Dao of the Undead

With Halloween at the end of the month people will once again be finding themselves confronted by a seemingly never ending barrage of witches, ghosts, werewolves, Frankenstein monsters, and, of course, vampires. However, with the success of such book series – and now TV and movie series – as Stephanie Myer’s "Twilight" saga and Charlaine Harris’ "The Southern Vampire Mysteries" it may seem as if one has been dealing with blood suckers all year long.

I certainly don’t need to tell anyone that the vampire is without a doubt one of the most malleable mythological archetypes of all time, a fact which has guaranteed their survival and success right down to today. Storytellers of all stripes are constantly reimagining the vampire in a wide variety of ways; from gothic aristocrats hailing from foreign countries to katana swinging trench coat wearing warriors to baseball playing teens with sparkly skin.

However, one variation on the myth of the vampire which I think has failed to get more exposer here in the west is that of the Jiāng-Shī, sometimes referred to as the Chinese vampire. Back in the fall of 2008 I wrote my final paper, Dao of the Undead, for Introduction to Eastern Religions on the Jiāng-Shī and their context within the Taoist religion.

What follows is an abridged version of that same paper. I’ve removed much of the paper that dealt with the nuances of the Taoist faith’s perception of the body and soul. Suffice to say what one needs to know before continuing is that according to the Taoist faith, in particular the Shangqing school of the 4th-Century C.E., every human has two souls; an upper soul or cloudsoul (hun) composed of yang qi (chi) and a lower soul or whitesoul (pò) composed of yin qi (chi). When a person sleeps their souls travel outside of their bodies, the cloudsoul towards heaven where it communes with enlightened spirits and various deities; this being the cause of pleasant dreams. Whitesouls, on the other hand, travel down into the earth where they copulate with the dead and demons causing nightmares and sexual dreams. Keep this in mind while reading the following as such terminology will be used throughout...

Tales of the undead have been with humankind for thousands of years, whether they be Arabian ghouls, Slavic vampires, or Haitian zombies all cultures have some conception of the unquiet dead who refuse to stay in their graves. Chinese myth, legend, folklore, and film also have their own quirky, wholly original variation on this theme called the Jiāng-Shī[1] (pronounced Geungsi in Cantonese), a term which literally means “stiff corpse.”

According to Matthew Bunson, author of The Vampire Encyclopedia, the Jiāng-Shī of Chinese myth and legend are cadavers that return to life when their pò souls fail to leave the deceased’s body due to improper death (such as suicide) or burial (allowing an animal to jump over the body or moon/sunlight to fall on the corpse). Upon returning to life Jiāng-Shī will hop about with its arms out stretched (due to rigor mortis) causing trouble such as draining the life sustaining qi (pronounced chi) out of people. The skin of a Jiāng-Shī will often be discolored (usually green) as a result of mold which has accumulated on the body of the corpse.

A nearly identical report to Bunson’s is given by early 20th-Century religious historian J.J.M. de Groot who describes the Jiāng-Shī as; “a corpse which does not decay, a horrible or ferocious specter fond of catching and killing passers-by, more malicious than others because, having the body at its service, it possesses more strength and vigor than other disembodied ghosts.” Groot also comments on the physical appearance of the Jiāng-Shī describing it as being “covered all over with long white hair, and its nails are exceedingly long.”

It is not uncommon for scholars (and filmmakers) to compare the Jiāng-Shī to the western concept of the vampire. Even Groot, writing at the end of the 19th-Century, comments on the parallels between the Jiāng-Shī and the European vampire; “In China a vampire generally breaks out of its coffin during the night, as the powers of evil specters are paralyzed by daylight. It commonly kills its prey by sucking the blood out of the body, a proceeding which it completes in a few seconds.” However, Groot also notes that while tales depicting Jiāng-Shī as anthropophagi (man-eaters) are not uncommon, stories depicting them as blood suckers do not appear in China until the 19th-Century, a fact which undoubtedly betrays a western influence possibly even that of acclaimed 19th-Century horror author Bram Stoker himself whose classic novel “Dracula” was given the title of “Blood Sucking Jiāng-Shī” when first printed in China.

Folktales featuring Jiāng-Shī abound and both Bunson and, especially, Groot have collected numerous examples. One story from 1741 tells of a shepherd who took refuge, along with his sheep, in an old temple which was allegedly haunted. Around midnight the shepherd awoke to strange sounds. Gazing around he caught sight of a terrible green skinned cadaver with “eyes like lighting” rising from a grave located beneath three statues. The man attacked the Jiāng-Shī with a whip only to find that the weapon was useless. Fleeing for his life the shepherd took refuge in a tree where the Jiāng-Shī could not reach him. In the morning the Jiāng-Shī returned to its grave and the shepherd alerted the local authorities who immediately traveled to the temple where they unearthed the corpse and burned it “despite a putrid black vapor, the cracking of its bones, and the blood, which gushed forth from the remains.”

