Phone (폰)

While outdated technology may slightly hinder the tensity of this film, Ahn Byeong-ki's Phone is certainly still able to deliver scares. Released in 2002, the film was able to make use of a technology that was just starting to be adopted by the mainstream.

There are a couple factors that contribute to the horror in this film. On a basic level, there are quite a few instances of shock horror spread throughout the film. Intended to make the audience panic, if only for a second, these instances heighten the intensity of the situation. While some of these moments were predictable, one or two actually took me by surprise. And these moments weren't just random either; they still connected to the story.

The use of technology as a transmission of death is also quite horrific. Phone turns that annoying ringtone that everyone knows into something to be feared. I think the best part about it though is that there was deeper meaning to the horror behind the phone. While the back story might be a bit cheesy, it is a common theme and the audience cane easily understand the gravity of the situation. So, when the spirit possesses the phone to take revenge, it's more believable because of the familiarity of the adultery.  In addition to this, the cinematography accentuated the themes of the film. All of the scenes that relate to the vengeance of either the high schooler or the mother are washed in a cool blue, which highlights the cold, calculated revenge that takes place. And it appears that any connections to the father's adultery are colored in a warm orange color (although this wash isn't as obvious as the blues). I think this was done to hint at the real cause of all this trouble (the mother's attack on the high schooler).

I was quite unsettled by the Electra complex theme that was used in the film as well. I think it's safe to say it's pretty weird to see a five year old girl try to make out with her father. Eun Seo-woo (the little girl) does a terrific job acting like a demonic high schooler. Her facial expressions (eyes in particular) were quite unsettling-- you expect the child to have a baby face, but once possessed she does nothing but glare at her mother.

Phone is a pretty decent film with a few good scares thrown in. While not on the same level as other Korean horrors like A Tale of Two Sisters or Bunshinsaba, it is definitely worth a watch.

Let Me In vs. Let The Right One In

I originally intended to review these separately, as I was hoping that Let Me In would contain enough differences from the original Swedish film. However, while Matt Reeves' take on John Lindqvist's novel Let The Right One In is a well made horror/romance flick, it doesn't quite live up to Alfredson's version.

I'll start with the good things about Let Me In. The cinematography of this film is quite astounding. The cinematographer made use of blues and oranges to convey the theme of the film: innocence. Oranges are used when either a lack of innocence is shown or someone's innocence is taken advantage of. For example, Owen's bedroom telescoping sessions are all orange. The tunnel in which Abby attacks a random jogger has an orange tinge surrounded by darkness.

On the other side, blues are used when the character is innocently unaware of the true happenings or believes their actions to be innocent. The prime example for this is Thomas. We see him slit a man's neck to collect blood for Abbey, but as we come to find out, he does it out of love for her. It's her need, it keeps her alive, and so the act seems so innocent. While the colors are used interestingly to depict the theme, they also help create a horrific mood. Thomas' blood collections are cold; there are no feelings towards the victims. Abby's attacks are warm, which intensifies the heated moments.

That's about as much as I can say for Let Me In. What's really disappointing is that Reeves didn't take any initiative creating his own take on the source story. The script is literally almost the same as Let The Right One In, with the only major changes being names and locations. He does start in media res, which allows the film to have a tense opening. But the rest of the script follows the Swedish version almost exactly. And unfortunately for Reeves, Alfredson's version comes off as much more horrific.

My biggest complaint about Let Me In is the pacing compared to Let The Right One In. Alfredson deliberately created a slow pace, which reflected the isolated area in which the characters lived. But Reeves' pacing makes the dialogue seemed forced, even though the child actors are pretty darn good. Abby's kills in Let Me In also bother me; I understand the jerky nature was to convey a more supernatural threat (along with the effects on her face), but the great thing about Eli is that she seemed more human. That which is more familiar but is not in reality is more prone to invoke horror. And while I enjoyed the cinematography of Let Me In, Let The Right One In had astounding visuals with great thanks to the natural location. The film was largely unbiased in it's lighting; instead of blues and oranges there was nothing but white, which accurately represents the innocence of everyone in the film. That way, the viewer can make their own decisions on the motives and feelings of the characters. Finally (and this may be nit-picky), Let Me In was way too obvious about the reality of the situation (Thomas being a lover of Abby from childhood). Let The Right One In was much more subtle about the true horror of the story, while Let Me In kept dropping hints throughout in a forceful manner.

