Life is a wheel.
Everything old is new again.
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but you can remind him of the ones he knew.
These statements, and other equally fortune cookie-like expressions, point to the cyclicity of all aspects of life. Everything humans do seems to go in cycles. Art, science, fashion and technology; none of these are immune to this circular and repeating nature of human creativity. As to why this is, well, that’s a topic for a much more philosophical website than this. I’m sure if you have a few pints and the hour is late, a group can sit around and theorize endlessly about the whys and wherefores of the periodic nature of human endeavour.
So, why bring it up? Well, it’s not the first time I’ve mentioned it on the Lagoon, that’s for sure. The current trend towards “retro modelling” in all its forms seems to have taken root strongly in the hobby. The number of old, long-thought lost, kits being popped out as “retro reissues” is on the rise; there are entire companies that make their living doing this, Round 2 coming foremost to mind. There are others that have jumped on the bandwagon too, and now even Bandai can be seen popping out nostalgic MS kits that, while drastically inferior to newer moulds, still hold a fascination for more veteran builders. (That includes me. See my Cluster Gundam for details…)
It’s not just subjects or specific kits that are subject to this periodicity, either. There is an ebb and flow to the popularity of scales. For a while, it’s 1/72 that’s the darling, and then 1/48 and larger kits, like 1/32 ascend to the pinnacle of desirability and modeller focus. Currently, it seems that these larger scales are taking on growing importance as the bulk of North America’s modelling population ages and needs bigger parts. (I know I now need glasses to model… the end times are nigh!!!)
This isn’t the first time, though, that larger scales have come to the fore. Not even close. Back in the 1970s there was another wave of larger airplane kits. The introduction of 1/32 was something of a surprise at the time, and although Airfix took it further with 1/24 kits, most decided that the “smaller” 1/32s would be more manageable. Like all things, as time went on and the ability to put more detail in smaller kits improved, these old dinosaurs (literally – they’re big and kinda clunky and dumb) faded away. Survivors huddled, largely forgotten, in basements and attics everywhere, waiting for a day they’d once again see the light.
Unfortunately, the re-emergence of the 1/32 kit came about as technology had gotten to the point that a plane in this scale could be made exceptionally well-detailed, and this became the expectation. Now, size wasn’t the only selling point. There was certain level of fineness that was demanded by modellers. That meant that time really had passed these older kits by; retro-modelling fever (RMF) doesn’t really apply as much to large-scale planes as it does cars and smaller-scale subjects. That essentially spelled doom for the oldies.
Or did it? There’s still one place where old kits like that have a chance to shine through and find new love, and that is at the dealers’ rooms of model shows! My local club put their biannual show on in September (https://londonscalemodelshow.ca/), and like any good show, there was a lot on display, as well as a lot to buy.
From Out of Nowhere (well, some dude’s basement):
As most of you who’ve read my site know, I’m a sucker for quantity and subject over quality. I’ll take 10 oddball Matchbox and Heller kits over a single Tamiya for the same price. However, I generally try to stick to 1/72. I can fit more on display, they’re not usually not as complicated (except for that damnable Zvezda MiG-29 SMT) as larger kits, and there’s more variety. I have a few 1/48 kits because I like the subject matter, but I generally avoid larger-scale kits.
In fact, I only have two 1/32 planes. One, a Trumpeter F-7MG, I got because it was ridiculously cheap (at a show), the other I got because it was a Matchbox Bf-109. The F-7MG is a nice kit, and not as overly-detailed as it could be, but it’s enough. The Matchbox is just a big Matchbox, so that’s pretty awesome! I don’t mind the odd bigger plane if they’re fun and simple. Also, the Matchbox is nice because the nice box art is so big!
So, long story short, I don’t go looking for 1/32 planes, and I generally ignore them in a stack when I see them. I often effectively see right through them. That’s usually the case; though, it would seem, not always.