Another folktale recounts how a Jiāng-Shī once frequented the village in Ngan-cheu where it would come “soaring through the air, to devour the infants of the people.” In great need of assistance the villages contacted a “Taoist doctor, proficient in magic arts” who, after being showered with money and gifts, instructed the villagers to have the bravest man in town hide in the grave of the Jiāng-Shī with “two bells” which he should ring once the ghoul attempts to return home. The ringing of the bells, explained the Daoist, will paralyze the monster as they “generally fear very much the sound of jingles and hand-gongs.” Trapped outside its own grave, and unable to fly away due to a spell cast by the Daoist, the Jiāng-Shī is then ambushed by the villagers who fight with the corpse until dawn when it falls down dead once more at which point the villagers burn the body.

How dose one become a Jiāng-Shī? Traditionally, there are four ways that one can be created: “a violent death, an improper burial, a need for revenge against the living, or simply a desire to create mischief (sometimes of a sexual nature).” Another way in which a Jiāng-Shī can be created is “improper burial.”

According to Peter Nepstad, of The Illuminated Lantern.com, proper burial is an extremely important facet of the Taoist faith…

“Taoist funerals must be carefully conducted in order to keep the dead happy and at peace. Improper burial procedures may anger the spirit of the deceased and cause ruin or even death to one or more generations of the family. When a person dies, it is believed that the spirit separates from the body, but stays nearby until the body is buried. At the time of death, a Taoist priest is often summoned to the home to oversee the careful ritual preparations needed to ensure the burial is ritually correct. When the body is placed in the coffin, children of the family put the deceased's favorite things in with it. A banquet is prepared, and special charms are written on slips of paper. The charms are burned to send them to heaven and new charms replace them. The burial day is determined by a Taoist priest according to calendrical considerations. The site is also determined by the priest, using feng-shui. The priest must accompany the coffin to the cemetery, chanting and ringing bells. This is an important part of the priest’s duties to the community.”

Groot also confirms this and has dedicated much of his six volume series The Religious System of China, to the subject of death and burial. One way in which a burial can be botched, says Groot, is if sunlight or moonlight is allowed to fall on a corpse, an act which will transform the deceased into a Jiāng-Shī. This metamorphosis, says Groot, is the “natural consequence of the conception that light, fire, warmth, Yang in short, are identified with life.” Bunson also confirms this by noting that “direct sunlight or moonlight” is “capable of infusing the corpse with a supply of yang (a positive force), thereby fortifying the lower soul.” To prevent this, buildings which are used to store coffins must be without windows or cracks, least moon or sunlight spill inside.

Other ways in which a funeral can go so wrong as to wake the dead include burying the body in foreign or unfamiliar soil; which would sometimes happen if the person died while away from home. Also, according to some traditions, allowing an animal to jump over the body before burial will also solicit the ire of the dead since it is thought to literally block the soul’s accent out of the body.

Also according to Groot it is important to allow a body to decompose slightly before burial; “If burial takes place before decomposition, and the corpse obtains breath from the earth, it will after three months be overgrown entirely with hairs; if these are white, it is called a white evil, and if they are black, a black evil. It then enters houses to cause calamity.” Three months, not exactly a speedy process.

With so many things to potentially go wrong and wake the dead Daoist priests were constantly on standby and developed numerous incantations and rituals to deal with these troublesome corpses. This is another important aspect of the legend of the Jiāng-Shī for in none of the stories to we read of either Buddhist monks or parishioners of Confucianism arising to thwart these horrors.

Some of the methods by which a Jiāng-Shī could be stopped or thwarted include things as simple as holding your breath. Because the Jiāng-Shī is usually blind they have to find people by listening to the sound of them breathing, so holding your breath will confuse them. Other tricks involve blocking the Jiāng-Shī’s path as they are not very mobile, being confined to hopping in a straight line. Installing a threshold approximately 15 cm (6 in) high along the width of the door at the bottom can prevent a Jiāng-Shī from entering a household as it is apparently not possible for a Jiāng-Shī to hop that high. Other means of thwarting a Jiāng-Shī include scattering grains, rice, beans, seeds, and other small objects in the path of the Jiāng-Shī who will then have to count them before proceeding. Sticky rice is also believed to draw the evil spirit out of the Jiāng-Shī.

By far the most iconic method of confronting a Jiāng-Shī is to use a paper talismans typically made from strips of yellow paper with words written in chicken blood mixed with ink (or alternatively red ink). These talismans have the power to open celestial gates as well as paralyze evil spirits in their tracks. Today modern representations of the Jiāng-Shī often depict these ghouls with such talismans attached to their foreheads, a sign that they are under a priest’s divine charge.

Beginning in the 1980s movie production companies throughout Hong Kong began producing films featuring Jiāng-Shī as the monster of choice. These films were often a mix of horror, fantasy, comedy and kung-fu, two of the most famous of which were Encounters of the Spooky Kind (1980) and Mr. Vampire (1985). Both films stared actor Lam Ching-ying as a sort of Chinese Van Helsing and were highly successful at the Chinese box office, Mr. Vampire so much so that it inspired five sequels and numerous spin-offs. One of the more recent Chinese films to feature Jiāng-Shī (albeit in a supporting role) was 2004's Shaolin Vs. Evil Dead which stared Gordon Liu of Kill Bill (03-04) fame.

