I wasn’t exactly raised on ghost stories.
Oh, like so many of my era, I grew up watching a good deal of thrills, chills, and spills, but the more traditional ghost stories just weren’t really around, unless you wanted them in comic form. It was almost as if ghosts and their usual haunts were forbidden from the youth of my day, leaving such tales the province of more adult audiences than they were the young’uns. As I said, you could find plenty of more traditional laughers — actors and actresses would ape it up on screens big and small for hearty guffaws — the kind that were built more on overacting than they were authentic terror of any measure. It really wasn’t until I got into my teens — the great 1980’s — that Horror storytelling truly expanded in such a way that young and old were welcomed to the cineplexes. Mind you: the adults in the room may not have been thrilled sharing space with us, but we came anyway … and we came by the thousands.
Furthermore, it wasn’t until the 1990’s — what with the expanse of home video accessibility in the United States — that I ever knew anything about foreign imports in any genre. Occasionally, we’d get some poorly dubbed entries via syndicated television channels, but for the most part I didn’t get the chance to explore Japanese, Chinese, Korean, or other country’s Horror until the corner Blockbuster Video had them in short supply. Consequently, I don’t consider myself an expert on them in any regard. While I might not be completely unaware of their existence, styles, and trends, I — like many of you — still have plenty to learn about them … and this is why I was hip to check out Arrow Films’ recent collection, J-Horror Rising, an assortment of seven flicks that emerged near the end of the last century, sending audiences on a wild ride into a haunted tomorrow.
First up: 1999’s Shikoku.
Directed by Shunichi Nagasaki and crafted for the silver screen by Kunimi Manda and Takenori Sento from a work by Masako Bando, the ghost story explores the relationship between three childhood friends who’ve grown into adults with one having passed away yet far from gone in a sleepy little rural Japanese town. The production stars Yui Natsukawa, Michitaka Tsutsui, Chiaki Kuriyama, Toshie Negishi, and Ren Ôsugi in prominent roles. Though the end result is reasonably solid in so much as it introduces, expands upon, and completes the story, that’s really about all it does, leaving room for very little spookery for those who show up expecting a bit more.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When Hinako was a child she was separated from Fumiya and Sayori as she moved to Tokyo. Now she has returned to Shikoku, but it turns out that Sayori drowned. When Hinako starts seeing Sayori in her dreams, she seeks help from Fumiya.”
Oh, like so many of my era, I grew up watching a good deal of thrills, chills, and spills, but the more traditional ghost stories just weren’t really around, unless you wanted them in comic form. It was almost as if ghosts and their usual haunts were forbidden from the youth of my day, leaving such tales the province of more adult audiences than they were the young’uns. As I said, you could find plenty of more traditional laughers — actors and actresses would ape it up on screens big and small for hearty guffaws — the kind that were built more on overacting than they were authentic terror of any measure. It really wasn’t until I got into my teens — the great 1980’s — that Horror storytelling truly expanded in such a way that young and old were welcomed to the cineplexes. Mind you: the adults in the room may not have been thrilled sharing space with us, but we came anyway … and we came by the thousands.
Furthermore, it wasn’t until the 1990’s — what with the expanse of home video accessibility in the United States — that I ever knew anything about foreign imports in any genre. Occasionally, we’d get some poorly dubbed entries via syndicated television channels, but for the most part I didn’t get the chance to explore Japanese, Chinese, Korean, or other country’s Horror until the corner Blockbuster Video had them in short supply. Consequently, I don’t consider myself an expert on them in any regard. While I might not be completely unaware of their existence, styles, and trends, I — like many of you — still have plenty to learn about them … and this is why I was hip to check out Arrow Films’ recent collection, J-Horror Rising, an assortment of seven flicks that emerged near the end of the last century, sending audiences on a wild ride into a haunted tomorrow.
First up: 1999’s Shikoku.
Directed by Shunichi Nagasaki and crafted for the silver screen by Kunimi Manda and Takenori Sento from a work by Masako Bando, the ghost story explores the relationship between three childhood friends who’ve grown into adults with one having passed away yet far from gone in a sleepy little rural Japanese town. The production stars Yui Natsukawa, Michitaka Tsutsui, Chiaki Kuriyama, Toshie Negishi, and Ren Ôsugi in prominent roles. Though the end result is reasonably solid in so much as it introduces, expands upon, and completes the story, that’s really about all it does, leaving room for very little spookery for those who show up expecting a bit more.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When Hinako was a child she was separated from Fumiya and Sayori as she moved to Tokyo. Now she has returned to Shikoku, but it turns out that Sayori drowned. When Hinako starts seeing Sayori in her dreams, she seeks help from Fumiya.”