At the London show there were many vendors selling larger kits, and I just didn’t give a crud. However, one guy had a stack of awesome older kits, including many old Hasegawa and Tamiya planes, as well as some Hellers and other classics. Among them my eyes caught onto a specific bit of box-end art which sowed an N1K2-J George climbing out. Now, the art wasn’t particularly exciting, but the style was cool, and the maker of the kit surprised me: Tomy.
Since when did Tomy make kits? I know Takara did, and they were primarily a toy-maker. (Thanks for Transformers, by the way!) But I didn’t know Tomy, also a toy-maker, did the same thing. I was very curious, until I saw it was a 1/32. “Well, I’m here, and I’ve never seen one, I’ll take a look…” was how it started. I pulled it out and immediately got that funny feeling we’ve all had; you know the one where you know a door just opened and the trepidation of facing the unknown is overruled by the excitement of seeing what’s on the other side.
I then noticed that the same vendor had several 1/32 Japanese planes for sale, all of them old, but from a number of different makers. After some negotiation, and some time to think about it, we came to a deal. To this moment, I have no idea why I was so keen on getting these. Sure, I love Japanese WWII planes, and I love old box art, so there’s that, but there’s something intangible about these kits that I just loved.
So, let’s turn back the clock to the early 1970’s and see what Japan was offering for the first wave of 1/32 model planes, shall we? This isn’t retro-modelling, this is pure old-skool, new-old-stock stuff!
Four by Three:
There was a total of four kits that caught my eye in this particular case. Two were made by Tomy; the aforementioned N1K2-J “George” and a Ki-84 “Frank”. The third was an LS Models A6M5c “Zeke-52” (aka Zero) and the last was a Ki-61-1Kai “Tony”. The last one may seem less Japanese than the others, and I was surprised myself to see it was a Revell. However, the box was almost entirely Japanese, and the kit itself is made in Japan; Scalemates says that it was made by Revell Japan, and I’m assuming it was brought over here as a “Captive Import”.
The boxes are all large, but no larger than some 1/48 boxes today. That made me both curious and excited. For one thing, they wouldn’t be quite as hard to store as newer 1/32 kits, and it also implied that there might not be the same number of tiny, pesky detail pieces in these models. That one was by LS made me glad, too; many of their kits are excellent, and I had no reason to believe the Zero would break with this tradition.
Box Art Bonanza:
All the kits have beautiful box art. Since they’re all from the early ‘70s, it’s all hand-drawn and painted; none of this sterile CG crud we’re force fed on today’s much-less visceral boxes! Also, since the boxes are much bigger than 1/72 fighter boxes, there’s a lot more room for the art to shine through.
You can see that the Tony and Frank, from Tomy, use the same general approach. A coloured band across the top and bottom (different for each plane; very handy when viewing things in large piles where only box ends are visible) with the Tomy logo in the top corner. I’m not sure why the Tomy logo is over a reversed Romanian flag, but hey, I just work here. The bulk of the box is covered with a very large illustration of the subject matter with some background, but there is also a very creative use of white space. It feels like we’re seeing a snippet of a bigger painting, and that adds an air of the unknown to the art. It subconsciously makes us feel like we need to invest in the kit and its construction to get the full story. It’s clean and classy, and it’s something most other models in any time period don’t handle well.
The George is shown diving, its flaps slightly lowered for heavy maneuvering. It too has the whirling prob and smoking exhaust, but while the plane is just as weathered, it doesn’t have the same “touchability” factor as the Frank. Interestingly, the George is implied to have already claimed a victim, as a burning Hellcat can be seen diving below the main focus of the illustration. The smoke is odd, almost disjoint; it doesn’t fit, stylistically. It’s thick and heavy, and the style doesn’t match the rest of the box. Still, it’s a cool piece of art, and it shares the Frank’s use of white space to keep things clean and classy.
The other box is surprisingly different, in both style and approach. The Frank is shown just after flying over a TBM Avenger. With the gritty style, the whirling prop blades and flame-spitting exhaust really convey a sense of speed, and this is subliminally reinforced by the empty underwing shackles; the pilot has punched off his drop tanks, likely to engage the Avenger below! The Ki-84 is drawn rather weathered, with chipped paint and panel lines you can almost feel. There’s a sense of a combat to be joined, and the roughish condition of the Frank speaks to the increasing desperation of the IJA aircrews trying to stem the American tide.
