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3/17/2019 Event Review: Long Beach Comic Expo @ Long Beach Convention Center, Long Beach 2/16/19Read Now  Where else can you spot Spidey taking a selfie with Cinderella?! Long Beach Comic Expo 2019! REGGIE PERALTA Creative Director - Los Angeles Arts Society I didn’t grow up on comic books, but, like many of my generation, I grew up on shows based on comics. Spider-Man, X-Men, Batman: The Animated Series, and even that goofy Mask spin-off were all regular viewing during my childhood and, to this day, remain some of my earliest TV memories. Even today at the ripe old age of twenty-something, there’s a primitive part of my brain that still lights up at the thought of costumed heroes and villains duking it out for the fate of the world, humanity, or what have you. Fortunately, it turns out that I’m not the only one, as my LA Arts’ partner Alex and I’s visit to the Long Beach Comic Expo this past February made very clear. The first thing I saw when I got there was a fleet of cars modified to look like ones central to nerd culture. Among the autos was a DeLorean decked out like the one in Back to the Future (but thankfully not plutonium-powered like in the movie), a hearse made to look like the Ecto-1 from the 2016 Ghostbusters, retro and modern Bumblebee-esque Camaros filled with Transformers memorabilia, and a Jurassic Park jeep and SUV blaring John Williams’ iconic theme. I’m not really a car guy but the geek in me internally squeed and thought it was an awesome way to pump guests up and get them in touch with their inner kid before they even set foot inside the convention itself.  Fleet of awesome cars lined the entry-way into the convention. The security people checking members of the press (they had a separate line for journalists, a nifty little perk) as they entered the center were noticeably polite, treating me comfortably as they scanned me and telling me to enjoy the expo when they finished. This pleasant disposition was shared by the staff inside as well, with the guard who directed me to the restroom even wishing me a good day when I came out and headed back onto the vendors’ floor. I shouldn’t be so surprised since my interactions with staff at Long Beach Convention Center have always been pleasant as far as I can remember, but it stands out to me because people working such events aren’t always so agreeable. Just making the extra effort to treat guests in a civil manner goes a long way in making them feel like, well, guests, which is exactly how I felt. The exhibitors were similarly friendly for the most part, though there were a few exceptions. One booth selling Godzilla t-shirts caught my eye but the guy running it had little interest in conversation, answering my questions with flat “yeah”s and preoccupying himself with other business while I tried to engage him. I thought it strange that a vendor selling merch of something as niche as Godzilla would begrudge potentially interested customers trying to engage them about the focus of their product, but hey, what do I know about customer service. Most of the other exhibitors, however, were more than happy to talk about whatever they had to offer. Writer Preston Poulter, for instance, was eager to discuss his comic series’ White Lily and Guinevere and the Divinity Factory, explaining the unique historical background of the former and the intriguing philosophical undertones of the latter. Not only was he excited to elaborate on his comics, he was also receptive to my thoughts on them, agreeing when I said Guinevere’s themes of individualism versus collectivism were “very Randian” and acknowledging the influence of the Fountainhead author on his work. Also agreeable was comic illustrator Agnes Garbowska, who Alex and I regrettably didn’t get to talk to for long. A particularly persistent fan swamped her with commissions right then and there, so she had her hands full with pencils and paper the whole time we were at her booth. But, she took the time to take a break from the commissions when her friend Miki (who was exceptionally friendly in her own right) let her know I just wanted a signature for the My Little Pony postcard that I bought for my nieces, kindly thanking me for my purchase and, perhaps, my patience as well.  Alex / Captain Planet-Pool (@skapool) / Reggie But it wasn’t just comic authors and artists hawking their larger-than-life wares. We were pleasantly surprised to meet and chat up Jackie Dallas, the actress who played the girlfriend of the teacher in Stranger Things, as well as get selfies with a bountiful bevy of cosplayers. From Darth Vader and the forces of the Galactic Empire to the Original Series and Deep Space Nine iterations of Starfleet, and from Tony Stark to Princess Mononoke, it’s safe to say that almost all provinces of nerdom were represented at the event, and with such pride too! Looking at all the costumes, one couldn’t help being blown away by the time and effort that their owners must have put into making them. Meeting superheroes like Batman and Captain Planet or even villains like The Riddler and, say, Lego Lord Voldemort may be the stuff of dreams, but through the craftsmanship of the cosplayers we