Deep Down, Maybe We’re All Mushroom People

Much like Midnight Meat Train, Matango: Attack of the Mushroom People has the kind of misdirecting title that might put potential viewers in the wrong frame of mind when sitting down to watch this 1963 Japanese oddity. Thankfully, unlike Midnight Meat Train, it does not suck in the least.

Quick Plot: We open in a hospital with a back-lit man telling us his tale. SPOILER ALERT! He will survive what we’re about to see (at least up to the time the flashback meets the present, because, you know, he's telling us his story). 

His yarn beginneth:

While sailing with free spirits on a sunny day, a batch of wealthy professionals get stuck in a storm and end up washed ashore to a mysteriously abandoned island. As arguments abound over just who the REAL skipper is, the folks gradually realize something is quite amiss on their tropical not-paradise.

For starters, nary a bird nor beetle seems to be buzzing. The only life is of the plant variety, with a healthy population of fungi making the island its home. After discovering another shipwrecked vessel rotting away under mold, the group decides to ration their canned food, scavenge what they can, and avoid ingesting any of the maybe (or most certainly) poisonous mushrooms that seem to be blooming throughout their their new residence.

If you’re like me, you might now be thinking “sheesh Emily, we’re three paragraphs into this synopsis and not once have you said the words ‘mushroom people.’ What gives?” Well, a surprisingly lot. See, though a film titled Matango: Attack of the Mushroom People would lead you to expect, well, lots of mushroom people, director Ishiro Godzilla Honda has other ideas in mind.

Thankfully, they are good ones.

Rations lead to hoarding, hoarding leads to hunger, and hunger leads our grumpy survivors to feast upon the colorful garden of fungus freely growing about them. Those who give in turn loopy. Those who don’t stay hungry. And eventually, mushroom people happen.

Matango is an unusual film and I mean that as a compliment of the highest esteem. Though the characters didn’t quite engage me, the caustic pacing, eerie atmosphere, and unique payoff more than make up for it to produce a weirdly fascinating little genre picture unlike anything else. Now THAT’s an achievement in itself.

High Notes

Honda’s soundtrack is wonderfully weird, with everything from loud instrumentals to eerie laughter doing its part to set a tone like nothing you’ve quite experienced before

Although the actual design of the mushroom people isn’t necessarily cutting edge, there’s something pretty groovy about the fact that no two look the same

Low Notes

I might be convinced to blame some of the bland characterization on awkward dubbing, but it is a tad disappointing that some of the players--particularly the virginal ‘heroine’--fail to leave a major impression

Lessons Learned

Everything in Tokyo is important (it’s a great city and full of life)

If you threaten a girl then pretend to be kind to her she’ll fall for you immediately

Turtle eggs are rich in protein

Rent/Bury/Buy

Long hard to find (and a ‘long wait’ on Netflix), Matango earns its place as a cult favorite. The movie is far eerier than you probably would expect based on its title and premise, and as a result, it’s simply filled with surprises from beginning to end. Sure, the dubbing is imperfect and characters thin, but its utter, well, DIFFERENTNESS makes this well worth a taste.

And You Thought Your Commute Was Rough

As stated before, the outcry over Lions Gate’s shelving of Midnight Meat Train riles up a nerve in my defenses. It’s not that I support a major studio burying an original horror film in dollar theaters and DVD bins; I just wish all the boo hooeing by genre fans was aimed at a worthier movie.

And now, having watched Maurice Devereaux’s End of the Line, I have even more reason to dislike that other subway slasher, because here’s a unique, timely, and actually scary little horror far more deserving of Internet campaigns.

Quick Plot: A young psyciatric nurse named Karen (Ilona Elkin) sadly accepts the news that one of her patients has thrown herself in front of a subway. Muffins and freaky drawings from the late woman’s files  provide little comfort, and things only get worse when Karen’s subway ride becomes the kind of nightmare every commuter fears. First, there’s the creepy homeless guy leering over her shoulder, followed by the fact that--much like my last night’s commute in the freezing cold--the train seems to be running on a random and inconsistent schedule. To make things worse--okay, horror movie worthy--the train soon hits a delay and Christian fundamentalists with the world’s best cell phone reception embark on a crusade to “save” the souls of fellow straphangers.

Because I love a pleasant surprise and love you, I’m digging out some roadblocks to stick right here:

As a warning: I want to discuss this film, but what made my initial viewing so enjoyable was, in part, the fact that I knew very little about End of the Line. While it doesn’t have a Martyrs-style switcheroo, there is something really neat about some of its unexpected plot developments so if you haven’t seen the film, YOU SHALL NOT PASS.