Visually, these films tend to depict Jiāng-Shī with blue skin and dressed in the clothing of a Qing Dynasty official from Manchuria; a not-so-subtle social critic on the Qing Dynasty which is widely considered amongst the Han Chinese to have been a bloodthirsty and inhuman rule. Mr. Vampire was also the first film to give Jiāng-Shī fangs in conjunction with the visual aesthetics of Western vampire movies.

Jiāng-Shī have also become popular in other East Asian countries such as Taiwan and Japan. Jiāng-Shī can be found hopping about in numerous Japanese cartoons, comics, and video games most notably Capcom's Darkstalker series which encompasses not only a series of video games, but also Japanese and American comics and cartoons and features an as-kicking female Jiāng-Shī by the name of Hsien-Ko (see center image).

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Blofeld, John. Taoist Mysteries and Magic. Bolder, Colorado: Shambhala Publications, Inc., 1973.

Bokenkamp, Stephen. Early Daoist Scriptures. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999.

Bunson, Matthew. The Vampire Encyclopedia. New York: Gramercy Books, 1993.

de Groot, J.J.M. The Religious System of China. 6 vols. (published with a subvention by the Dutch Colonial Government)., 1892-1910.

Nepstad, Peter. “Taoist Priests and Hopping Vampires”

Whitney, Ian. “Horror, Humor and Hopping in Hong Kong”

“Hopping Mad: A Brief Look at Chinese Vampire Movies” at pennyblood.com

Mr. Vampire. DVD. Directed by Ricky Lau. Screenplay by Ricky Lau, Chuek-Hon Szeto, Barry Wong, and Ying Wong. New York: 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment,
2004.

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[1] Though I will be using the spelling of Jiāng-Shī throughout this essay I have discovered that nearly every authoritative source out there offers its own variation on how to render these revenant’s name; author Matthew Bunson calls them “chiang-shi or kiang-si” while sinologist J.J.M. de Groot refers to them as “kiang si or kiong si.” Ian Whitney at GreenCine.com calls them “Gyonshi” as well as Jiāng-Shī and Penny Blood magazine labels them as “Geung-Si (or Chiang-Shih, or Jiangshi).” Another term which I have also come across is "Kyonshi" which means "hopping spirit."

“Ave Machina! Deus Est Machina!!”

Raise your hand if you remember Power Rangers…

Ok, now raise your hand if you still watch Power Rangers…

Ok, you don’t really have to answer that. I, myself, don’t watch Power Rangers anymore. I have however recently been taking a look at the original Japanese series which the U.S. Power Rangers was based on; Kyoryu Sentai Zyu-Ranger which in Japanese means “Dinosaur Squadron Beast Rangers.”

Zyu-Ranger was a very different show from the American series Power Rangers. In Zyu-Ranger the titular rangers were actually five ancient warrior priests, as oppose to five “teenagers with attitude,” awaken after millions of years to fight the evil witch Bandora. As priests they served the prehistoric Daijuujin or “Great Beast God.” Since there was no Zordon or Alpha 5 in Zyu-Ranger it was Daijuujin who acted as the team’s instructor and mentor. Western fans will recognize Daijuujin as the Power Ranger’s Megazord.

That’s right ‘the Megazord’ was originally a fully sentient mechanized deity, not just a big toy robot for a group of super-powered teens.

The concept of robotic deities is actually one which is encountered quite often in Japanese popular culture whether it be in Tokusatsu shows like Zyu-Ranger or in the form of anime (Mobile Fighter G Gundam, Evangelion, Shaman King, etc..), video games, or robotic toys like this “God Jesus Robot” which was popular in Japan in the 1980s and lives on today as an internet meme.

But wait, how can a robot be a god?

The answer to this question is actually part of a far greater one, namely why is it that the Japanese view of robots is so much more optimistic than that of Westerners? As is evident the Japanese have a clear fascination with the idea of robotics, which undoubtedly helps to explain why they are also the world’s leading experts in the field and will probably be the first country to possess actual sci-fi style robotic workers.

Westerners, however, have been fascinated with idea of artificially intelligent automatons for just as long as the Japanese have, but with one key difference. While the Japanese have been dreaming up stories about god-like robots that will make our lives better Westerners have been conjuring nightmare scenarios such as those seen in films like Metropolis (1927), Westworld (1973), The Terminator (1984), The Matrix (1999), and I Robot (2004) where such machines ultimately turn on their creators and either enslave or destroy humanity.

What can explain this polar opposite reaction to the idea of robotics? According to a thought provoking essay entitled How Religion Affects Our Views of Humanoid Robots published earlier this year on zyobotics.com the answer may actually lie in both culture’s mytho-religious backgrounds and how such sacred stories have themselves perceived the idea of man-made life.

To begin with, stories about man-made artificial intelligence have never gone over well here in the West. One of the earliest examples is a legend concerning the philosopher Rene Descartes who was said to have constructed a mechanical maiden called Ma fille Francine in 1640. All was well until Descartes took the robot with him on a sea voyage where the God-fearing sailors threw the creation overboard believing it to be the work of Satan.