met, we were able to briefly enjoy such childhood fantasies as if they were real life. Further compounding the childish sense of nostalgia were the assorted other vendors selling and displaying art, toys, and similar goodies. Miles Toys and Treasures had an impressive selection of vintage action figures from media as disparate as Mighty Morphin Power Rangers and Monty Python and the Holy Grail, a collection made all the more grand by the fact that almost all the figures were still in their original packaging. Another booth offered a charming combination of custom Lego mini-figures and dummy weapons (life-size, not Lego-size). Other groups like the Sci-Fi Coalition and Star Trek The Fleet offered guests civic-minded venues for exploring their media interests as well as participating in community service with other fans. Having catalogued all these sights and wonders, it kills me to say that I wasn’t able to go both days, leaving Alex to fend for himself on day two. And as if this wasn’t bad enough, that day he bumped into none other than Rachel Hollon, our very own Elvira for our House on Haunted Hill Halloween party this past October. As it turned out, she had been there for both days, but somehow she slipped past us with her killer-diller, gender-bender Han Solo cosplay the day I went. I suppose I can only let this be a lesson to make the necessary arrangements to attend both days when next year’s expo rolls around.  Rachel Hollon (@facesbyrachie) & Alex Speaking of which, I’m not sure if I can wait for next year! I like to think I keep up with pop culture happenings and going-ons, but I haven’t felt the way I did after attending LBCE in a long time. The cosplays, the conversations, and the quality of service by those working all made for a magical experience that brought out the kid in me and whetted my appetite for more conventions. WonderCon is around the corner and Comic-Con is coming up in the summer, but Long Beach Comic Expo is the high, memorable bar by which I will judge all others.
Photos by Alex Martinez and Reggie Peralta The views expressed in this review are those of the author’s and not necessarily the views of LA Arts Society. Let us know what you think of it in the comments section below. For more reviews, recaps, events, and other news from LA Arts Society, sign up for our newsletter and follow us on Facebook and Instagram. If you’d like to book an event, volunteer with LA Arts Society, or have any other questions, feel free to reach us on our Contact page. 2/25/2019 Book Review: LOST IN THE FUNHOUSE: THE LIFE AND MIND OF ANDY KAUFMAN by Bill ZehmeRead Now  REGGIE PERALTA Creative Director - Los Angeles Arts Society Like many angsty, alienated teens, I spent a good deal of high school finding solace and inspiration in stand-up comedy. I eagerly devoured the material and philosophy of the obvious greats like George Carlin and Bill Hicks, but it was the madcap antics of Andy Kaufman, prodigious in their planning and calculated in their cringeworthiness, that spoke most immediately to me. So in thrall to the mad genius of the reluctant Taxi star and self-proclaimed Inter-Gender Wrestling Champion of the World was I that I kept a picture of him taped to the inside of my binder, a little touch that earned me a compliment from a substitute teacher on one occasion. Having established all this, it gives me a certain nostalgic pleasure to have read Bill Zehme’s Lost in the Funhouse: The Life and Mind of Andy Kaufman. I’d been meaning to get to it for some time, all the while asking myself, “How did anybody write a run-of-the-mill, ink-on-paper biography about someone as strange and full of life as Andy Kaufman?” The answer, as Funhouse demonstrates, is they didn’t. Zehme adopts an unconventional narrative voice that, rather than clinically recounting and commenting on the moments and happenings that made up his subject’s life, reflects the childlike whimsy that Kaufman himself embodied. The first few pages of the book, for instance, refer to his parents Janice and Stanley Kaufman simply as “Mommy” and “Daddy”, while his maternal grandparents Cy and Pearl Bernstein are “Papu Cy” and “Grandma Pearl” respectively. Although this voice becomes less pronounced as Andy grows older (“Mommy” and “Daddy” give way to “Janice” and “Stanley" early on, for example), the book retains an experimental and emotional quality that adds a strong sense of drama to the material and further invests the reader in it. Another unusual technique that the author makes superb use of is two motifs repeated over the course of the book. The first is his bookending of certain sentences with variants of “and that was, um, fine”, a phrase that captures the awkwardly-amusing ambiguity that Kaufman’s work provoked in audiences. The second motif, used to chillingly great effect, is his seemingly random interjecting of passages describing a cough that the comedian was just never quite able to shake, ominously hinting at his eventual succumbing to cancer. These recurring elements not only heighten the aforementioned sense of drama but give it a certain musicality as well, something that Kaufman, an avowed “song and dance man”, would likely have appreciated. Regarding the