Or something. Just skip to Rent/Bury/Buy and come back after you’ve followed those instructions. Don’t make me page you.

SPOILER SITY

A disclaimer: There are probably just a handful of subjects I find more fascinating than Doomsday cults. There’s something so strangely horrifying about human beings surrendering everything that seems to make them who they are for some undefined greater being pent on eventually destroying their very existence. Also, I ride the subway every day and am constantly imagining a variety of horror movie scenarios that could occur at any given stop. For these reasons, End of the Line was quite possibly made for me.

Devereaux’s portrayal of the religious fanatics is eerie for a bucketful of reasons. Yes, it’s creepy to see nice middle aged women stabbing straphangers with crucifix knives that belong in a Children of the Corn playpen. It’s also unnerving to note the Hilter Youth-esque jumpsuits and at-peace smiles on every murderous character’s face. More importantly, Devereaux seems to ground the cult in popular Christianity.

I want to tread lightly here and try my best to not make any of my mere blogging comments into attacks on religion. I have no issue with anybody living a life based on personal faith, but those who try to force it on you when you just want to listen to a cuss-heavy podcast on the subway or trick-or-treat for candy rather than doomsday pamphlets aren’t just annoying; they’re judging you by essentially demonstrating that they believe you’re not worthy of heaven. I appreciate how End of the Line’s fanatics wanted to actually help their victims, straight down to apologizing when mass suicide had to take priority over fatal stabbing. 

Back to the controversy I can’t seem to put into words, doomsday cults--and any religious sect that has an end date in their pre-determined future--are terrifying because their members simply can’t value this life as much as the next. If, for example, a world leader believes in the possibility that The Rapture will occur and that when it does, he’ll be judged worthy, what’s to stop him from pushing the button to detonate the next world war? The characters of End of the Line are so confident in their beliefs that none of the physical pain they cause registers as anything other than God’s will. It’s not their actions that makes this a frightening film; it’s their complete lack of regret.

At first, the final moments bothered me as a trite betrayal. Since The Believers and Frailty, I’m far less surprised to discover that the crazed extremist characters in a genre film were right, and more importantly, I’d have been a tad annoyed to feel as though I misjudged everything onscreen for the previous 100 minutes. Thankfully, Devereaux’s ending was far more clever than I had initially realized. Upon listening to some of the extras, it became rather clear--even if nobody is willing to fully admit it--that the sneaking suspicion I had was right: there were no demons. There were, however, some powerfully mixed muffins eaten throughout the film by every character we notice see visions of rubbery monsters, mouthless ghosts, and tunnel dwellers dirtier than mole people. Pass the electric Kool-Aid, we’ve got some tasty spiked pastries that need washing down.

High Points

Although End of the Line doesn’t go too far into the backstories of their villains, the cult members are still individually drawn with the kind of precision rarely seen in horror. From the suddenly unchaste Sarah to the conflicted teenagers, the choice to show that some parishioners had actual doubts added a more human layer to the killings. Gray is always more interesting than black and white, particularly when it comes to morality.

I’m normally immune to jump scares, but for some reason, the very first pop made my drop my nacho

For the most part, Devereax has his main group of protagonists react to the horrors with refreshing believability. As much as we in the audience know to stab first, ask questions later, if any of us couch potatoes were actually in this kind of situation, we would probably find it near impossible to beat a teenager to death with the crowbar quivering in our hands. I appreciated that the commuters were genuinely conflicted over having to resort to homicidal violence. Even the young stud--the first man to kill--spends his last few moments asking for reassurance that he did the right thing. 

Similarly, none of End of the Line’s characters demonstrate the kind of superhuman survivalism often summoned in these types of films. Their action sequences are messy and chaotic, consisting simply of frightened people swinging hand tools at stab-happy Christians. Since we’re not watching SWAT team members or retired boxers, this makes perfect sense

Low Points

Overall, the performances are adequate and nobody stands out to drag the film down, but it also feels as though none fully step forward to add anything overly special to their characterizations

Once I put some of the pieces--or crumbs--together, I was a little more accepting of the final shot, but I still found the last ghastly baddies to feel a tad too Halloween porch ready

Lessons Learned

If you want people to join your cult, perfect a recipe for hallucinogen-laced muffins

1980s style punkettes are pretty damn fierce when the going gets tough

Mental patients are quite talented when it comes to colored pencil artwork. Look at that shading!