The art on the LS box is more traditional, with a full-width piece of art with full background adorning most of the front of the box. The main subject is in the foreground, with a Hellcat diving below and behind. Th art is very nice, but less gritty than the Tomys’, and the Zero is in better shape, being clean and new-looking. In addition to the fire-spitting ejector stacks, there are wingtip vortices to add visual clues to speed. What’s really odd is that the Zero, at least, is flying the “wrong way”. Because Japanese reads Right-to-Left, it’s normal to see their box art (and indeed, manga panels and anime scenes) proceed in this way. It’s thus on the other boxes, too. However, LS changed it up and has the Zero “entering” from the left, Western-style. I can’t help but think this may have been to make the art stand out, even if it was subconsciously. To me, it looks normal, but to a Japanese person, it might be eye-catchingly non-standard.
As a note, a quick search on Scalemates does not show that box art at all for the LS 1/32 zero, and a Google Image search for the same also doesn’t show it. So, I don’t know if I suck at the internet, or if this is a rather unknown boxing. Regardless, as far as I can tell, this is one of the few places to see this piece of art!
The final kit is the Revell Tony, and it has, what I feel, is the nicest, most period-looking art of all. It’s a large scene of the Tony revving up on a tropical airfield. The clouds and the trees are more hinted at than detailed, although the hangar in the background is in sharper focus. The Tony itself is shown on the ground, and while it might not be as “action-filled” as the other three’s “flying” portraits, it has a charm all of its own. The detail on the Ki-61 is quite good, making it stand apart from the background.; Only the spottled cammo is vague, and there’s an interesting visual commentary going on with that. The human activity, it’s invasion of nature, is clear and detailed, while nature itself, far more eternal and yielding than any building or aircraft, continues on behind. Only humanity’s attempt to blend in with nature (via cammo) shares that vagueness. Am I reading too much into it? I don’t know, but Ikemetsu-san (the artist) should be commended for his great work in not only setting a scene for the Tony, but making a subtle statement about the juxtaposition between man and nature.
The sides of the boxes all have a cross sell on one side, and point out interesting features of the kit on the other. The two Tomy kits are “Scale and Action” kits. The “features” drawing is a simple side view with some Japanese text pointing out salient features. The “Scale and Action” means that, like so many Japanese car kits, these planes are meant to me motorized. However, the motor isn’t just there to make the prop spin. No, it’s there to actually TAXI THE AIRPLANE! The motor and prop are designed to actually pull the plane along a floor! Gotta admit… I’ve never seen that.
The LS is loaded with gimmicks as one might expect from a kit of this age; sliding canopy, retracting landing gear and what I think is a droppable centreline tank. However, it also shows a detailed instrument panel and engine, so the impression it gives is that it’s more of a serious kit than the toy-like Tomys. The Ki-61 shows no gimmicks, only nice artist’s renditions of the engine and cockpit, which, for the time, were doubtlessly considered to be highly detailed.
Chunky Boys:
If you’re familiar with modern 1/32 kits, you have a certain expectation as to what will await you inside a large-scale airplane kit. However, you need to cast those expectations aside. For, as you may suspect, you will be very, very disappointed upon opening these boxes. On the other hand, if you’re like me, and don’t want something super-finicky, but would just like something bigger to build as you get older, then man oh man… are you in luck!
While all of the kits vary a bit in terms of fineness, they are all, in essence, 1/72 kits pantographed up to 1/32. The layout of the parts will immediately seem similar to anyone who’s built one of these subjects in a smaller scale, especially if you built older kits. You get the usual “bottom wing pan”, upper wings, fuselage halves and stabilizers. By-and-large, there are no cockpit walls, although the landing gear bays are detailed on all but one of the kits. Surprisingly, the Zero doesn’t have full gear bays in the lower wings, a function of the gear’s retractability. The gear doors are also thick, and except for the Tony, lack detail on the inside surfaces.