research that Zehme conducted for Funhouse, it’s almost staggering to learn that he spent six years conducting interviews and gathering material. At a little over 350 pages long, one might find this hard to believe but, nevertheless, should respect that so much time and thought went into it. Indeed, Zehme’s studies of his subject (including stints as a producer for a Taxi retrospective and A Comedy Salute for Andy Kaufman) bore considerable fruit in the form of interviews with key figures from Kaufman’s life as well as observers and admirers of his work. The presence of the main players like Kaufman’s parents and siblings, his manager George Shapiro, and comedy partner Bob Zmuda are all givens, but Zehme also includes comments and stories by such notable others as Dustin Hoffman, Chevy Chase, Sarah Jessica Parker, Rodney Dangerfield, and Carl Reiner (who is shown to have had the distinction of introducing Shapiro to Kaufman.) One appearance that might take readers particularly by surprise is John Gray, who, before taking the self-help world by storm with Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus, acted as a counselor to Kaufman and his loved ones after his fatal diagnosis. Some might be also surprised by how little Kaufman’s partner Lynne Marguiles (memorably portrayed by Courtney Love in the Jim Carrey-starring biopic Man on the Moon) figures into the story, but in hindsight it shouldn’t be since they were only together a year before his death (a fact that the movie plays loose with.) Still, as his significant other, she undoubtedly had a unique view of the funhouse that very few others probably got to see, so it’s not unreasonable to wish more attention had been devoted to Marguiles and her memories of Andy. In this terribly hip age of Adult Swim humor and contrived quirkiness, it’s both startling and satisfying to see that Andy was, at least as Funhouse tells it, a genuinely strange person. The skeptical may assume that his off-stage weirdness was just another put-on by the master prankster, but the evidence from his childhood suggests that he was out there from the very beginning. His habit of happily gibbering to himself in class, his penchant for staring off into space with those big blue eyes of his, and a twin brother visible only to himself indicate an experience and understanding of reality that was possibly situated somewhere on the autistic spectrum, leading one to wonder how differently Kaufman’s life and craft might have turned out had a diagnosis for autism existed then. One might take it as a criticism of the book that the picture it draws of its subject is murky and vague, but it shouldn’t be construed as such since Kaufman was himself murky and vague. We get significant glimmers of insight into what was going on in his mind or what he was trying for like when we read the abrasive voice he used for Tony Clifton sounded suspiciously like his father’s when he got mad or that the Uncle Andy’s Funhouse production crew felt he acted and sounded just a little too heartfelt during his talk with Howdy Doody, but there is no moment where the reader suddenly goes “bingo!” and understands Kaufman on a fundamental level. Of course, it’s hard to imagine any explanation given for Kaufman’s behavior and personality (or, perhaps more aptly, personalities) being satisfying in any meaningful sense, so perhaps that question is one we’re better off leaving, like many others surrounding him, unanswered. But chances are anyone reading an Andy Kaufman biography isn’t expecting answers to such “who, what, why” questions. The real metric for such an endeavor is how much of Andy’s spirit the title is able to capture and replicate on each page. Judging by this standard, Lost in the Funhouse, with its well-executed eccentricities and its unexpected tenderness, is an astonishing success that is unlikely to be equaled any time soon. The views expressed in this review are those of the author’s and not necessarily the views of LA Arts Society. Let us know what you think of it in the comments section below. For more reviews, recaps, events, and other news from LA Arts Society, sign up for our newsletter and follow us on Facebook and Instagram. If you’d like to book an event, volunteer with LA Arts Society, or have any other questions, feel free to reach us on our Contact page. 1/17/2019 Event Recap: GODZILLA (1954)/Steve Ryfle & Ed Godziszewski Q&A @ The Frida Cinema, Santa Ana 12/15/18Read Now  Steve Ryfle & Ed Godziszewski signing books for fans. REGGIE PERALTA Creative Director - Los Angeles Arts Society It’s hard to believe, but it’s been a month since Los Angeles Arts Society hosted its wildly successful screening of Ishiro Honda’s Godzilla (1954) at my workplace, The Frida Cinema, in Santa Ana! We had a tremendous turnout for the movie on its own, but almost everybody stayed for the Q&A afterwards with Honda biographers and the night’s guests of honor, Steve Ryfle and Ed Godziszewski, as well! This is hardly a small feat as it is, but it’s an even greater accomplishment considering my own past experience with Orange County Godzilla screenings. The last time I saw Godzilla in an OC theater, there was probably four people in the audience. Two of