Ironically enough, nobody can complete an abortion faster than a Born Again

Always keep mace accessible when riding the subway. You never know when you’ll have to escape the clutches of a horny priest hung up on virginity and the fact that he resembles the homeless love child of Paul Bettany and Quentin Tarantino

In order to seduce a virginal fundamentalist, the secret is to kiss her earlobe

Rent/Bury/Buy

End of the Line is a definite watch, and a possible buy if you find it the right price. The DVD is loaded with extras, including a coy but interesting commentary, thorough making-of featurette, and a few more goodies. It’s not a film I’m return to often, but the original concept and spirited execution defnitely merits a revisit somewhere down the, ahem, line. More importantly, be on the lookout for Devereaux’s next film. Not only does he tell a good story on a meager budget, he also has mastered the art of referencing other masters without being annoying about it. One of my biggest pet peeves in indie horror is when directors think it’s cute to use a famous horror director’s name for a character. It’s not so much a wink wink as it is a smacking-you-in-the-face-with-a-frying-pan-emblazoned-with-an-obvious-reference-on-the-bottom (think “Dr. Savini” from The Dead Next Door). You don’t name a character Argento; you name him after the main sound mixer for a bunch of Argento films. That's the sign of a promising filmmaker.

The Horror of Hype

Genre fans tend to feel a little unpatrioritc pledging allegiance to the same mass-produced flag saluted by 80% of the general public. We’re far more comfortable digging our way through dusty, sometimes crusty DVDs in questionable basement or neon lit video stores than we are sitting amongst the Friday night crowd at the week’s big release. 

It’s no wonder then that movies like Paranormal Activity throw some of us for a loop. How, you ask, could I possibly enjoy the same film that my coworker with the Twilight screensaver has been raving about all month? At the same time, we also get stuck trying to evaluate our own opinions amidst the chokingly thick fog of fanboy enthusiasm that surrounds new cult favorites like Hatchet and Grace. 

So how, you ask, can one navigate the dead-end, it’s-not-as-good-as-people-say labyrinth that is viewer hype? To find a map, we first have to consider the type o’ hype, and I don’t just say that because rhyming is fun.

1.  Long Awaited Hype 

Admit it: you drooled like an overly hydrated zombie when details surrounding Land of the Dead surfaced, just as you giddily brushed off your boomstick at the sound of Sam Raimi returning to his horror roots with Drag Me to Hell. When our childhood heroes reupholster their bloodstained director’s chairs, our own expectations can grow to unreachable heights. Thus, when George Romero makes a decent, if weirdly clean smelling zombie film with a happy ending in the 21st century, we put aside the flaws of the obnoxiously acted Day of the Dead and its own cheat of a final shot in order to blast horror’s indie king for seeming to sell out for CGI and Canada. 

As hard--or maybe impossible--as it is, any film needs to be seen on its own terms and unless it’s in 3D, with no tinted glasses to fog our sight. Sure, it’s depressing to watch Dario Argento continue to roll down a hill of film quality and near impossible to not look up the address of the actress narrating Diary of the Dead in the hopes of slaying her puppies and tearing our her vocal chords, but I promise you that these directors didn’t make these films simply because they hate you. Maybe they’ve lost touch or maybe their visions were simply more startling in another era. Either way, the main thing to remember is that a film should be judged against itself, not your memory of its older brother.

2.  Defensive Hype

There’s a reason nobody makes feel good features documenting the NY Yankees. We don’t care about winners born into luxury, and while not all genre fans can latch onto a sports analogy, everybody loves an underdog. 

Hence, horror loyalists stand on virtual soapboxes to warn passerbys about studio-backed cash cows like Saw while gleefully catching rides on The Midnight Meat Train. Is it fair? In theory, yes, but this comes from a long-suffering Met fan well accustomed to disappointment. Likewise, Lions Gate earned genre fan disapproval when it failed to give a wide release to 2008‘s public transportation terror trip, and I waved my fist in solidarity. 

Then I saw the movie.

While it wasn’t nearly as awful as some recent remade offerings (I’m still washing out my eyeballs for the stain imprinted by Black Xmas)Midnight Meat Train just....wasn’t good. Well-acted and polished, but dank, oddly plotted, and ultimately, quite uninvolving. Aside from battle ready horror fans and Cliver Barker bookworms, would full price ticket buyers really have wanted to spend their Friday night allowance on such an unlikable film? The same could easily be said for Repo! The Genetic Opera, a polarizing rock opera that amassed an army of devotees alongside a migraine suffering horde of conflicted haters.