A great many Dramas and Horrors do touch on how previous personal friendships somehow went awry and what such an aftermath might inevitably lead to; and, unfortunately, that’s really all viewers get from a treatise like Shikoku. To be fair, the script here doesn’t even go into any great lengths as to the how’s and why’s of the relationship demise, arguably chalking up to a bit of petty jealousy over one girl’s ability – Hinako (played by Yui Natsukawa) – to move away from the outskirts to the big city while leaving her young friend – Sayori (Chiaki Kuriyama) behind. In fact, Hinako was just a child – her parents are the ones who really initiated the moving, so their daughter is essentially blameless in the shape of things – so this truly is a case of misplaced anger on Sayori’s part. Of course, I understand how her feelings of abandonment figure into the tale; I’m just saying … well … it’s honestly a bit silly. Regardless, the mean girl hauled that grudge with her into the afterlife, and it loosely comes into play once Hinako returns to her childhood retreat with hopes of reconnecting with some of those acquaintances.
Shocked to her of Sayori’s demise, Hinako does locate Fumiya (Michitaka Tsutsai), and the young man is understandably smitten with his former mate. Because his heart still belongs to Sayori, he’s initially hesitant to act on his affections. But as the two spend more and more time trying to piece together the mystery surrounding both Sayori’s death and a bit of simmering chaos associated to her remaining family and what looks to be someone dabbling in dark magic, their hearts overwhelm their minds with emotion. Before you know it, Fumiya gives in to the temptation, convinced that Hinako’s return was meant to pull him out of his stupor and to begin living life to its fullest once more.
As one might suspect, it isn’t long before the spectral incarnation of Sayori – delivered from the afterlife by a despondent mother’s annual pilgrimage to undo her loss and to reanimate her daughter’s fleshy form – shows up on the scene wanting a reunion all of her own. It’ll take a bit of light magic in the end – along with a loving yet tragic sacrifice on the part of one of the three friends – to set things back to the way things ought to be. Thankfully, there’s a good monk on the scene who knows exactly what needs to be done otherwise this quiet little Japanese suburb might’ve been Ground Zero for an all-new iteration of the Walking Dead!
Succinctly, Shikoku isn’t a bad film. It doesn’t bring much fresh and/or invigorating to the realm of spectral shenanigans, but I’m not certain that was necessary. It moves along at its own leisurely pace, occasionally punctuating the background of Sayori, Fumiya, and Hinako with flashbacks, a few of which might not even have been all that germane. Eventually, the supernatural elements get an equally slow reveal, giving audiences a bit of insight as to what these walks in the mountain might mean, and the pace quickens up in response. Also, the picture eventually swings the door open to some strong visuals – the last reel is particularly impressive once the ghost with the most is in high gear – and I would suspect most viewers sat up and paid closer attention. There’s even a late-breaking jump-style scare that’s well articulated, so kudos to all involved for recognizing some great atmosphere when it was needed.
Still, Shikoku – as is – feels a bit longer than it actually runs, and that’s usually an indication that something’s amiss, be it cinematography, narrative framing, or performances.
While I’d stop short of pointing a finger at anyone in particular, I’ll concede that Hinako just didn’t move me in the same way that Sayori or Fumiya did. Part of the problem could be that the script loosely suggests she had a pretty good life – certainly one more vivid than the counterparts she left behind – and, as such, Sayori’s envy does resonate more strongly than it probably should. It might’ve been a better idea to either give her a fault or two or maybe even dial back the actress’ natural beauty – she’s quite fetching – and then she might’ve created the possibility that she was real and not so perfect. When your lead character seemingly gets all of the good stuff out of life, this strengthens the position of those who oppose her; and I don’t think that was intentional here.
Shocked to her of Sayori’s demise, Hinako does locate Fumiya (Michitaka Tsutsai), and the young man is understandably smitten with his former mate. Because his heart still belongs to Sayori, he’s initially hesitant to act on his affections. But as the two spend more and more time trying to piece together the mystery surrounding both Sayori’s death and a bit of simmering chaos associated to her remaining family and what looks to be someone dabbling in dark magic, their hearts overwhelm their minds with emotion. Before you know it, Fumiya gives in to the temptation, convinced that Hinako’s return was meant to pull him out of his stupor and to begin living life to its fullest once more.
As one might suspect, it isn’t long before the spectral incarnation of Sayori – delivered from the afterlife by a despondent mother’s annual pilgrimage to undo her loss and to reanimate her daughter’s fleshy form – shows up on the scene wanting a reunion all of her own. It’ll take a bit of light magic in the end – along with a loving yet tragic sacrifice on the part of one of the three friends – to set things back to the way things ought to be. Thankfully, there’s a good monk on the scene who knows exactly what needs to be done otherwise this quiet little Japanese suburb might’ve been Ground Zero for an all-new iteration of the Walking Dead!