With all this being said, Let Me In is certainly not a bad film; it just happens that this is one of the many cases where the original is superior.

Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer

John McNaughton's first feature-length film debuted at the end of the 80's slasher era with the tagline "He's not Freddy, He's not Jason... He's Real!" Henry certainly isn't Freddy or Jason, but he's quite arguably worse. 

Horror films that affect me the most are those that have a serious sense of realism (which is why I normally prefer psychological horrors). The most influential factor of this film is that Henry (Michael Rooker) could be any guy. He could be your neighbor. Your boss. Anyone. And that is truly frightening. While Henry may have some shocking moments, there is mainly an awful sense of dread that arises from the very beginning and remains with the viewer even after the film is over. We know there is a killer out there. We see what he's done. And it could happen again.

Equally disturbing is the fact that Henry seems to have no good reason to kill; he does it to pass the time, even taking along his friend (Otis) to join in on the fun. He seems to lack any sense of humanity-- that is, until anything sexual is thrown in his face. He defends Becky twice from her own brother, even killing him to protect her. However, was this because he cares for her? With his back story in mind, it appears that any sexual acts remind him of his mother.  But Henry doesn't specifically kill rapists and perverts-- he only stops those acts if they are sprung upon him. So it seems like Henry's not out for revenge like Freddy or Jason; he's just bored. 

My favorite part of the film was the portrayal of Henry's past murders. The image of the murdered bodies with the sounds of their last few minutes of life made the deaths seem so trivial, as if it's something that just happens. The thought of death as just a thing is pretty scary. These scenes also add to Henry's anonymity. The bodies were all that were left for friends or loved ones to find, with no trace of who committed the crime. I'd almost prefer that all the murders were portrayed this way, but a lack of the videotaped family-intrusion would be no good. 

Burnt Offerings

Directed by Dan Curtis, Burnt Offerings (1976) is quite an interesting film. I feel really conflicted because on one hand, there are certain elements of the film that I really enjoyed. However, I can't say I like the film as a whole. There are a few small horror elements that I liked in particular but the actual film plot is just so... indescribable.

Here, only the car containing youth and life glows; the house is dull. 

The obvious horror element is the house come to life. The home "grows young" by feeding off of bodily injury and death. I think it's pretty clear once Marian starts acting suspicious about the old mother's room that there is no mother at all. Around this time we begin to see the house in better condition (flowers blooming inside the home being an example). Also, the cinematography is well composed in this regard; as the film progresses I noticed that there was much softer lighting, and many whites and bright colors in the picture glowed (with youth!).

In this tense moments, everything glows, including the pillars of the house in the background. 

The pacing and direction of the plot also contribute to the feeling of anxiety. The film's pace is pretty darn slow, which heightens the intensity of any tense moments that do occur (most of which don't happen until the very end...). The plot of the film is pretty confusing at times. It's not necessarily the plot that's confusing though, it's more of the fact that the film kind of just goes on for a bit. Ben's dream and the reoccurrence of the hearse driver are never explained as well (at least the dude is super creepy though).

I thought there was some Oedipal themes going on in the beginning of the film. In the beginning of the film David is shown to be more adept and cunning than his father, and shortly afterwards the attack in the pool occurs. I thought this was a very good set up for the father's psychology to go haywire (as the son was "replacing" him) but he ended up returning to his normal state.

