The Mushroom People Shall Lead Us

Ishiro Honda, the talented director of '56's Godzilla,King of the Monsters, brought us the superb Matango ('63).

It is required viewing for so many reasons.

My imdb review ran thus:

"Matango, directed by Ishiro Honda, is an exceptionally beautiful fantasy film from the mighty Toho. Bastardized for its American release, badly dubbed, retitled (Attack of the Mushroom People) and afforded very little respect, its recent re-emergence as a special edition DVD confirms its place in the realm of exceptional fantastique cinema.

Despite the striking art, there are no white chicks in Matango

"What makes this amazing film so effective is its seductively spare but intelligent screenplay, nightmarish atmosphere, serenely creepy score, and stunning special effects.

Tonally, it recalls underrated Japanese genre flicks such as The Mistress in a Cave, Horror of Malformed Men, and the delightful Living Skeleton.

Proof of the Japanese cult of Matango

"Like the mushrooms the shipwrecked survivors of a pleasure craft are drawn to, it seduces us with its simple structure, pleasing taste, and rich subtext.

"The film operates on a number of thematic levels, but Honda's achievement is that he never allows the dense thematics to weigh the very human drama down. Like all classic stories of survival, human greed, envy, love and hunger are the engines of the conflict. The search for a state of being that free of responsibility and consequences is the dream driving the conflicted.

"It is of curious interest to me that the characters in this "uncharted island" fantasy include a Skipper, a Millionaire, a Movie Star, a Professor, a First Mate and a Girl Next Door. Produced before Gilligan's Island debuted on American TV, it could surely be argued that this orchestration of characters was a template for Sherwood Schwartz, the creator of the much-loved TV series.

The "Ginger Grant" of Matango

"A palpable sadness permeates the last twenty minutes of Matango, a sense of blinding melancholy that elevates it to a dizzying level of achievement.

"Matango explores how we are all drawn to pleasures that we know may sign our death warrants while daring to suggest that death by pleasure is a demise preferable to death without love.

"Stunning."

Having watched this more than a dozen times, I discover a new treasure within it every time I take the plunge.

The film exerts a powerful influence that is addictive as its mushrooms.

Which is as it should be.

***

My posts will slacken considerably for the next 3 weeks as I am heading OS for a couple of shoots.

To Hell It Can Go!

Forrest J. Ackerman, "an inspiration to us all", is acknowledged in the first pages of this book.

It's not surprising.

Ed Naha's Horrors From Screen To Scream reads like a cross between Famous Monsters and Leonard Maltin's Movie Guide; it's short, sometimes witty, but not terribly prophetic.

When, at thirteen years of age, I caught the train on the first day of my September school holidays into the city, my destination was the usual -- Space Age Bookshop.

With close to $20 in my pocket, earned in a month long flurry of beer bottle collecting and trading, I was giddy with pulp purchase excitement.

The beautiful cover art (uncredited, altho it feels like Gogos) grabbed my attention, and the short, pithy reviews sealed the deal.

This one always makes me smile:

You just know Mr. Naha enjoyed coming up with the first line of that.

And this:

Short, but not too sweet enough for me.

As I read through the book at Melbourne's Flinders St. train station and missed half a dozen trains, I found myself wanting more than the author was serving up, and I did feel that the review of The Slime People was somewhat disrespectful.

The film was a pre-teen favorite of mine with its fog-shrouded Los Angeles setting and hulking monsters.

The "laughable terror" Naha had experienced was not shared by me.

At ten, it had scared the crap out of me sideways.


It Happened Here was a film I didn't see until two decades after reading this review.

Naha wasn't off base about its "uncomfortable realism".

Now it reads like heresy, but the author's review of Toho's Matango (aka Attack of the Mushroom People) made me laugh at the time. "Let us spray"?

But with the advent of the Japanese release of the film on DVD, I found myself introduced to a masterwork of fantasy that has become one of my favorite films of all time. "Let us spray"? now sounds like a joke made to crib a laugh while insulting a loyal subject.

I am convinced that Gilligan's Island ('64) took its inspiration (and character mix) from Matango ('63).

I've been wrong before and will be wrong several times again, but I'm not letting this one go.

A dedicated Matango rant is coming very soon.

Tender moment from The Evil of Frankenstein ('64)

In the pre-video age, books like Horrors From Screen To Scream (with their terrific black and white still selections) were essential fuel for our fantasy-starved hearts.

The cinema was more mysterious then because its treasures were less accessible.

Much of the magic was still in the mind.

The rules of scarcity prevailed.

The Baron, looking amazing, from Bava's Baron Blood ('72)

In the author's lengthy introduction, he explains: "What you have here is a book of monsters. It's not a work to be studied or dissected. (Its) one fan's way of saying thanks to the legions of monsters and equally admirable monster makers..."

Your sentiments are shared, Ed.