Another example, even more pertinent to our discussion, is the story of John Murray Spear a former Universalist minister turned spiritualist who in 1853 attempted to usher in a New Age by constructing a mechanized messiah later immortalized under the moniker of the God Machine. Spear’s God Machine excited many people at the time of its completion and the minister proudly took his new deity on tour across New England. Unfortunately, things once again took a turn for the worst when an angry New York mob, torches in hand, set fire to the barn where Spear was housing his synthetic savior, ultimately destroying it.

However, the most famous western myth to involve the creation of artificial intelligence gone bad is not one of metal but of flesh in the form of Mary Shelley’s gothic classic Frankenstein or The Modern Prometheus (1818); the basis for every robot run amok story ever written since then.

According to Religious Studies scholar Prof. Robert Geraci in an article for the November 2006 issue of Theology and Science, this distinctly Western distrust of intelligent automatons is based largely in part on the Christian association of physical matter with evil, sin, and death and that in order to be “saved” one must transcend this corporal sphere of existence. Because of this the idea of beings (i.e. robots) whose existence is wholly physical (as oppose to humans who are assumed to have a spiritual component or soul) is a frightening concept. This is, of course, without even touching on the obvious factor that certain religious proponents would also undoubtedly perceive the idea of man creating life as being inherently blasphemous.

In contrast to this are the Japanese Buddhist and Shinto traditions which teach that all things have a soul or kami. This not only goes for people, animals, and plants but for rivers, mountains, forests and even inanimate objects like samurai swords, sandals, and sowing needles. Because of this prevailing idea it’s not at all hard to see why the Japanese would not have the same inherent disdain for robots that many Westerners seem to possess. For the Japanese a robot would have a soul, the proverbial “ghost in the machine,” as do all other things.

Likewise, according to researcher Kristy Boyle the Japanese’ love of robots can also be traced back to their strong affection for puppetry or Karakuri Ningyo which dates back as far as the 12th-Century. Japanese puppets, says Boyle, can take many forms from theater puppets to children’s toys but there is also a special class of puppets known as the Dashi Karakuri which are used in religious festivals. These puppets are used to mediate the boundaries between the human world and the spiritual world and are important ritual tools for ensuring fertility, healing the sick, bringing luck and rain. It is with the same reverence towards the Karakuri that many Japanese roboticists approach the idea of modern day artificially intelligent robots.

But getting back to the original point, how can a robot be a god?

The answer is quite simple from a Japanese point of view. First off Daijuujin (a.k.a. Megazord) meets the Shinto qualifications for a god in that he invokes awe in his mortal subjects, the Zyu-Rangers, and even in his enemies (Bandora is completely shocked when she first sees Daijuujin in his complete form). Secondly, if kami (souls or gods) can be found in all things, even weapons like swords, then it is quite easy to see how a weapon like Daijuujin can also be in possession of a kami. Furthermore, as a humanoid robot Daijuujin recalls the sacred Dashi Karakuri puppets thus making him an ideal mediator between the mortal realm and the spiritual one. In essence Daijuujin as a robot can be a god in Japan because he meets all of the qualifications and invokes all of these sacred ideas.

This concept is one that will be undoubtedly hard to grasp for many Western-minded readers who in my experience have a hard time grasping even the idea of the role of idols in Eastern religions. For these people, whether they are religious or not, the idea that a physical object – be it a fetish, idol, statue, puppet, or robot – can be more than what it appears – that it can in fact be or at least embody a god – is a wholly baffling concept due to Western religions own conception of God as invisible and beyond depiction.

In the end it is nevertheless interesting to see how technological advancements, such as robots, have been and are being interpreted by different cultures. In the recent film Terminator Salvation (2009) the cyborg character Marcus Wright was played out as a messianic figure (he’s even crucified twice in the film) who helps the human resistance in their fight against the evil A.I. Skynet. Then there are the two Transformers films which feature the heroic Autobots in their fight against the evil Decipticons. There’s even a council of god-like robots called The Primes who appear towards the end of the second film in what looks to be some sort of cyber-heaven. Both films have been massive box office hits, so perhaps times are a changing here in the West and a more positive view of robots is on the way in.

Sources:

“Robots!” by Sam Boykin, in Creative Loafing (March 28-April 3, 2001)
How Religion Affects Our Views of Humanoid Robots (April 12th 2009) at zygbotics.com
John Murray Spear's God Machine (May 2002) by Robert Damon Schneck at forteantimes.com
Power Rangers - What you might not have known (May 16th 2009) at retrojunk.com
More on Kyoryu Sentai Zyu-Ranger at http://www.supersentai.com/

Yamata no Orochi: In Legend and on Film

The Yamata no Orochi is a legendary dragon from Japanese mythology. Described as a beast so gigantic that a cedar forest grew on its back the Orochi possessed eight-heads and eight-tails, had eyes as red as winter cherries and a belly that was always stained with blood.

According to the Kojiki (lit. “Records of Ancient Matters” c. 712 C.E.), Orochi was slain by the Shinto storm god Susanoo, who was one of the three deities born to god Izanagi following his return from the underworld. Susanoo’s brother and sister were Tsukuyomi, god of the moon, and Amaterasu, goddess of the sun. Susanoo resented his role as god of storms and rebelled eventually causing so much disruption that he was banished from heaven and sent to Earth.

