Matango: Attack of the Mushroom People movie review

by Chris   ⋅   August 14, 2005   ⋅   Comment now   ⋅    RSS

Being that there really have been no major reasons to travel to the cinema and pay $10 per ticket, as of late Kris and I have primarily been staying at home watching obscure films we find at the local independent record stores. This film, Matango, had a cover so enticing we could not pass it up. This past Saturday night, after extensive plum wine taste testing (see her review in the coming weeks) Kris and I sat down to watch.

First and foremost I must admit I’m rather ill-versed when it comes to Japanese Kaiju (big monster) films, or 60’s sci fi adventures. And though this film was made through the same channels of those previously mentioned, I would have to say it belongs in a category entirely of its own. Sure, human sized mushrooms could be lumped into the giant monster canon, and there are rubber suits and extensive use of brilliantly detailed little models, but how often have you seen a film billing itself as “The Attack of the Mushroom People?” If anything, Matango: Attack of the Mushroom People is a veritable Gilligan’s Island, with a nasty fungal infection, in glorious Technicolor Tohoscope.

The story of Matango is thus: A college professor and his studious co-ed, a wealthy ship owner and his skipper for hire, a loose woman and a sneaky bastard, take a weekend cruise of the coast of Japan. In a freak storm they lose the ship’s mast and eventually coast to a mysterious fog enshrouded island that even sea birds avoid. They make their way to shore in search of food and possible signs of life, finding only a derelict ship used in studying the effects of radioactive blasts. Though the ship’s cupboard is full, its crew is nowhere to be found; the only signs of life being a thick layer of algae, lichen, moss, and assorted other fungi, all seemingly spawned by a gigantic mutant mushroom kept in an oversized crate labeled “Matango”. As the food dwindles tensions grow, the mushrooms seem more and more a feasible source of sustenance, and a hostile presence, which may be the mutated forms of the former crew, takes notice from the surrounding jungle.

The story unfolds at a leisurely pace, the first half dedicated solely to exploration of the island, the search for food, and investigation into the fate of the original crew. Invariable the mystery of the mushrooms, as with most big monsters in post WWII Japanese cinema, is directly tied to the horrors of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. While never blatantly in your face, little touches, such as seagulls flying toward, and then steering clear of the island help to emphasize both the danger of the island, and the assault on the natural world which even the after effects of such radioactive blasts prove to be. It’s not until after the forty five minute mark that the first shadow (or mirage?) of a mushroom person makes its appearance. This allows you to really get used to the crew and the creepy nature of the island. In addition, no actor is allowed showboating privileges, so you can get to know each character on an individual basis. And all are equally liable to end up mushroom fodder. And then there’s the scenes involving Vegas-esque lights and contortionist dancing girls, as characters endure mushroom induced hallucinations.

The special effects are delightful; exemplary of the superior quality of old fashioned FX know-how. In one scene involving a tropical rainstorm mushrooms sprout and swell in the forest right before your eyes. Another scene involves a group of giant walking enoki closing in on an unfortunate fungus eater. All are done practically using prosthetics, models, and rubber suits. After 40+ years they prove far more convincing than the latest CGI SFX blowouts could ever hope.

The picture is shot in an ultra wide 2.53:1 aspect ratio. Though I mentioned Tohoscope in the beginning, I think the actual numbers help clarify this more. To give you an idea of what this means, most American widescreen productions are shot in 1.85:1 for comedies and dramas, and 2.35:1 (which Matango’s DVD box mistakenly lists) for wider screen action pieces. The widest ratio I’ve seen in recent years in popular American cinema is the 2.40:1 that David Fincher used in Fight Club and SE7EN. So take your average cinema canvas and stretch it even wider. This really proves something to behold in later scenes where the entire jungle seems to be coming alive; muted greens and reds threatening to swallow the castaways whole.

Matango is definitely an enjoyable little film. While not the all out monster movie you may expect from the title, its deliberately atmospheric sci-fi-horror-castaway tale proves just as, if not more engaging. And with a few friends and some plum wine this film is made-to-order fun.

– Chris Nelson

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