TALES OF TERROR FROM TOKYO

TALES OF TERROR FROM TOKYO

From its origins in cross-comparative mythology to its subsequent refinement as literary fiction the ghost story has perhaps terrified and challenges audiences most effectively through the miracle of the Silver Scream. Disturbing us with evidence of our upcoming mortality, descending into macabre possibilities of what the after-life massy hold for us if we're all not to simply feed the worms, the supernatural cinema also questions the very heart of existence. Exploring the spectral depths of our archetypal cultural fears, the complexities of the shadowy human heart, and our all-too-human anxieties of the unknown, supernatural cinema reflects both the universal terrors of culture and the intimate anxieties of individual characters.

Finding fresh, evocative, emotionally disturbing (and involving) forms for mysterious elements of the unknown that both plague and fascinate us Tales Of Terror From Tokyo: The Movie entertains with its 'spook show' surface mentality and obvious desire to get under the skin at the same time that it wages a cultural exorcism, analyzing within its visually stunning imagery and demented thematic depths those menacing mysteries of night-time existence. With the practiced magic of an ancient Shaman spinning dark miracles by firelight to a species that will forever fear the dark, this modern revision of the traditional anthology film scares as much through suggestion and what it leaves unsaid as it does through disturbing imagery, nightmarishly effective atmosphere, and stories that, while occasionally lacking satisfying character depth or fully developed plots, are undeniably effective in a gut-wringing, primal manner. Similar to the effects of nightmares, which carry their own surreal sense of logic, these small dark wonders of shock evoke the terror of the unbelievable and supernatural not so much through invading reality as by subverting it all together.

The directors of this new Asian fear-fest are similar to practiced surgeons, knowing just where to separate flesh from bone, nerve from muscle. Only in this case the filmmakers successfully separate the banal everyday appearance of surface reality from the nightmarishly evocative, using the unknown as their scalpel, and the unsuspecting, helpless lives of everyday men and women as their canvas. The world, if but for a brief time (sometimes very brief!), is transformed into a secret geography of nightmare. Titillating and tormenting, these tiny explosions of mood, atmosphere, and devastating mini-plots are blitzkreigs of emotion, attacking and leaving with the rapidity of hallucinations. Managing to succeed as rapid-fire "shock 'em!" vignettes, these examples of cinematic meta-fictionsomehow also manage to lend the impression that they are larger, more complexly plotted tragedies. Cross-cultural nightmares plucked from the fertile dark minds of such storytellers as Hirokatsu Kihara and Ichiro Nakayama, who dramatized oral folk rumor, these neurotic nightmares of supernatural possibility and the dark-side of human experience weave raw kernels of truth into frightful fictional constructs. A full-length feature addition of the original Japanese television series, this disc evokes terror in eight primarily successful attacks against expectation.

While some viewers will resent those stories that are, in fact, anti-stories, lacking the characterization and complexly structured plots that longer time lengths and supportive frame-works encourage, even entries which are simply fragments -- attacks of a single mood or nightmarish occurrence -- contain enough dramatic fuel and depth of suggestion to disturb on a deep, primal level. In "Whisps Of Smoke," a fragmented evocation of surreal impossibility played against the backdrop of three girls finding themselves forever lost alongside a haunted temple, needs no special effects to terrify. Like its fellows, this episode of uneasiness awakens nightmares through its very brevity, so very effective precisely because it does unravel in such minimal and unexplained fashion. Likewise with the modern re-imagining of the ancient belief of the 'nightmare', featured as a malevolent wraith who crushes the life from sleepers in "The Weight." "Full Length," another undeveloped if effectively jarring exercise in minimalist movie-making reminds us precisely of how related these tales are to traditional folklore and oral storytelling, focused primarily on a single emotion or wonder rather than the subtleties of intimate character development, and just as effective for all of that. Revolving around a cursed mirror in a High School locker room, the final image is both grotesque and unsuspected.

Of more substantial and frightening effects are "The Night Watchman," a hilarious dark comedy of a building guard whose refusal to admit the terrors which his senses show him curse everyone BUT him with spectral interactions, and "Gloves," which features the revenant of a still-living woman jealous of her rival. Perhaps the most disturbing imagery of this collection, bar none, may be found in the absolutely chilling "Line Of Sight," wherein a schoolgirl's chance videotaping of a blur slowly, malevolently infiltrates her life. Crossing the line between art and reality, film and experience, the moment when the bug-eyed, squeaky voiced specter emerges from the film is terrifying. Through imitative of Ringu in imagery, the piece develops its own identity, and the last line of dialogue, like the ghost, threatens to stay with you. "The Promise," while not as frightening, is just as emotionally cruel, focused on the exploits of a demonic spirit whose call must be answered. Finally, we have "Hiaso." Not as all-out frightening as "Line Of Sight," this last shadow-drenched story is certainly more profound, lifting it from a ghost story of surface scares to a tragedy of love, loss, and conscience.

Seasoned fear-mongers and nubile newcomers share the unnerving spook-light in this ultimately satisfying barrage of minimalist plotting and sensationalism. You'll particularly enjoy the experience if you're a devotee of stories which emphasize lurking moments of shock and emotional revelation, aspects of narrative that these shorts rely on due to time constraints. This newest incarnation of the time-honored horror anthology (most enticingly evoked in Kwadian, the frightful forefather of the form) delivers its promised share of dread, only occasionally languishing beneath predictable plotting and stale imagery. A unique collection, each story does a commendable job wringing out the last ounce of atmosphere from minimal set ups.

Including few bells and whistles, the extras are limited to the domestic and international theatrical trailers fore the title film as well as for Death Trance, Neighbor 12, and Art Of The Devil (2). Polished in terms of visual and audio quality, featuring optional English dubs, the film is treated respectfully if not generously. In the end, though, I doubt you'll mind, for the creping-up-on-you-nature of these recycled Asian legends more than make up for a lack of significant supplements. Refreshingly direct in its approach, proudly declaring by its menacing atmosphere that it wants to scare you first, and make you think after inspiring dread, Tales is just as concerned with breaking through the flimsy barriers of expectation, questioning the nature of reality. Because each addition manages despite restrictions of time to establish a context of believability quickly shattered by the demonic, the audience finds it easier to experience concern for characters when the frail ends of reality split. These modern re-workings of folklore and contemporary experience are, for the most part, frightening despite oft-times predictable build-ups. A fiendishly frightening time!

Review by William P Simmons


 
Released by Media Blasters
Region 1 NTSC
Not Rated
Extras : see main review
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