I wish I had more to say about this film but I really don't. I will say that the acting was absolutely terrific; the entire family was completely believable. Ultimately, if a little bit more sense were thrown into the film, I think it would be a wonderful horror film and a real classic.

Onibaba

Never would I have thought that a Japanese film from the sixties could so delicately create commentary on modern culture and the lingering dismay of war. Kaneto Shindo's Onibaba (1964) is a psychological horror infused with demon lore that is reminiscent of other expressionist films (Nosferatu, Freaks, etc.)

The film takes place in 14th century Japan, in the middle of civil war. An old woman and her daughter-in-law fend for themselves by killing soldiers and selling their goods. The opening of the film shows a deep hole in the ground with the text "A Hole. Deep and dark, its darkness has lasted since ancient times" overlaid. The women are shown dumping the bodies of their victims here.

One of the great parts about this film is that this act of murder is normalized. Every bit of the women's daily routines are visualized. The murder is just a part of their daily routine-- their way to survive. When neighboring farmer Hatchi returns from war, the hole is forgotten about (but not for long). Indeed, the hole becomes a symbol of danger for the main characters. The old woman draws the demon masked samurai to the hole, where she steals the mask and is later punished. The hole essentially symbolizes the  unmoral acts that man takes in the midst of uncivilized life. This film was made in a time where the Japanese were still feeling the effects of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Highly expressionistic, the hole physically depicts the looming feelings of grief and anger that were still present in Japanese society.

However, tension isn't created by the presence of the hole. With the absence of the young woman's husband, she begins to give into Hatchi's lust. The old hag resents the affair in what first seems like a moral sense of protection for her daughter-in-law; but we later find that the old woman herself lusts after Hatchi. The old woman speaks of sexual transgression to her daughter-in-law, which makes her a hypocrite given her own lust (and the fact that her murderous sins are never mentioned). The sexual tension invokes anxiety in the audience; we don't know who is going to act first, but someone's going to try and end this love triangle.

The hag adopts the mask of the samurai with the intentions of scaring her daughter-in-law. The mask is the physicality of her envy and grief, and the charred face of the dead samurai represents the punishment for the deliberate transgressions against other human beings. It's also eerily evocative of the WWII bombing victims. When the young woman destroys the mask and reveals the marred face of the old hag, she leads her back to the hole, where the old woman finds her punishment.

Expressionistic influences can be viewed in the mise en scene of the film. The tall leave stalks scatter the light around, tossing shadows over the characters' face and everywhere else. The huts are dark; the characters often hide in the shadows when moments of lust or terror are brought to the surface.

Finally, there is some commentary on the gender roles of modern Japanese culture. The two women must beg when selling their goods in order to get their bags of millet. But when Hatchi comes around, he gets an extra bag of millet and sake for no good reason. While sex is made more normal and human (as it should be... especially compared to American culture) the empowered role of man still exists.

Overall, I'd say Onibaba is well worth the watch. It may be a little slow, but the interaction of the characters really makes up for it.

Dark Water

From the director of Ringu, Dark Water (2002) tells the story of recently divorced mother Yoshimi and her daughter Ikuko as they settle into their new apartment and attempt to live peacefully. Water as horror motif plays a huge role throughout the film. With sparse moments of tensity and real horror, the film falls just short of an incredibly amazing horror movie, due to some aesthetically unsatisfactory final moments.

While divorce was not as common at the time as it was in the United States, 2002 held the highest divorce rate that Japan had ever seen. Especially in Japanese culture where family is highly regarded, the initial set up of the story places viewers in an uncomfortable situation from the get-go.  The family as a unit is analyzed and broken in Dark Water; through flashbacks and other scenes we learn that mother Yoshimi was often left behind and mistreated by her own mother. The parallel is made between her and the "monster" of the film-- Mitsuko, a young girl that lived in the same apartment building and went missing over a year prior to Yoshimi and Ikuko's arrival.