The best solution I can conjure is to assume nothing. Praise the idea of an original film and support its release for people to actually see, but don’t force yourself to love something that simply isn’t your taste pallet. This leads us to ...

3. But I’m Supposed To Love This, Right?

What do you mean, you didn’t want to marry Hatchet and have its pickaxe babies? And really: what are you doing going out to a Halloween party when you could be home rewatching Trick ‘r Treat, aka The Greatest Horror Film Of All Time, for the ninetieth time this week? 

Of all the hypes out in the cinematic universe, this may be the most difficult to overcome. After two years of nearly universal ravings about a little unreleased horror anthology, it’s hard to watch a film without feeling sadly underwhelmed, angrily disappointed, or unconsciously bullied into submission (remember: Alllllllllllllll the boys love Mandy Lane). 

We could certainly try to build our own Skinner boxes and block out any rumblings from around the genre community, but in the age of blogs, podcasts, and bootlegs, that’s about as realistic as Martyrs getting an Oscar for best foreign film (what, you agree? you didn’t like Martyrs? What kind of fan are you?) Ultimately there is no such thing as a universal opinion, even in a more isolated specimen like the horror community. There’s nothing wrong with not loving a film that makes Fangoria swoon, but try to not let your dislike grow with the positivity of others; don’t hate it more just to match the positive intensity of those who enjoyed it. The best way to handle this is to return to the film several months--or years--after its buzz has been died down. Sometimes, you can only discover what your genuine thoughts are after they don’t seem to matter anymore.

4.  Mainstream Mania

In many ways, Gore Verbinski has earned a rigidly uncomfortable seat for himself in the filmmaker realm of hell. No, the mini pirate boom of the 00s wasn’t that bad, but his fairly big budgeted Americanized take on Ringu is the heavily botoxed grandma when it comes to remakes, aka the Scourge of 21st Century Horror. And to think, most of 2002‘s The Ring‘s impressive box office return came straight out of the pockets of...well...everyone. Men, women, eighth graders...you couldn’t throw your popcorn without hitting someone raving about that randomly scary film they caught in the theaters, much as

Paranormal Activity and 1999’s The Blair Witch Project commandeered a normally neutral audience immune to the haunts of quiet horror.

So where does that leave you? You can’t be the only one in the office without a take on why Michael was standing in the corner, and more importantly, you may be the only one with the sense to explain that no dear, Heather, Michael, & Josh are NOT still lost in the Burketsville woods. Plus, if you avoid a film just because everybody else didn’t, you might actually miss a good movie.

Think of the experience like dining in a fancy, highly recommended but seemingly overrated restaurant you’ve yet to patron. You have to make reservations. Wait 45 minutes and still end up in a less than desirable seating area, then deal with rude waiters. After all that, even a decent meal can’t live up to the hype. Likewise, when watching a too-talked about film, one must be careful to judge it on its own terms. Any extra effort only adds to the aggravation and inevitable unmet expectation. 

In other words, wait a month into a film’s run and hit up an economy priced matinee. Make sure that when you give the film your less-than-premium-price dollars, you can judge the film on its own merits, rather than the experience that surrounded your viewing.

5. Late-to-the-Party Classics

We’ve all hear our parents and grandparents wax nostalgic on how Frankenstein lurched through their nightmares and Psycho made Janet Leigh swear off showering, but depending on your initiation process into genre cinema, many older classics can fall flat on modern eyes. Some timeless films work in any era, but when you’ve eaten cereal shaped like smiling vampires, it’s hard to accept that Bela Lugosi’s Dracula was once a force to be feared.

In order to enjoy a film that’s been written about for 30+ years, it helps to understand why it’s still relevant in today’s cinematic universe. Something like Fritz Lang’s Metropolis, for example, may seem rather--well, silent--upon a blind watch, but pop in the special edition after after Blade Runner, Total Recall, or Dark City and note some of the architectural inspiration. From Birth to JoshuaRosemary’s Baby as the matriarch of eerily sterile NYC thrillers. Sometimes, the only way to fully appreciate an older, possibly dated film is to go backwards and watch with your head, not heart.