The propellers are quite simple and undetailed, only the Tony having separate blades. The two Tomys actually come with TWO propellors. One is for the “detailed” display version, and the other is a one-piece unit made from much tougher plastic (allegedly) that is for the “driving” version. Apparently, it won’t break even if it runs into something. That’s an interesting bit of forethought!
The canopies on all the kits are thick, but the frames at this scale are going to be easy to mask, and a bit of distortion will help hide the lack of detail within. You’ll want to build them closed… trust me! Another interesting feature of the Tomys is that they have two kinds of landing gear and tail wheels – one that is “free running” but less detailed for the toy version, and one that is a bit more realistic for the static one.
So… let’s talk rivets and panel lines. We all know they’re the twin elephants in the room. Well, to be honest, I was really, really surprised. The Tomy kits have nicely recessed, fine panel lines with exceptionally small rivets. To be honest, they are really works of art. I’ll admit that I am not a detail-scholar when it comes to Japanese aircraft of WWII, so I have no idea if the details are realistic or spurious, and to be honest, I don’t give a rat’s patoot. The detail is amazing on the outside of these things, and you can tell that the goal was to make a kit that was big, and put detail where it counted – i.e., where it could be seen the most easily, and where it often is lacking in smaller kits of the time.
Frankly, the LS is the worst of them all. The rivets are raised (which is actually more realistic, but will be a real pain to deal with later…) the panel lines are also supremely fine, but raised. The plastic is also more brittle on the LS, and a quick check of the fit shows that a lot of work is going to be needed to correct seams and the like, meaning that all t his detail is going to get scrubbed off. So, the LS is a rescribing nightmare waiting to happen. It also seems to have the most sink marks.
The Revell, though, blew me away. It has very fine, recessed panel lines and many fewer rivets than the Tomys. However, they are EVEN FINER than those on the Tomy kits, which is astounding. The Revell also has much better detail than any of the others, with rudimentary cockpit wall detail, lading gear door detail and, of course, the exposed engine and guns that none of the others dare to attempt. It also has better clear components.
The Tomys suffer for being toys first, with the George having a shallow cockpit to allow room for the battery box. The idea is cute, but like with car kits, I wish Japanese makers would just LET KITS BE KITS. Toys are toys… sigh… Amazingly, and rather unusually, the Frank comes with a motor! (Usually, you have to get them separately.) The Mabuchi 260 motor is still in its original box, and has never been taken out. That’s pretty neat!
One interesting note is that all of the models have replicated the fabric finish of the movable control surfaces, although none of them are movable! Each does it in a different way, and it might be a bit heavy handed, but it gets the point across and I applaud them for the effort. Ribs show through slightly as the fabric sags just a bit between them. The surface finish is far less smooth than on the metal parts of the wing. It’s a nice touch.
Paperwork and Decals:
All but the Revell kit come with very large colour paint plans. The two Tomy kits have large, fold-out colour plans for multiple different marking/colour schemes. The George can be painted as three different planes, and the Frank has options for five. In both cases, the paint plans have a very cool, very unique aspect; they use silver ink to represent silver painted or aluminum-coloured undersides. It’s not just grey labelled as metal, it is actual silver ink, and you can see it shine when you tilt the plans in the light. There’s a note that says the silver represents more of an aluminum paint (or oxidized metal) than the polished metal of US fighters. Good to know!
The Zero’s paint plan is on a single piece of heavier cardstock, with multiple side views, one top and one underside view. They are more detailed, or “realistic” looking than the straight profiles used in the Tomy kits, but there’s no metallic ink on them. There are four different options for markings on this kit, it seems, although there is only one top and bottom view, indicating that, by the time the Model 52 came around, there wasn’t much in the way of options. Other sources can always be used too, of course. As mentioned, the Revell Tony doesn’t have a separate colour plan. However, there are multiple different schemes called out in the instructions, and there are five marking variations available to the modeller.