The mise en scene of the film reflects the true horror in a very subtle way for most of the film. Shortly after moving into the new apartment, Yoshimi notices a water spot on her ceiling that begins to leak, which slowly grows in size as more pieces of information about Mitsuko are revealed. A good portion of the complex itself is rundown as well, thanks to the incompetent caretaker of the building who does nothing when Yoshimi mentions the issue. The water spot is an important aesthetic of the film because its growing presence causes anxiety and it moves the plot along by forcing Yoshimi to check out the room above hers (the old room of Mitsuko's family).

The reoccurrence of a red lunch bag also works aesthetically because we don't know who it belongs to or where it comes from; again, the audience feels anxious. The color red is also commonly used in horror films to symbolize a past death or signal one coming in the near future. In addition to all of this, the lunch bag connects Ikuko to Mitsuko. We know that Yoshimi was ignored by her mother as a child, as was Mitsuko.  Yoshimi works hard to be a better mother for Ikuko. But when the strange events continue to happen, Yoshimi forgets to pick Ikuko up from school for various reasons (mainly her job and attempting to find the truth behind Mitsuko's disappearance). In this moment she is likened to her mother, and a glimpse of the true "monster"-- ignorance and mistreatment-- is shown within in the main character. This also ties in with the moral transgression that caused the horror in the first place (the old caretaker who failed to upkeep the building and more specifically, the water tank).

Everything leads to the prior residence of Mitsuko's family and the old water tank that sits on the roof of the complex, as well as the replacement of Ikuko by the spirit of Mitsuko. In a game of hide and seek gone wrong, Ikuko is attacked at her school by Mitsuko's spirit. The spirit lures Ikuko to the 4th floor residence, where water pours from the ceiling. As mentioned earlier, Yoshimi becomes overly concerned with Mitsuko's disappearance, thereby giving less attention to Ikuko. Yoshimi discovers the cleaning log on the water tank that corresponds with the date of Mitsuko's disappearance. At the same time, Ikuko encounters some strange happenings on her own. First, hair spurts from the bathroom sink, which is shortly followed by the bathtub overflowing. As Ikuko tries to shut the water off, Mitsuko's spirit leaps from the tub and attempts to drown Ikuko. The scene is tense; we know something will come from the tub, but it's still shocking to see the rotten hands of Mitsuko. Unfortunately, this is the point where the plot starts to head south.

Yoshimi rushes back to save her daughter from drowning. Clutching Ikuko in her arms, Yoshimi runs to the elevator, attempting to escape from Mitsuko's spirit. Yoshimi watches from the elevator in terror, waiting for Mitsuko to exit the apartment. But Nakata plays a trick on us; Ikuko stumbles from the doorway, calling for her mother. Yoshimi realizes that she is holding Mitsuko instead. While I do think the twist itself functions very well aesthetically, the vision of the spirit realized is a little lack luster. It looks like an old doll painted green, which negatively affected all the tension that was previously built. Luckily we don't see the spirit for too long-- Yoshimi decides that she must stay with the spirit in order to save her daughter. A waterfall erupts from the elevator over Ikuko with Yoshimi and the spirit nowhere in sight.

If the movie had ended there I could completely ignore the aforementioned negative. But the film ends with an epilogue of sorts. Ikuko, now a high school student, returns to her old home and finds her mother. When she realizes what she saw was the spirit of Yoshimi, she understands that her mother has been watching over her and protecting her. This epilogue serves to tie together the themes of family and togetherness and resolve the issue of mistreatment that was the crux of the movie. For a drama, this epilogue works well aesthetically, as it ties everything together in a "happy ending" situation. I think that it lessens the impact of the horror itself. However, realizing that this is an Asian film, I do understand why the epilogue was included. It certainly doesn't detract from the quality of the overall film-- it only lessens the idea of what horrors occurred.