those four were my brother and I. For our event, however, almost 100 people showed up, with one couple even showing up a whole two hours early (a smart move on their part, as they got dibs on one of the five or so posters we were giving out). The crowd was a mix of young and old as well as the initiated and the uninitiated: some said they were only vaguely acquainted with the Big G, while others said they watched his movies when they first hit theaters. Regardless of how familiar they were with Godzilla or when they first saw his films, they were equally enthusiastic about the movie and simply being there. I was enthusiastic too, but as enthusiastic as I was, I didn’t get to watch the film (what with production matters to attend to and all.) Yes, I’ve seen it a million times before, and yes, it wouldn’t do for an event runner to sit in on their own show, but still the fanboy in me wishes that there had been enough down time for me to at least sit in on a decent portion of it. The most I got was a brief look near the end of the film, just enough to let Steve and Ed know that we would be up soon. From the little I saw though, I thought the DCP we used looked good. Ed himself stepped into the theater at one point and, after taking in a good chunk of the movie and returning outside, went as far to say that it looked great. I’m kind of curious as to whether it was as good or better than the Criterion Blu-ray used at the Japanese American National Museum’s screening, but given Ed’s expertise (as well as the fact that he’s one of the few people who’s probably seen Godzilla more than me), I’ll settle for being impressed that he was impressed. Once the movie finished, we had to move quickly and get chairs and mics set up for the Q&A, so I didn’t get to take in the raffle as smoothly as I would have liked to but the little I did catch was heartening. At this point, the raffle was already a minor success, with 16 tickets (or 32, counting the free ones we gave for every two bought by the same person) having been sold over the course of the event. But the winning couple’s reaction made it a memorable moment, with the female half of the pair screaming in excitement when my friend and partner Alex called their number and her hubby running up to the front of the theater to collect their loot. The momentum kept rolling right along and thank goodness it did, because the next segment of the program was our Q&A with Steve and Ed (and moderated by me). As you can imagine, much of my night was spent fretting about the Q&A and hoping to God that I was ready for it. I felt anxiety right as I ran on the stage when, suddenly but thankfully, it vanished as I introduced our guests and then asked them about their respective first times seeing it.  Steve Ryfle & Ed Godziszewski fielding questions after the movie. Steve and Ed were both so thorough in their answers that I only had to ask four for them to address the subjects I was interested in, allowing me to turn it over to the audience quicker than I expected to and give them more time to ask our friendly neighborhood Godzilla experts their own questions. People asked about Eiji Tsuburaya’s dazzling special effects work, the various costumes used for Godzilla, 2016’s Shin Godzilla, and how the series went from the sorrowful horror of the original to the family-friendly absurdity of later entries like Son of Godzilla. Considering that I had a hard time finding anybody interested in Godzilla in Orange County when I was growing up, I was blown away by the specificity of the audience’s questions as well as the in-depth knowledge of the franchise they demonstrated. But I was even more blown away by what followed. After escorting Steve and Ed back to their table in the lobby, I was amazed by the sight of the audience swarming in behind us to buy books, magazines, and toys as well as meet and take selfies with them. One of the attendees was especially moved by the experience, with her even crying tears of joy as she spoke to our guests of honor. As if to add a cherry on top, her daughter would later come up to me to tell me how much it meant to her that her mother was able to not only see Godzilla on the big screen but to experience it the way she did that night. And it really was a special experience for everyone, least of all me. While bringing Godzilla back to Santa Ana had long been a dream of mine, it wouldn’t have been the triumph that it was without the invaluable assistance of LA Arts Society’s volunteers to make it run smoothly and the tireless legwork of Alex to make it happen in the first place. I also have to extend a big round of thanks to Steve and Ed for making time to join us (and flying all the way from Chicago in Ed’s case) and to The Frida for opening their doors to us. It’s hard to say for sure where LA Arts Society will go from here, but with Godzilla: King of the Monsters set to hit theaters in a couple months, who’s to say that this will be the last time the big gray lizard stomps through the OC?  The team that helped make this screening possible. Photos by Keefer Blakeslee. The views expressed in this recap are those of the author’s and not necessarily the views of LA Arts Society. Let us know what you think of it in the comments section below. For more recaps, reviews, events, and other news from LA Arts Society, sign up for our newsletter and follow us on Facebook and Instagram. If you’d like to book an event, volunteer with LA Arts Society, or have any other questions, feel free to reach us on our Contact page.
