Matt Cooper Films

Kidan Piece of Darkness (2016)

An anthology of short horor tales by various directors offers mild thrills and creative takes on the traditional ghost story. This collaboration consists of segments by Mari Asato, Hiroki Iwasawa, Eisuke Naito, Yoshihiro Nakamura, Hajime Ohata, and Koji Shiraishi. The short films are unconnected save by theme, with the framing device of a narrator who has heard these tales from anonymous individuals. There are several featuring children, school pupils or teachers, but there are no overlapping characters. While the stories each have a unique take on hauntings, they struggle with a lack of characterisation and deeper exploration of themes due to their restricted length, most around the ten minute mark. The best stories are those that tie everyday fears to their supernatural antagonists; for example a later tale about a mysterious pregnancy, and one concerning a group of primary school children playing in a graveyard who are injured one-by-one. Others, such as the early tales of the shadow man, or the red woman, appear far more superficial in their narratives.

Overall, the film is an interesting experiment by the directors to put together an anthology, and you get the sense that some used the opportunity to try out new ideas. The direction is solid throughout, as might be expected from such a talented group, particularly in the use of framing and editing to evoke a feeling of unease. The sudden appearance of a bloodied figure before the film cuts to black is a perfect example of an effective way to shock the audience while leaving them questioning exactly what they just witnessed. There are several themed around suicide, relationships, and children, all common tropes in this genre. “Kidan Piece of Darkness” offers an easy watch and it moves along at a good pace. Unfortunately, the abundance of ghosts has a pernicious effect: rather than increasing tension it feels more like flicking through an encyclopedia of ghosts without spending time to really feel any kind of emotional attachment to the characters, or terror of the ghouls themselves. A good introduction to Japanese horror, but perhaps too tame for long-term fans.

Matt Cooper Films

Gozu (2003) by Takashi Miike

After being tasked with taking his senior to be executed, a young Yakuza (Hideki Sone) encounters a series of bizarre and troubling incidents in this unconventional crime tale. “Gozu” begins with the Yakuza Ozaki (Show Aikawa) telling his boss that everything that he’s about to say is a joke, and not to take it too seriously. This could be a nod to the audience that we are in for a wild ride, even by the standards of director Takashi Miike’s extensive catalogue of weird and wonderful films. Not long after Ozaki says this he spots a small dog outside; convinced it is a ‘Yakuza dog’, specially trained to kill gangsters, he heads outside to dash the dog against the ground, swinging it around his head on its lead before flinging it into the window. This sets the tone for the film’s blend of dark comedy, graphic violence, and seemingly non-sequitur storytelling. After Ozaki dies unexpectedly in an accident, his junior, Minami (Sone), stops by a cafe; but when he returns to the car, Ozaki is gone. Things get stranger when Minami checks in at a nearby ryokan, with a lactating landlady, a cow-headed figure in Y-fronts, rituals to summon spirits, odd patrons of the local cafe, and the mystery of how a dead man got up and walked away.

Written by Sakichi Sato and directed by Takashi Miike, “Gozu” provides an entertaining story from beginning to end, with provocative imagery veering from sinister to hilarious. The film constantly undercuts the tension wtih moments of farce, or drives things to the extreme in a way that leaves you searching for some symbolism. Hideki Sone does a great job as the confused Minami, his anxiety about what he has to do and his loyalty to his senior writ large in his performance. Likewise, the unhinged thug Ozaki is played brilliantly by Show Aikawa. The cast of peculiar characters they meet along the road, including Shohei Hino’s Nose, a man with a peculiar skin condition, and Keiko Tomita and Harumi Sone, the odd couple who run the local inn, all help to bring the film’s mysterious journey to life. Koji Endo’s score of grinding strings furthers the unsettling atmosphere, emphasising Minami’s descent into a world both inexplicable and inescapable.