Once on Earth, Susanoo encountered an elderly couple who along with their young daughter were all weeping profusely. Susanoo inquired as to what was the matter and learned of the Yamata no Orochi and how the couple had been forced to sacrifice one of their eight daughters every year to the beast and now the time had come to sacrifice the eighth and final daughter.

Susanoo then promises the elderly couple to slay the Orochi if they in turn will let him marry their last daughter. The couple agrees and Susanoo transforms the girl into a comb which he then fastens in his hair. Susanoo then goes to work setting a trap for the dragon. He prepares eight barrels of rice wine and places them on a platform surrounded by a fence with eight openings. When the Orochi arrives to devour the young girl it instead discovers the wine. The monster greedily consumes the wine until it passes out drunk. Susanoo then goes and splits the Orochi open with his sword. When he does this he discovers fabulous Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi (lit. “Grass Cutting Sword”) which he gives to his sister, Amaterasu, to make amends for past wrongs.

Amaterasu later passes the sword along to her descendent; the first emperor of Japan. This sword along with the Yata no Kagami mirror and Yasakani no Magatama jewel become the three sacred Imperial Regalia of Japan which still exist today in the emperor’s keep.

Orochi: The Eight-Headed Dragon

Over the years Orochi has appeared in a handful of Japanese comics, video games, anime, and even live action films beginning with 1959’s The Three Treasures and most recently in 2003’s Onmyoji II.

However, perhaps the most famous film to star the titular dragon is the 1994 fantasy epic Orochi the Eight-Headed Dragon. Produced by Toho Studios (home of Godzilla) and directed by 90s Godzilla series veteran Takao Okawara, the film is set in medieval Japan and tells the story of Osus; the younger son of a pair of twins born to the Emperor of Yamato. An evil shaman named Tsukinowa tells the Emperor that if the boy is allowed to live that great misfortune will fall upon the kingdom. The Emperor agrees to kill his infant son and has Tsukinowa throw him off a cliff. However, the child is saved at the last minuet by the intervention of the phoenix-like White Bird of Heaven who deposits the child with the Emperor’s sister who is a priestess of the gods.

Osus is raised by his aunt and grows into a fine young warrior. Eventually his father tells him that he may return to the palace, much to the dismay of Tsukinowa. However, Osus’ return does bring misfortune in the form of the eminent death of both his mother and brother. Angry at his son the emperor sends him away on what must surely be a suicidal task to kill the chieftain of a nearby clan of barbarians.

On the way Osus encounters a young priestess named Oto who possesses the nifty ability to shoot fireballs from her palms. The two travel to the palace of the barbarian chieftain and Oto attempts to infiltrate the palace but is captured and bound to a post where she will be sacrificed to the demon-god Kumasogami. Osus storms the palace, kills the chieftain, and rescues Oto but not before Kumasogami materializes and the two duel it out.

Upon returning home the emperor says that he is proud of his son but does not yet forgive him. Tsukinowa, however, is furious and summons a sea monster to kill Osus. Osus battles the monster but goes down for the count until Oto sacrifices herself to save him.

Meanwhile Osus’ aunt learns that Tsukinowa is actually a devotee of the nefarious lunar deity Tsukuyomi who is preparing to return to Earth (he's been floating around in the depths of space in what looks like a UFO made out of crystals) where he will wreak havoc. Osus, distraught over Oto’s death, takes refuge in the temple of the Bull-Headed Judge of the Underworld. The Judge appears before Osus and challenges him to a duel. Impressed by his skills he makes him the gods’ champion and returns Oto to him as well. The Judge then tells Osus that he must travel to the moon where Tsukuyomi has set up base and defeat the evil god.

Together Osus and Oto fly to the moon upon the White Bird of Heaven and attack Tsukuyomi in his palace. Osus and Tsukuyomi sword fight and then eventually transform into giant monsters; Tsukuyomi into Orochi (there was a reason this film was named after him) and Osus into a giant robot armed with light saber, I mean….oh hell it’s a light saber!

Of course, Osus triumphs banishing Tsukuyomi back to the depth of space. In the end Oto asks the Judge of the Underworld why, if Tsukuyomi is evil, the other gods don’t simply just kill him. The Judge responds saying that the next time Tsukuyomi returns to earth he will prove a force of good because “gods are like that.”

Orochi the Eight-Headed Dragon is an epic if flawed film. The film’s story obliviously takes several creative liberties with the original mythology, most notably the fusing of the character of Tsukuyomi with that of Orochi. This aside the film has several other problems. The plot feels episodic and forced. The human fight scenes are well staged as is the fight between Osus and the demon-god Kumasogami which reminded me of something one might see in an old Ray Harryhausen Sinbad movie.

However, director Takao Okawara has often been criticized for his inability to stage a properly choreographed monster fight scene, a fact which is especially true when dealing with Orochi and Osus’ final anemic lunar battle. Part of problem is the fact that Orochi is simply a large mechanized puppet and thus can’t move around very well. Then there is the fact that Osus transforms into a robot reminiscent of something one might see on The Power Ranger. Not that Tsukuyomi and his lunar palace (did he buy it from Rita Repulsa?) don’t also come across as the type of villain one might expect to see on that show.