 Nostalgic Nebula String Quartet REGGIE PERALTA Creative Director - Los Angeles Arts Society November and early December may have been busy for Los Angeles Arts Society with preparation and production of our successful screening of Godzilla, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t make time for appreciating the work of others! Au contraire, I made time to see Nostalgic Nebula’s screening of The Addams Family at the Frida Cinema just two weeks before our own event! Hosted by my friend Cody Chavez, the show sounded like great fun to me and, having attended any number of his previous events from Killer Klowns from Outer Space to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, I went in with high expectations. Having established this, it gives me great pleasure to say my expectations were exceeded right off the bat. Opening the show was the Nostalgic Nebula String Quartet, performing a stirring arrangement of the original Addams Family theme by Vic Mizzy as well as selections from Marc Shaiman’s score for the film. The original theme is a goofy song, but thanks to conductor Florence Chang’s direction and the quartet’s musicianship, they added a level of spirit to the music that one doesn’t really associate with The Addams Family. The point where this was most palpable was the reprise of the original theme, with the musicians playing with such emotion that it was almost incongruous with the comedic romp that followed. I’ve seen the quartet perform at other Nostalgic Nebula events, but I don’t think I’ve ever been quite as wowed by them as I was this time around. Following the opening performance was a short but fun seance. Cody led the audience as they lifted electronic candles handed out at the door and tried to make contact with Uncle Fester. While we did manage to make contact with a spirit, it was the wrong Christopher Lloyd character: we reached none other than Doc Brown from Back to the Future, playfully realized through audio played over the theater’s speakers. The whole thing probably lasted a minute or so, but it was a fun little touch that helped viewers get in the mood of the movie. I’m going to be honest and admit that prior to this event, I had never seen The Addams Family before. Heck, I’ve never even seen a full episode of the show (I was more of a Munsters guy growing up). I HAD seen Addams Family Values though, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I expected the original to appeal to me the same way, but although I liked it, I couldn’t help but feel that the sequel was superior. Interestingly, I would later learn that this seems to be the consensus among fans of the movies, with the macabre, biting humor of the sequel gelling more with viewers than the absurdity of the original. That being said, I liked both films and appreciated the opportunity to see the first on the big screen with a crowd that also seemed to really appreciate it. Speaking of the crowd, some people had the bright idea of coming in costume, with one couple dressing up as a very convincing Gomez and Morticia Addams. If I had been more familiar with the film, I think I might have joined in and come as Tully, the incompetently-treacherous lawyer played by Dan Hedaya (who played another lawyer in the form of Cher Horowitz’s dad in Clueless). Aside from a group picture taken at the end, there wasn’t really any part of the program that emphasized the costumes but it was heartening to see people getting into the spirit of the show and contributing in their own small ways to make it pop. Overall, it seemed like the crowd wanted more, because quite a few people hung around in the lobby after the film like they were expecting someone to direct them to the nearest bar or something. I myself ended up in extended conversation with a few of them, a good indicator of the communal energy in the room considering that making small talk with strangers doesn’t come easily to me. What I think it needed was an after party, not because it would make the event (everything described above already did that) but because it would cap it off so to speak. It would turn out that I wasn’t the only one who considered this idea, and I certainly anticipate something like it being added to future Nostalgic Nebula events. Of course, I anticipate future Nostalgic Nebula’s events in general, it’s just that I anticipate them even more so in the wake of the high notes hit by this one. The Mummy (1999) is next on their slate and I plan to see that as well on 1/4/19, but I like to think that they’ll be able to screen Addams Family Values at some point down the line and make it a reunion to remember! Just click on the following link for more information on Nostalgic Nebula's upcoming "The Mummy (1999)" screening. The Mummy (1999) Nostalgic Nebula The views expressed in this review are those of the author’s and not necessarily the views of LA Arts Society. Let us know