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All kits have large instructions, although why I don’t really know. They’re not complicated enough to need them, but they’re all the sizes of their kits’ respective boxes. You’d think they would make them a bit smaller, and easier to handle. I guess they figured if the booklet was small, it would drive home the innate simplicity of the kits, and maybe make it feel life you weren’t getting as much for your money?
The instructions are all clear and easy to follow, for the most part. There are Japanese notes everywhere, and Google Translate on your phone will come in handy if you’re curious as to what they’re saying. The kits were never intended for export, and it’s clear from the instructions that they were for the Japanese home market. Most modellers building these now will have secondary internet or printed resources for things like weapons fits and colours, so not understanding what the notes are saying is less important now. It will be important to find workarounds for the motorized gimmicks on the Tomys; the sliding “on/off” switches on the underside will have to go, for sure. Unless you want to taxi them around the basement, of course!
The decal sheets are large, and as you can see from above, have a number of different unit and individual aircraft markings. They’re all old, so the film has yellowed on some of them; the LS’ are in a plastic bag, and although a couple small things have been clipped off, they look in decent shape. The Revell’s seem to be the worst, and the Tomys’ decals are in the middle. While large, the sheets are for Hinomarus and large markings only; there are no stencils on these sheets. This seems like a strange omission at this scale, even to my eyes. They decals are just like those on older kits, but pantographed up too, and that’s a bit of a disappointment. You might want to find some stencils for these planes somewhere, as they will likely help the final result.
Conclusions:
I love older kits; they ooze a certain zeitgeist that new kits just can capture. Everything from the fonts used to the artistry and composition of the box art makes them interesting and fun. Even when they aren’t of things I’d necessarily normally buy, like 1/32 aircraft, the right box and age can win me over. That’s what happened here, and why I picked up these four large Japanese fighters.
As far as large-scale kits go, these old timers can’t compete with more modern kits. They lack the detail in both the cockpit area and landing gear/gear bays to really stand up to today’s offerings. The engines, too, while not bad for the time, are no match for today’s injection-moulded offerings, let alone resin ones, in any scale. Added to this, their decals are simple, lacking instruments, placards, stencils and other mainstays of more modern offerings. All in all, it sounds like these kits are really not something worth picking up, let alone building, right?
Well, on the surface, that does seem right. However, I say, emphatically, that this is wrong! These kits may not be up to modern standards, but they are still decent kits! They have excellently fine surface detail, and a lot of it. Shape-wise, from what I can tell, they are quite good, and they go out of their way to get the fabric control surfaces looking distinct. While the LS is a bit disappointing, the others are all excellent representations of a long-gone state-of-the art.
These kits are a great opportunity for someone who’s a bit inexperienced to get to grips with larger-scale kits. They’re not so fiddly and complicated as to be a turn-off, yet their accurate enough that when done, they should look like exactly what they are; bigger versions of 1/72 model airplanes. In addition, they’re great canvases for superdetailing, or installing aftermarket kits. If you want to explore adding detail to a cockpit, or gear bay, or engine, these are great trainers and test airframes, if nothing else.
Personally, I think these kits have a lot of potential, even when built without additions, to look good and make an interesting display. They’re large and commanding without being huge, and they won’t waste a lot of time on a lot of detail you can’t see when they’re done. To me, they are a perfect way to have an impressive display piece, even if it’s one that isn’t an exact, detail-for-detail copy of the real thing.
If you’re in the mood for something different, and want to get a real retro-modelling rush without any of the high prices of reissues, then old, original kits like this, that are largely forgotten, are a great way to do it. I know that I’m very happy I found these old gems, and one day, when I have a bit more time and maybe a bit less eyesight, I’ll be glad for their size and simplicity, not just their box art.
Many younger modellers, or more recent devotees to the hobby, will likely never have experienced kits like this originally; I know I am too young to have experienced them first hand. If you want to experience what modelling was like some half-century ago, then I can’t recommend these kits, or this class of kit enough. Maybe it is time for the dinosaurs to have another day in the sun? Then, the old really will become new again!
The Sprue Lagoon 