The best scenes in the film involve the mushroom people with their pitch-shifted slow mo laughter and the amazing, corrosively sexual sight of the mushrooms growing out of the moss, larger and larger, breathing in and out, like inflatable penis dolls. Whoa, was that too much association for you? Grow up, these are Japanese! You know what Cibo Matto sang:
We were born in the 60's
You made war with the Vietnamese.
We love LSD! We die easily!
Can we just say c'est la vie?
Do I digress? Cibo Matto are my age, they know the drill. We were born in the late 1960s and we're still wondering where the hell the party or the war or the drugs all went. MATANGO, dig, was made even before the party really started, 1963.
Alas, those awesome scenes are only a small portion of the film. The psychedelic aspect is kind of subsumed into the horror of transformation, as those who eat the fungi become the fungi, but wait... not to kill the others, but to kill their souls... slowly... and rather than explore that change we concentrate instead on the intolerant last man standing, the narrator relating his story in the Ishameal-esque framing device. Thus we sidestep many lightshows and hallucinations (though there are a few) to focus on quick-moving, exposition-filled narrative, one familiar to horror fans: a yacht with class-related tensions between crew and rich hedonist owner; a freaky sudden hurricane-level storm; an uncharted, seemingly uninhabited island; mounting sexual tension; and hidden monsters. True to horror movie form there's a lot of exploring - we spend quite a bit of time looking around moldy freighter interiors, but there's lots of great outdoor rain scenes. By the end you may feel the need to change your socks, or blow-dry your shoes.
Overall, the greed and "collapse of decency" elements trump the trippy stuff so those in search of a less angry fix might want to keep browsing. That said, the end more than makes up for it all with a blatant pro-drug message that succinctly damns modern society as being far more corrosive and wrong than any entheogenic Japanese version of ATTACK OF THE CRAB MONSTERS mind-meld (and this was 1963, a solid four years before the Summer of Love).
I remember seeing this on late night UHF TV a lot in the 1970s, in a butchered, dubbed edition known as ATTACK OF THE MUSHROOM PEOPLE and always found it a tedious, weird late night sleep-inducer but seeing MATANGO now on beautiful widescreen DVD, I wonder what the hell was going on in that UHF version? Was it on purpose that it made no sense? Then again, I was very young, and usually half-asleep; the rain outside hypnotizing me into a moldy funk. If you were ever funky like that, you'll want to score yourself some MATANGO.
PS - It would make a 'good' triple bill with SHE DEMONS and MESA OF THE LOST WOMEN!