what you think of it in the comments section below. For more reviews, events, and other news from LA Arts Society, sign up for our newsletter and follow us on Facebook and Instagram. If you’d like to book an event, volunteer with LA Arts Society, or have any other questions, feel free to reach us on our Contact page. 12/2/2018 Event Review: GODZILLA (1954) @ Japanese American National Museum, Los Angeles 10/25/18Read Now 1954 Godzilla - Outdoor Screening at Japanese American National Museum - Los Angeles, CA 10/25/18 REGGIE PERALTA Creative Director - Los Angeles Arts Society When I learned that the Japanese American National Museum would be holding an outdoor screening of Godzilla (or Gojira, in its original Japanese), I had already pitched the idea of doing our own screening of the monster movie classic to Alex, my friend and LA Arts Society’s Founding Director. Coming off the heels of our screening of the Elvira’s Movie Macabre presentation of House on Haunted Hill, I thought Godzilla was a good follow-up in that it had a similar cult appeal yet was different enough from Elvira that it would feel fresh, perhaps even pleasantly surprising to potential viewers. I expected it to be a tough sell, but Alex accepted it with enthusiasm and the next thing I knew, we were not only drawing up Godzilla plans but also on our way up to LA to see the Museum’s own screening. In another funny coincidence, just days before the event, I had reached out to Steve Ryfle, one of the co-authors of Ishiro Honda: A Life in Film, from Godzilla to Kurosawa, to see if he would be interested in appearing at our screening. Imagine my surprise and delight when the event staff announced that he would be introducing the movie and, lo and behold, he stepped up and began discussing the context in which the movie was made. He didn’t speak for very long, but he got a lot in within the few minutes he was up there and, impressively, drew attention to parts of the film that modern viewers usually overlook. No, not the political subtext of atomic testing and radiation poisoning (over which countless articles and commentaries have pored over), but rather, the abysmal living conditions that the Japanese people endured during and after World War II. Sure, there are plenty of indications that Tokyo is a modern city teeming with life and culture such as electric locomotives, neon signs, and young people partying, but there’s also towering firestorms, military men mobilizing, and civilians dead or dying, shadows of the war that a handful of men dragged Japan into and made its people pay for. It’s difficult not only for viewers watching the movie over 60 years later but for American viewers especially to appreciate these aspects of the film, yet it’s necessary to understand the place it was coming from. Regarding the presentation of the film, it looked pretty darn solid, or at least as solid as a 50’s Japanese film that wasn’t directed by Akira Kurosawa could. My suspicion is that they used the Criterion Collection Blu-ray, which uses what is almost certainly the best print of the film available. Non-fans would do well to know that this is a major improvement over the presentation offered by the videotapes that I, like many others, grew up watching Godzilla (or rather, the American edit Godzilla: King of the Monsters!) on. Pillarboxing (or reverse letterboxing) was in full effect but this was necessitated by the film’s original aspect ratio of 1:37:1, a long-standardized format that had started on its way out when the project was shot. On the audio front, the movie sounded great, playing out over speakers flanking the screen. It was loud and clear enough that I was able to tell what was going on even as Alex and I chatted with Mr. Ryfle off to the side of the event. There was a bit of competition in the form of cars, helicopters, and, at one point, a yelling homeless man, but the film was subtitled anyway and we had no trouble hearing Akira Ifukube’s masterful score or Godzilla’s foreboding roars and footsteps. Being an outdoor screening, there wasn’t a snack bar or proper concessions area. There was, however, a taco truck, parked towards the periphery of the museum grounds so as to minimize distraction from the film. Although I didn’t get anything, I appreciated that the option was there even as there was any number of restaurants and shops already in the area. It showed proactive thinking on the part of the organizers and a willingness to go beyond the bare minimum of planning and running an event to make it a fuller, more memorable experience. The crowd was pretty diverse and largely respectful of the film. Someone chuckled at a few moments like the jet miniatures and female lead Momoko Kochi’s crying, but everyone else was mostly silent and responsive to the different emotional beats that director Ishiro Honda tried to hit. There was a kid who kept asking questions throughout the show, but he wasn’t too loud and in any case I suppose I should be happy that he was expressing interest in what he was seeing. For what it’s worth, my parents weren’t in the habit of taking me to see black-and-white Japanese movies when I was that age, so I can hardly imagine that I’d conduct myself nearly as