Kinji Fukasaku’s The Green Slime is a sci-fi horror that’s as cheesy as it is colourful, blending astronauts, space monsters, and a heaping dose of camp into a package that can only be described as quintessentially 1960s. It’s a film that wavers between absurd fun and baffling incompetence, but its striking visuals and sheer audacity make it hard to forget.

The premise is simple but effective: astronauts destroy a giant asteroid heading toward Earth, only to inadvertently bring back a green goo that spawns one-eyed, tentacled creatures on their space station. From there, chaos ensues as the monsters wreak havoc, feeding off electricity and zapping the hapless crew. It’s a familiar setup, but one elevated (or derailed, depending on your perspective) by the film’s over-the-top execution.

While the special effects are undeniably dated, they possess a certain charm. The titular Green Slime monsters, with their glowing eyes and wriggling tentacles, are endearingly goofy, and the vibrant technicolor palette gives the film a distinct visual identity. Fukasaku’s direction, though uneven, injects the proceedings with enough energy to keep things moving, even when the script falters.

Like The Astro-Zombies, The Green Slime suffers from clunky dialogue and a paper-thin plot, but its campy appeal is impossible to ignore. The film leans into its B-movie roots, embracing the ridiculousness of its premise with gusto. It’s the kind of film that thrives on late-night viewings and good-natured riffing, offering just enough spectacle to entertain.

While The Green Slime is far from a classic, it’s a fun, kitschy ride for those who appreciate the charms of mid-century sci-fi. Its influence on the genre may be negligible, but as a piece of schlocky entertainment, it delivers exactly what it promises: gooey, tentacled mayhem in space.

• Saul Muerte