So which films have you hated due to humongous hype, or felt never had a true chance in the face of overexposure? Share your thoughts but remember: don’t get too excited. Then I’ll have to figure out what the Hype-Over-Hype-Type-Hype means, and that gives me a bigger headache than hearing Bill Moseley duet with Paris Hilton.

As If the Subway System Wasn't Horrible Enough, Now There's ...

If you’ve followed news in the horror world last summer, you may recall the release drama of The Midnight Meat Train. Produced by Lions Gate and based on a Clive Barker short story, this film was intended for a full theatrical release before being yanked for less-than-desired showings in a handful of dollar theaters across the States. Barker barked and horror devotees complained. Saw V and The Strangers took the blame. Was this another case of shafting original horror to showcase easy money sequels and remakes?


It pains me to say this, but The Midnight Meat Train is not the long lost gem we hoped for. It’s skillfully made by director Ryuhei Kitamura, with clean visuals and more than adequate performances. The basic plot and setting offer oodles of potential. And yet, for the entire running time, I found myself becoming more and more frustrated with everything that was and wasn’t onscreen.


Quick Plot: In an unnamed city, struggling vegetarian photographer Leon (Bradley Cooper) learns from the wisdom of famed art dealer Brooke Shields that in order to break out, he needs to take pictures of truly disturbing content without turning away. She knows this, of course, because of her early experiences with the famed Basquiat (we knew Shields was a child star and went to Princeton, but did you also know she also discovered one of NY’s greatest street artists when she was an adventurous 14 year old?).

Leon takes her advice and hits the streets, focusing mainly on the immaculately clean subway. As luck would have it, a few thugs are attempting to rape a pretty young woman right in perfect view of Leon’s non digital camera (and the very conveniently placed security CCTV). Leon has his shot and the woman is on her way to a conveniently patient late night train. The next day, Leon discovers a newspaper story chronicling her disappearance. A visit to the cops involves weird double speak and somehow inspires Leon on a vigilante mission to uncover this mystery, much to the chagrin of his far too understanding girlfriend.

Enter the Forrest Gumpish Vinnie Jones as the best dressed serial killer in mass transit. Sadly, he’s also the blandest, wearing a dull scowl that couldn’t be farther from the charismatic psychopath of The Condemned or even his supporting work in X-Men 3.

Deep sigh.


The Midnight Meat Train is not the worst film you’ll see, but I found it to be an incredibly disheartening film experience. 103 minutes isn’t long, but when extended stretches are devoted to empty montages, it feels like eternity (sort of the difference between an express and local train). The title calls back to something gritty and mean, like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but the film’s primary problem is just how clean it is. I’ve never seen a subway that shines with such regularly applied stainless steel cleaner and the digitalized gore is so noticeably unreal, none of the violence lands until the very last scene. By then, it’s a little too late to reinvest.


High Points
Surprisingly enough, the romance between Cooper and Leslie Bibb is quite believable and affectionate, providing a solid emotional base for the finale to land

Low Points
...but the fully clothed sex scene is supposed to do what exactly?



Cooper is fine enough as Leon, but his insanely fast slide into insanity? obsession? paranoia? is so messily done that it’s hard to really want to follow him on his increasingly dumb endeavors underground

Early in the film, Leon talks about how he pulls so much inspiration from the big bad city. That’s fine and mood-setting, but it would certainly help if the city WE see wasn’t drenched in shiny blue coloring. Of course, we could also SEE the city rather than the ridiculously clean metro and one friendly steakhouse


Until the last act, there is nothing actually frightening happening. We don’t know any of the victims, so seeing an extra or two sitting on a train and then get chopped up by a computer effect simply has no emotional impact

Lessons Learned
The only way to survive an encounter with Vinnie Jones is to first sell him candy


Searching for keywords on microfiche is much easier and faster than using Google


Never assist your friends in breaking into a rundown motel where a homicidal butcher allegedly lives; the consequences are just not fun

Bloody floors are incredibly slippery


Rent/Bury/Buy
I really wanted to like this movie but as seen in my extensive low points, that’s far too difficult to do. The performances are better than average and the final scene does start to get interesting, but the coldly empty blood and story inanity is just not enjoyable. How, for example, would any city’s subway system still be functioning if multiple straphangers disappear EVERY SINGLE NIGHT? I’m not one to nitpick plot details, but when the core concept seems so unruly, it just makes everything else that much more glaringly careless. That being said, those of you with a genuine interest in visual design of modern horror may find this particular approach interesting. It’s different and definitely made by someone with artistic vision; I just don’t think that style fits the nature of this film in the least.