In the end, Orochi the Eight-Headed Dragon is definitely not one of Toho Studios’ better films. Using the Netflix five star rating system I give it a two and a half; I like it – just not that much.

Ghidorah: Spawn of Orochi

While Orochi the Eight-Headed Dragon was a weak movie in many ways, Toho has nevertheless produced a large number of stellar giant monster films (or “kaiju eiga”) over the past fifty-years. During this time Toho has created a number of iconic creatures including Godzilla, Mothra, Rodan, and Ghidorah; a golden three-headed dragon dedicated to destroying all life on Earth. A force of nearly unstoppable destruction Ghidorah is the modern day descendent of Yamata no Orochi; in spirit at least.

Having first appeared in the 1964 monster mash Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster, Ghidorah quickly became one of Toho Studios’ most iconic villains battling such characters as Godzilla, Mothra, and even the superhero Zone Fighter on numerous occasions. Ghidorah was a beast so powerful it often took the combined effort of Godzilla, Mothra, Rodan and on one occasion four other monsters to stop him.

In the 90s Ghidorah’s size was increased and he was rechristened King Ghidorah. Ghidorah has also taken on a number of different forms over the years including; Mecha-King Ghidorah (a cyborg form), Desghidorah (a black four legged version), Cretaceous Ghidorah (who was responsible for the extinction of the dinosaurs), Grand King Ghidorah (a pointer version of King Ghidorah), and Keizer Ghidorah (a four legged shape shifting version).

The connection between Ghidorah and Orochi was always implied, never explicit, until the 2001 film Godzilla, Mothra, King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All Out Attack in which it is actually stated that Ghidorah is an immature Orochi having failed to grow its remaining five heads.

Sources:

The Ultimate Encyclopedia of Mythology (2001) by Arthur Cotterell & Rachel Storm
Orochi at www.tvtropes.org

Pictures:

At Top: Susanoo battles Orochi (c. 1870s) by Toyohara Chikanobu.

Center Left: Orochi the Eight-Headed Dragon (1994) movie poster.

Center: Godzilla vs. Ghidorah from Godzilla, Mothra, King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All Out Attack (2001)

Bottom: The many faces of Ghidorah. Clockwise from the top left; Desghidorah, Cretaceous Ghidorah, Keizer Ghidorah, and Mecha-King Ghidorah.

Setsubun

Today (Feb. 3rd) is Setsubun in Japan. Setsubun, which literally means “seasonal division,” marks the start of the New Year as well as the beginning of spring (Feb 4th) in Japan according to the old lunar calendar. On Setsubun, Japanese families prepare for spring by cleaning their homes and then by performing a ritual known as Mamemaki in which the oldest male will throw a handful of soybeans outside their front door while shouting “Oni wa soto! Fuku wa uchi!” a phrase which means “Oni out, happiness in!” or “Oni out, luck in!” Afterwards the family will eat some soybeans, one for each year of their life.

In Japanese mythology and folklore Oni are troll-like demons who often serve the role of the generic villain opposed to the hero, much like giants or dragons do in western myths and legends. On Setsubun the Oni function as a symbol for evil and misfortune which may afflict people in the coming year. Since the 13th-Century tradition has held that Oni can be expelled or driven away by soybeans, which is why they are scattered outside the front door at the beginning of the year.

Prior to the 13th-Century it was custom for families to keep Oni away by making a ritual bonfire outside their homes in which they would smoke dried sardine heads and bang on drums. Others would also decorate a sacred tree with sardine heads, cloves of garlic, or onions. It is thought that after this ritual became too impractical (and possibly too annoying) that the bean-throwing ritual replaced it.

Why soybeans were chosen is a bit of a mystery. Some scholars trace the choice of bean back to a traditional No Comedy play performed at Mibu Temple in Kyoto in which an old woman attempts to steal a beautiful kimono and a magic hammer from an Oni. The Oni catches the old woman, however, and in order to escape the woman throws soybeans at him. Other think the choice was a result of soybeans being cheap and easily obtainable.

Despite not being an official national holiday Setsubun in celebrated all over Japan and everyone from Shinto priests to Buddhist monks to pop-culture celebrities get in on the celebration.

At Top: Celebrities celebrate Setsubun at Ikuta Shrine, Kobe.

Sources: Get Out Ogre! Come In Happiness! Setsubun in Japan; A Lunar "New Years' Eve" (Revised Jan. 2009) by Steve Renshaw and Saori Ihara, Setsubun at japan-guide.com, and Oni at http://www.obakemono.com/

Dogs in Myth and Legend: The Faithful Hound

This post was written for Deborah Parkhill Mullis at Metrolina Dog Reporter.

Dogs have been the faithful companions of mankind for well over 12,000-years and in that time have amassed their own unique body of legend and lore. Myths about dogs often revolve around one or more of the animal’s well known traits such as their skills as guardians or hunters. However above all it is a dog’s unwavering loyalty which has earned them a place in the annals of myth and folklore.

