our favor by way of write-in. Anti-Establishment at its finest.
Summer came and went, and eventually college began. All the while, Kurt, Mike, Mike2 and myself had been anxiously planning our next project. Since we had enjoyed ourselves so much on the first project, we voted unanimously to try another Godzilla film — tentatively titled: “Godzilla: After War”. Unlike the relatively short (15 min) “Judgment of Fire”, the new project was set to be a full-length feature.
However, we still had much to learn. We were still shooting off the hip — everything was improvised aside from a rough story outline. On the night we were set to shoot, we literally picked out our cast from each other’s cellphones. That evening, I met Kevin Jones and Bob Keith for the first time, courtesy of Mike’s cellphone. The shoot was washed out thanks to rain, but the friendships made that night would change things forever.
During the year between “Judgment” and the new project, my skill with CG had grown significantly. Now capable of pulling off better effects, we plotted to have Godzilla face off against Gamera in the film. The announcement of our project on the internet made some small waves, and we began to take the project more and more seriously. I had written a 25-page rough draft and submitted an article to G-Fan magazine detailing our idea, which by this time had been renamed “Godzilla: Zero Hour”. The story would be divided into four episodes. In the starring roles would be Kurt, Bob, and Mike. Naturally, Morelli would act as our cinematographer.
The final piece of the puzzle was added when I was introduced to Rob Harrington through Kevin Jones (who seemed to be infinitely connected). Rob would be lending his tremendous musical talent to the project and would compose its original score.
I was contacted shortly after the G-Fan article was printed by Joseph Schaefer, who was an avid playwriter and fan of Godzilla. Together, we would expand that 25-page draft to almost 125 pages. The story had evolved to feature not only Godzilla and Gamera, but the popular characters Legion, King Ghidorah (more on that later), Gigan, and Gyaos — fan favorites from both the Godzilla and Gamera series. After months of planning, rehearsing, and many revisions to the script, we were ready to shoot in early November 2005, aiming for a G-Fest premier in 2006.
Then, everything went to hell.
After three years of being my best friend, my confidant and my biggest support after my Dad had passed away, Kourtnee (whom I had been with for three years) left me suddenly in a very rocky breakup. The loss hit me unusually hard for someone who was only 18; this coupled with my Mother, who had begun dating again and bringing different people around the house, pushed me into a deep depression. Three months later, unwilling to deal with my negative attitude, Kurt and Morelli decided that our friendship was not to be. Without a leading man, a cinematographer … or even a camera for that matter … Godzilla: Zero Hour was doomed.
To be continued