Succinctly, Shikoku isn’t a bad film. It doesn’t bring much fresh and/or invigorating to the realm of spectral shenanigans, but I’m not certain that was necessary. It moves along at its own leisurely pace, occasionally punctuating the background of Sayori, Fumiya, and Hinako with flashbacks, a few of which might not even have been all that germane. Eventually, the supernatural elements get an equally slow reveal, giving audiences a bit of insight as to what these walks in the mountain might mean, and the pace quickens up in response. Also, the picture eventually swings the door open to some strong visuals – the last reel is particularly impressive once the ghost with the most is in high gear – and I would suspect most viewers sat up and paid closer attention. There’s even a late-breaking jump-style scare that’s well articulated, so kudos to all involved for recognizing some great atmosphere when it was needed.
Still, Shikoku – as is – feels a bit longer than it actually runs, and that’s usually an indication that something’s amiss, be it cinematography, narrative framing, or performances.
While I’d stop short of pointing a finger at anyone in particular, I’ll concede that Hinako just didn’t move me in the same way that Sayori or Fumiya did. Part of the problem could be that the script loosely suggests she had a pretty good life – certainly one more vivid than the counterparts she left behind – and, as such, Sayori’s envy does resonate more strongly than it probably should. It might’ve been a better idea to either give her a fault or two or maybe even dial back the actress’ natural beauty – she’s quite fetching – and then she might’ve created the possibility that she was real and not so perfect. When your lead character seemingly gets all of the good stuff out of life, this strengthens the position of those who oppose her; and I don’t think that was intentional here.
The other significant issue is that – as an obvious Horror property – so much of Shikoku just isn’t scary. In some ways, the flick reminds me of 1990’s Ghost with Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore, and Tony Goldwyn. There’s this small group of friends whose unity gets interrupted by an unexpected death; and then those left behind spend the remainder of the story seeking to put their lives back together into whatever shape might endure in the future. Similarly, Sayori has a presence from the beyond – though it takes place in markedly different circumstances – and it’s that revival that places the emotional weight on Fumiya and Hinako to make their choices. The association between the two films helps in small ways, but Shikoku still goes to some dark corners in order to justify its need to be considered horrific.
Shikoku (1999) was produced by Asmik Ace Entertainment, Basara Pictures, Imagica, Kadokawa Shoten Publishing Co., Toho, and a few other participants. (A full accounting can be found on IMDB.com.) DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert – and I’m also not one to gripe and complain about these things – I’d still have to admit to there being a high degree of grain in an awful lot of the film. It may not be all that distracting, but those nighttime scenes are very grainy, indeed. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? For clarity’s sake, I’m doing the ol’ copy & paste from Arrows’ press release published previously on Blu-ray.com:
Recommended.
On a bare bones level, Shikoku (1999) has just about everything that an audience might come to expect from a respectable chiller. It has past friendships that went wrong intruding upon present day circumstances in a dark way. It has a relatively backwoods feel to its rural setting, one that even suggests a bit of Folk Horror for those who like that sort of vibe. It even has a bit of true love gone bad (but gets somewhat good again in the last reel) that figures prominently into the plot, hinting that two’s a charm while three’s an unwelcome party. Still, it moves a bit too slowly, never quite building a head of steam around anything (including about as tame as a love scene you’ll possibly ever see) and never really does all that much with all of these respective pieces, making it just good enough for a single offing but having no real rewatchability whatsoever.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Shikoku (1999) – as part of their J-Horror Rising Limited Edition Blu-ray Collection – by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Shikoku (1999) was produced by Asmik Ace Entertainment, Basara Pictures, Imagica, Kadokawa Shoten Publishing Co., Toho, and a few other participants. (A full accounting can be found on IMDB.com.) DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert – and I’m also not one to gripe and complain about these things – I’d still have to admit to there being a high degree of grain in an awful lot of the film. It may not be all that distracting, but those nighttime scenes are very grainy, indeed. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? For clarity’s sake, I’m doing the ol’ copy & paste from Arrows’ press release published previously on Blu-ray.com:
- Brand new audio commentary on Shikoku by Japanese cinema expert Tom Mes
- The Aftermath, Tom Mes discusses J-Horror at the turn of the millennium
- Something in the Water, a brand new interview with Shikoku director Shunichi Nagasaki
- Archive interviews with director Shunichi Nagasaki and actors Chiaki Kuriyama and Yui Natsukawa on Shikoku
- On-set footage of the filming of Shikoku
- Original trailers and TV spots
- Image galleries
Recommended.
On a bare bones level, Shikoku (1999) has just about everything that an audience might come to expect from a respectable chiller. It has past friendships that went wrong intruding upon present day circumstances in a dark way. It has a relatively backwoods feel to its rural setting, one that even suggests a bit of Folk Horror for those who like that sort of vibe. It even has a bit of true love gone bad (but gets somewhat good again in the last reel) that figures prominently into the plot, hinting that two’s a charm while three’s an unwelcome party. Still, it moves a bit too slowly, never quite building a head of steam around anything (including about as tame as a love scene you’ll possibly ever see) and never really does all that much with all of these respective pieces, making it just good enough for a single offing but having no real rewatchability whatsoever.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Shikoku (1999) – as part of their J-Horror Rising Limited Edition Blu-ray Collection – by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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