“Gozu” is a film that lends itself to interpretation, but it is hard to pin down just one. At its heart it centres on the anxiety of Minami, perhaps grappling with his conscience knowing that is driving his senior to his death. Ozaki is knocked out when Minami brakes hard as the road comes to an abrupt end at a river. This could be the first of several references to the afterlife, although they do not cross the river. Whether Ozaki is in hell, purgatory, or some nighmare world, the mystery deepens as he falls for a woman claiming to be Ozaki, played by Kimika Yoshino. Again, it is possible to see this as Ozaki’s spirit, now in its pure form, and the final moments of the film again twist ideas of identity and self to a grotesque yet compelling conclusion. The film seems to poke fun at the Yakuza as an institution, particularly in the character of their boss (Renji Ishibashi), who has a peculiar ritual required before love-making. Whether a parody of the typical crime film; a dark dive into the psyche of gangsters; or a film about closeted homosexuality, “Gozu” is a film that provides plenty of food for thought.

Matt Cooper Films

King’s Game (2011) by Norio Tsuruta

A class at Tamaoka High School receive text messages telling them they must participate in a series of tests: at first seemingly innocuous things like a student confessing their love for another; or kissing another student. When students refuse to comply, they disappear mysteriously from the world, with only the remaining class members being able to recall their existence. Student Chiemi (Yurina Kumai) attempts to get to the bottom of the mystery as the tests become increasingly violent and classmates begin to disappear leaving few survivors.

Based on a popular mobile phone novel by Nobuaki Kanazawa and directed by Norio Tsuruta (“Premonition”), “Ousama Game” is a mild teen horror that is unlikely to shock fans of the genre. The film’s main problem is that the vanishing students, while inexplicable, is not particularly scary. The film is largely bloodless and the challenges early on are fairly tame. Things begin to get slightly more dangerous as the plot progresses, but the film could have offered more moral conundrums, or terrifying prospects for the protagonists to face. We learn little about any of the characters and instead spend the time waiting for a resolution that never arrives.

The central conceit of “Ousama Game” is an intriguing one, suggesting theological, political and sociological analogies. The presence of an omnipotent, capricious force, that tortures people for its own amusement provides a look at how religion brutalises believers through growing fear and paranoia, while dangling the possibility of an answer before them. However, it is this self-same absence of the possibility of reprieve that also removes from the film any sense of threat. When the realisation comes that there is nothing that can be done, it undermines any potential tension. Also, the rather awkward explanation and attempt at a twist fall flat as the person who is supposed to be suffering an interminable fate is oblivious to that fact, thereby making the entire enterprise pointless. A shaky premise that could have been rescued by some creative deaths or challenges sadly fails to capitalise on its limited potential.

Matt Cooper Films

Exit 8 (2025) by Genki Kawamura

An unlucky commuter finds himself trapped inside a seemingly endless subway passage in this psychological horror based on a popular video game. The unnamed protagonist exits his packed subway car after seeing a mother berated for failing to quieten her crying child. He receives a message from his ex-girlfriend informing him she is pregnant and asking what she should do with the child. Unexpectedly the man finds he is unable to exit the subway, as the passage seems to loop indefinately, continuously bringing him back to the Exit 0 sign. He then discovers a list of rules on the wall telling him he must look out for anomalies. If he sees something out of place he should turn back; if not, he can continue. He should leave at Exit 8. Slowly, the numbers begin to increase as he learns to spot anything unusual about the space, all the while wondering what it is and why he is trapped there.

“Exit 8”, directed by Genki Kawamura from a script by Kawamura and Kentaro Hirase, is a peculiar horror film based on an intriguing concept. Relying on the mundanity of cycling around an endless underground passageway the film will no doubt deter some due to the repetitive nature of the plot. The film makes the bold move of almost never cutting away from this Escher-like corridor and our protagonists Sisyphean attempts to escape. Kazunari Ninomiya brings some much-needed emotion and charisma to the main character; we feel his frustration growing as he searches for answers along the nondescript walls and increasingly familiar surroundings. Fans of the game will delight in the film’s faithful recreation of the corridor, although a few changes do exist, and the inclusion of elements drawn from the game. The film does deviate from the minimalist plot of the game, adding some backstory to our protagonist and fleshing out the character of the Walking Man (Yamato Kochi), whose endless circuit mirrors our protagonist’s own; alongside a young boy (Naru Asanuma) who plays a pivotal role; and a schoolgirl (Kotone Hanase) whose pointed reflection on the drudge of everyday life is as terrifying as the swarm of rats that appear later.