The “Faithful Hound” motif, one of the major folkloric archetypes, can be found around the world beginning in ancient Greece with Homer’s epic the Odyssey in which it is Odysseus’ faithful dog Argos who is the only one who recognizes the hero upon his return home; Odysseus had aged twenty-years and was disguised as a beggar when he reappeared.

One of the best known folktales to involve a “Faithful Hound” is the 18th-Century Welsh legend of the deerhound Gelert whose master, Prince Llewellyn, left his hound in charge of his infant son while he went out hunting. When the prince returned he found the room destroyed and his son’s cradle overturned, the baby nowhere in sight. It was then that Gelert appeared, his muzzle coated in blood. Horrified the prince assumed the worst, that his once beloved dog had slain his only heir. Drawing his sword the prince slew Gelert. It was only after the fact that the prince began to hear the baby’s muffled cries and proceeded to search the room where he discovered not only his son – alive and well beneath the overturned cradle – but the body of a dead wolf. It was then that the prince realized his horrible mistake.

Today Gelert’s grave, which is located in the village of Beddgelert, serves as a major tourist attraction. According to local folklore even the village’s name, Beddgelert, is believed to mean “Gelert’s Grave,” though this theory is largely dismissed by historians.

Gelert’s story may be based on that of another famous dog; the 13th-Century French greyhound Guinefort. Guinefort’s tale is almost identical to that of Gelert’s; Guinefort’s master, a knight from a castle near the city of Lyon, leaves the hound in charge of his infant child while he goes out. When he returns the room is in shambles and the child is missing, but there’s Guinefort mouth wet with blood. The knight slays the dog only to discover moments after that his child is alive, having been saved by the faithful dog from a deadly viper whose dead body lay nearby.

What makes Guinefort’s story unique from Gelert’s however, is what happens next. Distraught over the slaying of his faithful hound the knight buries the dog and erects a small shrine over the grave. As word spread concerning the events which lead to Guinefort’s death, local villagers began to regard the greyhound as something of a martyr. A local cult quickly began to form around the dog, now called Saint Guinefort, and mothers with ill or sickly children would bring them to Guinefort’s grave in hope of a miracle. The Catholic Church was none to happy about this however and quickly labeled the cult of St. Guinefort as a heresy inspired by the devil. The Inquisition was sent to deal with the cult but despite their best efforts was unable to stamp out the veneration of the dog which (according to some reports) lasted well into the 1940s!

Other examples of the “Faithful Hound” motif can be found in several contemporary near-legendary tales. One of these is the story of Greyfriars Bobby, a Skye terrier whose owner, John Grey, died in Edinburgh, Scotland in 1858 when Bobby was two-years-old. Grey was buried in Greyfriars Kirkyard and Bobby attended the funeral. After the funeral Bobby refused to leave his master’s grave except for meals which he received at a local restaurant.

Tales of Bobby’s fidelity quickly spread across Scotland and then overseas transforming the steadfast pooch into a living legend. In order to make sure that Bobby was protected the children of Edinburgh donated their pocket money towards buying him a collar and the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, Sir William Chambers, paid for the renewal of Bobby’s license making him the responsibility of the city council. Bobby was eventually awarded the Freedom of the City of Edinburgh; he is the only dog to ever receive this prestigious honor.

After fourteen years of faithfully waiting by his master’s graveside Bobby died on January 14th 1872. He was buried just inside the gate of Greyfriars Kirkyard, as close to his master’s grave as could be allowed. In 1981 The Dog Aid Society of Scotland erected a red granite tombstone over Bobby’s grave. In addition to this a statue of Greyfriars Bobby can be seen atop a fountain in Edinburgh’s Candlemaker Row in front of the Greyfriars Bobby pub.

A similar story to that of Greyfriars Bobby is that of Hachikō, an Akita from the city of Odate, Akita Prefecture, Japan. Hachikō’s owner was Dr. Ueno of Tokyo’s Imperial University. Everyday Dr. Ueno would board the train at Tokyo’s Shibuya Railway Station to go to work. When he returned in the evening Hachikō would be waiting. Then one evening in 1925 Dr. Ueno didn’t return home, he had died of a heart attack while at work earlier that day. Nevertheless Hachikō continued to show up every evening at the Shibuya Railway Station for the next ten years even after it became difficult for him to walk due to arthritis. When Hachikō died on March 8th 1935 at the age of twelve a National Day of Mourning was declared.

The year before, a bronze statue of Hachikō had been erected at Shibuya Railway Station. Unfortunately the statue was demolished during World War II so that the metal could be used for the war effort. After the war The Society for Recreating the Hachikō Statue had a second statue erected in August of 1948, it still stands at the Shibuya Railway Station today.

Sources: DK Eyewitness Books: Dogs (2004) by Juliet Clutton-Brock, The Hidden Powers of Animals: Uncovering the Secrets of Nature (2001) by Dr. Karl P.N. Shuker, and Curious Myths of the Middle Ages (2005) by Sabine Baring-Gould.

Granddaughter of the Monkey King

Ever since its composure in the 16th-Century, the timeless Chinese epic Journey to the West has been a source of creative inspiration for writers, artists and filmmakers throughout Asia. There have been books, plays, comics, manga, anime, movies, TV shows and video games all based off the story of Sun Wukong and his fabled traveling companions.