well as he did. There was only one real shortcoming that night and it, funnily enough, was Alex and I’s fault rather than anyone involved with the event. Originally, we were planning to catch the museum’s Kaiju vs. Heroes exhibition before the show but time and traffic conspired to get us there right as the movie was about to start. I was kind of bummed because I was looking forward to checking out all the vintage toys and action figures on display, but with better planning we’ll be able to catch it another day. With any luck, we’ll also be back to the Japanese American National Museum for more screenings like this one. There’s a whole sub-genre of Japanese cinema for them to dive into, maybe even create a series around (Tokusatsu Tuesdays, anyone?) Not only that, but the laid-back nature of the event and the smoothness with which it was run inspires confidence in the ability of the planners to hold similar ones in the future. I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed for more like it, that’s for sure. The views expressed in this review are those of the author’s and not necessarily the views of LA Arts Society. Let us know what you think of it in the comments section below. For more reviews, events, and other news from LA Arts Society, sign up for our newsletter and follow us on Facebook and Instagram. If you’d like to book an event, volunteer with LA Arts Society, or have any other questions, feel free to reach us on our Contact page.  From Left to Right: Steve Ryfle, Reggie Peralta, & Alex Martinez.  Matango (1963) REGGIE PERALTA Creative Director - Los Angeles Arts Society Matango Review Please be advised that the following review contains spoilers. If you’re a fan of Godzilla or Japanese cinema in general, then chances are you’ve at least heard of Matango. One of a number of non-kaiju science fiction productions from Toho, the film was the first of director Ishiro Honda’s monster movies to not receive an American theatrical release, being packaged in edited form for television instead as Attack of the Mushroom People. Although it enjoyed a decent half-life as a midnight movie, Matango has enjoyed a certain resurgence in the past decade or so, with critics and audiences alike regarding it as something of an under-appreciated classic. This development was obviously occasioned by the original Japanese version being made available to Western audiences in the 2000’s, but Honda’s own regard for the film (he reportedly named it as his favorite project) as well as the aborted efforts of one Steven Soderbergh to remake it likely played some small part as well. Against this backdrop of critical reevaluation and with revived interest in the Godzilla franchise that Honda helped mold, it’s worth seeing if Matango warrants the critical evaluation. Despite what the American TV title might have led you to believe, the primary threat comes not from the mushroom people or any attacks they launch but from the protagonists themselves, shipwrecked on a remote island and unable to contact the outside world. Indeed, the first two thirds of the film play more like an adult version of Lord of the Flies (the film adaptation of which, incidentally, came out the same year as Matango) with light horror elements thrown in than any of the other sci-fi films Honda made in the 50’s and 60’s. Whether this is a good thing or a bad thing depends on how invested viewers feel in the characters and their plight: those who do may appreciate the time spent developing them and focusing on their interactions while those who don’t may find themselves bored and wondering when the titular monsters are going to show up. I found myself inclining to the latter tendency, but I recognize other viewers’ mileage on this matter, so to speak, may vary. As time goes on and chances of rescue look increasingly remote, tensions between the socially-stratified castaways boil over and they fight over food, control, and even, as I’ll discuss later in this review, the attractive young singer Mami (Kumi Mizuno). This breakdown is all very Hobbesian in its brutishness and nastiness, but it’s not at all subtle, with one of the characters outright stating in a voiceover that man reverts to a state like theirs in the absence of civilization. Considering the clarity with which the preceding events made this point, one wonders why anyone thought it necessary to verbalize it. Though the movie takes place primarily on the island, it’s bookended by shots of the neon-lit Tokyo skyline, creatively realized by special effects guru Eiji Tsuburaya’s miniatures. A seemingly random sight to open and close on at first glance, but in the context of both the events in between and the film’s final lines, it takes on new significance: namely, that there is no difference between the phantasmagoric world of the Matango, with its encroaching mists and maddening laughter, and the consumer-driven existence of post-war Japan, with its bright neon signs and endless traffic hum. It’s a pre-Cannibal Holocaust example of the “Humans are the real monsters” deepity that was later refined to lurid perfection in that film, but, as was the case with Cannibal’s closing query of “who the real cannibals are,” it falls apart