Ringu

Hideo Nakata's Ringu (1998) is highly attributed with the resurgence of Asian horror cinema in the late 90's and early 2000's. Based off of Rikiya Otaka's novel of the same name, the film's plot is based around a cursed videotape-- anyone who watches it will die exactly one week later. This film was released at a time where technology was becoming more and more advanced, to the fear of many. Even today we hold some fear of technology and the potential consequences of its over-use in our minds.

The film opens with a shot of dark, frothing ocean water, which is accompanied by an ominous soundtrack. While the ocean bit isn't explained until much later in the film, it certainly sets the tone for what follows.

The first scene takes place in a teenage girl's bedroom. Two friends, Masami and Tomoko, talk about Tomoko's recent trip to Izu. Masami brings up the story of the tape, and Tomoko reveals that she and her friends watched the tape. The room is quite dark and only a small amount of light reaches the girl's faces, which makes Masami's storytelling very tense. We later see Tomoko sitting near the television alone. When the TV switches on by itself, the eerie glow of the television set falls upon Tomoko's face, and at that point we know the story is no joke.

The story then switches to reporter Reiko Amakawa. After finding a picture of Tomoko and her other dead friends that contains their faces blurred and distorted, Reiko visits their vacation site where the watched the tape. Located in Izu, the cabin is shown to have an owner who rents it out, but the cinematography makes the cabin seem like it is in the middle of nowhere (the 'cabin in the woods,' a common motif of horror films).  Here, we see the contents of the tape, which effectively induces dread in various ways.

Firstly, the contents of the tape are abnormal and don't make very much sense. The tape shows some circular object like a ring, people crawling on the ground in pain, a close up of an eye, the word 'eruption', and an image of a well with a hand reaching out (this is where the tape ends). These images do not make sense and we know that death is somehow associated with the tape. Thus we feel uneasy.

Second, we now assume that Reiko is cursed and has one week to solve her problem. This is confirmed  shortly afterward when Reiko meets with her ex-husband, who takes a photo of her. The photo contains Reiko's face which is very blurred and distorted. In fact, her face looks almost alien-like in the picture, which is pretty unsettling in my opinion. Anticipation can only build from here as Reiko tries to lift the curse.

Lastly (and I think this is one of the most effective parts of the whole film), the viewer had to watch the cursed video himself. It might seem silly, but I think that in the back of a lot of people's minds many couldn't help but think about the possible consequences. This idea adds to the sympathy for the main character.

Later in the film, Reiko and her ex-husband Ryuji see visions of past events, where it is revealed that a child named Sadako had supernatural powers. Her mother also had these powers but committed suicide due to threats against her. After figuring out the location of Sadako's body, Reiko and Ryuji sail back to Izu through a deadly storm (returning to the water motif). In the most teeth-biting, hair pulling scene of this movie, Ryuji lowers himself into a well where the body of Sadako is believed to be. Located under the cabin where the teenagers had their vacation, Ryuji and Reiko attempt to extract the water from the well to obtain the body. Reiko pulls out bucket after bucket of water. The scene is dark, lit only by flashlights. I especially became tense when Reiko took her turn in the well. Eventually the head of the girl, covered in hair, slowly rises from the water, making you think the girl has returned to life. Luckily Reiko pulls the hair back to reveal a skeleton. Even still, this scene is incredibly creepy, leading you to believe that things won't end well for Reiko (she was supposed to die around the time they found the skeleton and she survived.)

The happy ending is used to create a false sense of hope for the audience. The next day Ryuji sits in his study and the TV flicks on. In a truly horrific sequence, we see Sadako crawl out of the well and out of the TV set itself. At the end of her abnormal walk she stands tall, eyes wide, literally scaring the life out of Ryuiji. I think what's most effective about this scene is that there's no special lighting or shots that try to hide the monster. We see her completely as she crawls out of the television and straight into Ryuji's living room. In an age where people are adopting three dimensional televisions that are loaded with crazy features, this sequence is extremely relevant and can be considered familiar to our generation. The film ends with an open ending, as Reiko races to save her son, realizing what she must do in order to transfer the curse from him to someone else.