One of these games was the 1984 Capcom arcade game Sonson. Loosely based on the actual legend, Sonson allowed players to play as the Monkey King or Songoku as he is called in Japan. Along with Sanjo Hoshi (Tripitaka), Hatskai (Pigsy) and Sagojyo (Sandy), players had to do battle with a never ending onslaught of pixilated monsters, demons, and gods drawn from both Chinese and Japanese mythology. Naturally, the game proved a big success and a sequel, Sonson II, was made. However, this was the last game in the Sonson series…sort of.

As it would turn out, in the world of Capcom some characters never truly go away. In 2000 Capcom released the highly anticipated Marvel vs. Capcom II, the second game in what is undoubtedly one of Capcom’s most successful series. Marvel vs. Capcom pits characters from the Marvel Comics Universe (Spider-Man, Iron-Man, X-Men) against characters from the Capcom Universe. In Marvel vs. Capcom II one of these characters is Sonson; the granddaughter of Songoku! Essentially a female version of her granddaddy Sonson is on a mission to discover the source of a mysterious plague that struck her native village. Sonson has many of the same powers as Songoku including his magical size-changing Bo staff and the ability to create clones via strands of hairs. However, some abilities are truly special such as one attack in which Sonson tries to cook her opponent in the Shinka Hakke Jin and turn them into sake.

Of course, nothing in the original Journey to the West myth ever suggests that Sun Wukong ever sired any offspring, much less had a granddaughter. However, it’s still nice to think that if the Great Sage Equal to Heaven had, that she might be something like Capcom’s Sonson.

Top Left: Sonson from Marvel vs. Capcom II.

Momotarō: A Japanese Fairy-Tale

Momotarō: A Japanese Fairy-Tale as retold by Justin M.

Once upon a time, in the land of Japan, there lived an old couple who had no children of their own. For years the couple had prayed to the gods to bless them with a child, and finally the gods consented.

One day while the old woman was down by the river washing clothes, and her husband was off chopping wood, a giant peach came floating down stream. The old woman had never seen a peach of such size and scooped it up deciding it would make for an excellent supper. That night the old woman presented the peach to her husband who picked up a knife and prepared to slice open the magnificent fruit.

But before the old man could make the first cut the peach split open and a human boy popped out. The boy then told the old man and woman that he had been sent by the gods to be their son. Overjoyed, the old man and woman picked the boy up in their arms and named him Momotarō, which means "Peach-Boy."

Momotarō soon grew into a fine young man under his surrogate mother and father’s tutelage and when he was fifteen-years-old asked their permission to go off on a quest. For some time now, the village in which Momotarō’s family lived had been plagued by a horde of oni who lived offshore in a castle on Oni Island. Momotarō’s plan was to slay the troublesom oni and liberate the villagers. Naturally, Momotarō's parents were very worried for their son’s safety but agreed to let him go, knowing that he was a most exceptional child. Biding him goodbye, Momotarō’s parents blessed their son with two final parting gifts; his father’s ax and a basket with three rice cakes in it which his mother had made.

It was then that Momotarō set off for the oni’s island home. Along the way he encountered a spotted dog that was very hungry. Spotted dog barked at Momotarō and bared his teeth. But Momotarō was not afraid and gave the hungry dog a rice cake. After filling his belly with the delicious rice cake the spotted dog’s mood improved greatly and when he heard of Momotarō’s plan to go and slay the oni of Oni-Island he decided to accompany him.

As Momotarō and spotted dog set off they soon encountered an angry monkey who threw sticks at them. Momotarō gave the monkey a rice cake and the monkey soon calmed down. When Momotarō shared with the monkey his plan to fight the oni on Oni Island monkey quickly agreed to come with. A little while later the trio came upon a vigilant pheasant. This pheasant, like spotted dog and monkey, turned out to be very found of rice cakes as well, but not very found of the troublesome oni living on Oni Island and also agreed to help Momotarō.

Soon the Momotarō and his three animal companions reached the shore and stared out over the sea at the ominous outline of what was Oni Island. Momotarō then fell some trees and the four friends began constructing a boat which they then boarded and sailed across on to the island.

Once there Momotarō had pheasant fly high above the castle walls and scout out what was going on inside. When pheasant reported back that the oni inside were fast asleep, Momotarō instructed monkey to scale the walls of the castle and unlock the gate from the inside. Once this was done Momotarō and spotted dog rushed inside. Spotted dog bit the heels of the oni causing them to loose their balance and fall to the floor where their necks then met the vengeful blade of Momotarō’s father’s ax. It was not long before all the oni were dead.

Momotarō and his three friends then heaped all the treasure and goods that the oni had stolen from the villagers onto their boat and sailed back home where they returned what had been stolen to its rightful owners. Momotarō then returned home to his surrogate mother and father and they all lived happily ever after.

At Top: Momotarō and companions in front of the Okayama Station in Japan.

Center: Hell's Frozen Over. Snow covered oni welcome visitors to Hokkaido, Japan's famous "Hell Valley."

Sources: Realm of the Rising Sun: Japanese Myth (Ed. 2008), by Toney Allen, Michael Kerrigan, and Charles Phillip.