“Exit 8” plays on a particular Japanese fear of being stuck in the endless cycle of monotonous work, commute, work, commute, that typifies the salaryman lifestyle. Essentially robbing individuals of their free time and personality, they become mindless drones, unable to truly appreciate anything as they repeatedly carry out their duties. The film’s opening sequence is difficult to watch as most people would find themselves in the same quandary as the main character, ignoring obvious poor behaviour for a quiet life, alongside every other bystander. The trial of the tunnel seems designed for our protagonist to learn a lesson about calling out abnormal behaviour and being more observant and responsive to the world around him. The film also delves into Buddhist ideas of recurrance and rebirth, with each failure leading to reset, and progress a matter of strict adherence to the rules and continuous self-improvement alongside cultivating an acute perception of one’s environment. We never learn what the corridor is, or why these character end up there, but there is enough in the film for viewers to deduce what may be happening and draw meaning from. “Exit 8” does a great job at creating an eerie atmosphere and providing the viewer with a philosophical and psychological horror that reflects the increasing isolation in modern society.

Matt Cooper Films

Kyofu: The Sylvian Experiments (2010) by Hiroshi Takahashi

Two scientists watch old black-and-white footage of secret experiments done on subjects brains; the stated aim of which are to alter their consciousness and allow them to see things beyond this world. The footage ends with three subjects witnessing a blinding white light. The scientits’ daughters also witness the white light which gives the youngest, Kaori, unnatural powers of perception. As an adult Kaori (Mina Fujii), becomes aware that her sister Mayuki (Yuri Nakamura) has gone missing. Mayuki, after attempting suicide on the anniversary of their father’s death, has in fact been taken by their mother, Etsuko (Nagisa Katahira), who is continuing to experiment on kidnapped individuals.

Written and directed by Hiroshi Takahashi, “Kyofu: The Sylvian Experiments”, blends conspiracy thriller with supernatural elements. The theme of secretive, unethical experiments recalls the most horrific of Japan’s wartime crimes, and the sequences of skulls being drilled into or cut open are not for the squeamish. The majority of the film concerns Kaori’s search for her sister and the peculiar effects of the various experiments, such as extra-sensory perception, outer-body experiences, and premonitions. Unfortunately, the film’s conclusion lets down any interesting parts of the narrative, wrapping things up in a cliched ending that undermines everything that has gone before. There are a few effective moments of horror, particularly with the immaculate pregnancy of one of the subjects towards the end of the film, but besides this and the surgery scenes, there are few real frights. The main cast do a great job with their characters, but unfortunately we don’t get enough insight into their relationship to form a genuine connection with them.

“The Sylvian Experiments” questions the notion of existence after death, or the possibility of a world that exists outside our conscious perception. This could have provided a great thematic through line for the drama, but instead we see a string of missed opportunities. The film has ghostly figures appearing and characters being aware of things, but none of these really touch on the central premise of whether or not there is a realm beyond this world. The mystery of what happened to Mayuki could have continued longer before giving the audience a full explanation of what is happening. There could have been more explanation of the girls’ feelings towards their father’s death, or their mother. Instead things are left decidedly vague. The final twist is weak and not really foreshadowed by anything that precedes it; in essence undoing everything and leaving us with an underwhelming final image. Overall, the film is a rather lacklustre affair that fails to deliver on an intriguing premise, instead playing it safe with familiar tropes and shallow characterisation.