under the slightest scrutiny. It may be compelling to draw a equivalence between the two, but the fact that Honda and Kimura refuse to see the difference between people being influenced by other parties competing for their attention, time, and resources and mutants who apparently have little else to do than eat a single substance that dominates their lives and bodies says more about them than it does about mankind or Matango. It’s not entirely surprising however, as Honda expressed a populist anti-consumerism in such films as King Kong vs. Godzilla and Mothra. As for Kimura, a reported member of the Japanese communist party, it would be a surprise if he had anything good to say about the soul of man under liberal capitalism, much less mutated mushrooms. This isn’t to say that Honda is a poor filmmaker. Far from it, he actually captures a couple shots in this film that are more engaging and more memorable than any seen in any number of recent movies helmed by big name directors. The first that comes to mind involves one of the female characters going below deck on the yacht. To capture the motion of the boat, the camera slowly sways back and forth as she makes her way into the cabin, tracking her as she comes down the stairs and across the room. Simple, yes, but the effect is hypnotic, strong, and reflect a level of cinematic technique and thought that is not always seen in A-list productions today, much less genre films. The other money shot consists of Mami pondering at a makeshift grave for another castaway. Standing alone in the rain, Mizuno affects a stone-faced countenance that contrasts strikingly with the warm type of roles viewers are undoubtedly accustomed to seeing her in and stays with them long after the momentary horror of the mushroom men she plays against fades from consciousness. Mizuno’s character stands out further from her other Toho roles in how blatantly sexualized she is by the male characters and even herself at one point. Sure, any Godzilla fan worth their salt will fondly recall her skimpy turn as Dayo in Godzilla vs. the Sea Monster, but Dayo was an innocent island girl at heart. Mami, on the other hand, has no heart to speak of, powdering her face as she boasts that the men all want her and are at ends with each other on account of it. This sexualization goes beyond the verbal when, in what might be the two most brazenly sexual moments in a Showa-era Toho film, she is passionately kissed by a half-naked Yoshida (Hiroshi Tachikawa) and has her bottom grabbed by a pleading Kasai (Yoshio Tsuchiya). Again, it’s not like sex is something that’s never been invoked in a Toho film before: Honda’s earlier H-Man infamously featured a scantily-clad nightclub dancer getting melted down to little more than her bra and Matango itself includes similarly-attired dancers in flashback scenes. What differentiates these moments from these other instances is the intimacy they're infused with. The darkly-lit ship interior is itself suggestive of the shady nature of Mami and Yoshida’s embrace, while the tightly-framed camera that captures Kasai’s slow, deliberate movement down Mami’s body conveys the desire and desperation he feels. It’s not just sexy, it’s sexy in an voyeuristic, illicit way. While its suggestive elements are certainly dangerous, the same can’t really be said for its monsters. That is, until the very end, when they emerge in all their morbid glory and emit an unforgettably disturbing sort of laughter. It may seem like a small thing to get creeped out by, but it emphasizes not just how important sound is to a movie, but how well this particular one utilizes it. Prior to this point, the film made excellent use of its sound and music, effectively deploying an ominous boat horn early on and allowing Sadao Bekku’s off-beat score to cover a wide amount of musical ground as it retains an unsettling quality all the while. But even these feats would be for nothing without that slow, distorted laughter that sells the menace at the end. Without it, the Matango are just men in goofy rubber-suits. With it, they become something hideously, deeply evil, and even as I write this review I find myself more chilled by it than by anything they actually do in the film. Would I say Matango is Honda’s best film? Compared to the perfect balance the original Godzilla struck between monster mayhem and sociopolitical allegory, it leans too heavily on the latter and treats the former as almost an afterthought. That being said, the mushroom people do manage to leave a lasting impression and there is much of interest from a filmmaking perspective. Even if one isn’t completely sold on the story, the camerawork and sound design are compelling and speak to the director’s dedication to his craft. It may not be Honda’s best film but it’s certainly not his worst, and if you go in with the right mindset you’ll find plenty of bright spots amidst the murky gloom of Matango. The views expressed in this review are those of the author’s and not necessarily the views of LA Arts Society. For more reviews, events, and other news from LA Arts Society, sign up for our newsletter and follow us on Facebook and Instagram. 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