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 with mostly comic actors and actresses. Why, 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 ever were the young’uns. As I said, you could find plenty of more traditional laughers — the Three Stooges, the Bowery Boys, Abbott and Costello, Tim Conway and Don Knotts, etc., and they’d ape it up on screens big and small for hearty guffaws — and these were the kind of films 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 elated over 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 broadcast on 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 respectable 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.
Next up: 2001’s St. John’s Wort.
Directed by Ten Shimoyama, the script for St. John’s Wort was penned by Goro Nakajima, adapting the 1992 ‘visual novel’ Otogirisō created by Shukei Nagasaka. For those unaware – and I was, so don’t take it personally – visual novels were a type of book by way of video gaming; and – from what I’ve read on Wikipedia.org – they were widely popular in Japan up through 2006, comprising up to seventy percent of the consumer products. As kind of a ‘plot your own adventure’ experience, readers were given the opportunity to follow a wider story by making a handful of interactive choices that could lead to different endings. The film starred Megumi Okina, Yôichirô Saitô, Kôji Ohkura, Reiko Matsuo, and Minoru Terada in prominent roles.
(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 …)
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 with mostly comic actors and actresses. Why, 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 ever were the young’uns. As I said, you could find plenty of more traditional laughers — the Three Stooges, the Bowery Boys, Abbott and Costello, Tim Conway and Don Knotts, etc., and they’d ape it up on screens big and small for hearty guffaws — and these were the kind of films 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 elated over 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 broadcast on 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 respectable 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.
Next up: 2001’s St. John’s Wort.
Directed by Ten Shimoyama, the script for St. John’s Wort was penned by Goro Nakajima, adapting the 1992 ‘visual novel’ Otogirisō created by Shukei Nagasaka. For those unaware – and I was, so don’t take it personally – visual novels were a type of book by way of video gaming; and – from what I’ve read on Wikipedia.org – they were widely popular in Japan up through 2006, comprising up to seventy percent of the consumer products. As kind of a ‘plot your own adventure’ experience, readers were given the opportunity to follow a wider story by making a handful of interactive choices that could lead to different endings. The film starred Megumi Okina, Yôichirô Saitô, Kôji Ohkura, Reiko Matsuo, and Minoru Terada in prominent roles.
(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:
“A game designer, and his girlfriend Nami, drive out to a decrepit mansion she just inherited, to film backgrounds for a new video game called St. John's Wort.”
On hundreds of occasions across SciFiHistory.Net, I’ve mentioned to readers the phrase: “I don’t game.”
There is a huge, huge, huge business within the wider entertainment industry that ties to video gaming; and I’ve often confessed to the readership that I’ve just never been bitten by that bug. I bring this up specifically because it relates to the central issue that kept me from enjoying St. John’s Wort, a kinda/sorta loose cinematic experience that feels very much like the games produced in the U.S. throughout a good portion of the 1990’s (or, at least, the ones I tried to enjoy). Essentially, players would find themselves at a somewhat magical, mystical location; and they’d spend the majority of their interactive time trying to learn some lesson which allowed them to either advance to higher levels of confusion, ‘get back home,’ or simply win the game. Many of the things learned or tasks accomplished were incredibly simplistic (i.e. magic potions under a rock, secret doors hidden behind paintings, etc.); and participants would have to keep track of these various tricks, often required to use them in some specific combination to take the next steps in the world.
I realize that might all sound a bit ambiguous; and that’s exactly why the whole gaming thing never took with me. What some found novel, I found a bit bland. Because I don’t remember bland, I could never quite ‘get into’ the whole journey to far, far away places; and I tuned out gaming as a consequence. Granted, this wasn’t for all electronic games, but you’ll have to trust me when I say that some of the hottest properties followed this basic construct faithfully. Suffice it to say, players used to invest a great deal of time in solving these various riddles because this was what made for a great few hours in front of the computer screen.
In any event, St. John’s Wort reminds me of those fateful days.
Video game designer Nami Kikushima (played by Megumi Okina) is in the midst of crafting what she hopes will be a big video seller when she gets news that her mother has passed, leaving her a small fortune along with Nami’s childhood home. Seeking a bit of inspiration for her new game, Nami and her producer, Kohei Matsudaira (Yôichirô Saitô), travel to the secluded mansion and discovered one bizarre room after another. As the two make their way through the creepy palace, Nami slowly recalls the circumstances of her youth – an artistic but distant father, a possible twin sister, etc. – and she slowly realizes that her repressed past might hold the key to understanding what went on in perhaps one of the spookiest old houses ever brough to life on the silver screen.
Sadly, St. John’s Wort – which had a solid premise – squanders all of its potential with a great deal of slow pacing, even-slower discoveries, and some of the most bizarre cinematography explored in a video game adaptation. Instead of spending any real time creating authentic characters to trap within this nightmarish locale, director Shimoyama engages in an array of post-production trickery, varying the color palate and mixing up various film textures and techniques to give the film what he likely believed would be another layer of – ahem – visual mystery. Well, it succeeded only so much as to keep me asking “what the Hell is he doing” over and over again, and that’s not exactly a good thing. Once several sequences also involved a handful of what were obviously fixed security camera views, it became clear that this theatrical overkill was more important than the characters – much like those games I mentioned above – and I had to consciously resist tuning out on the whole affair.
What makes this a crying shame is the fact that Wort does have a mildly interesting story – yes, Nami had a twin, and he/she lived a dark existence – and an incredibly well-conceived haunted old house with which audiences are generally fascinated. Had Shimoyama dialed back the reliance on weird visuals and constantly shifting angles to simply deliver a central mystery, there might’ve been something special to all of this. Okina and Saitô aren’t compelling enough players to elevate the characters they play to match the jarring intensity of their captured footage, and this lack of investment on the part of the audience will likely have most scratching their heads over what they’re supposed to make of this oddity at best.
“A game designer, and his girlfriend Nami, drive out to a decrepit mansion she just inherited, to film backgrounds for a new video game called St. John's Wort.”
On hundreds of occasions across SciFiHistory.Net, I’ve mentioned to readers the phrase: “I don’t game.”
There is a huge, huge, huge business within the wider entertainment industry that ties to video gaming; and I’ve often confessed to the readership that I’ve just never been bitten by that bug. I bring this up specifically because it relates to the central issue that kept me from enjoying St. John’s Wort, a kinda/sorta loose cinematic experience that feels very much like the games produced in the U.S. throughout a good portion of the 1990’s (or, at least, the ones I tried to enjoy). Essentially, players would find themselves at a somewhat magical, mystical location; and they’d spend the majority of their interactive time trying to learn some lesson which allowed them to either advance to higher levels of confusion, ‘get back home,’ or simply win the game. Many of the things learned or tasks accomplished were incredibly simplistic (i.e. magic potions under a rock, secret doors hidden behind paintings, etc.); and participants would have to keep track of these various tricks, often required to use them in some specific combination to take the next steps in the world.
I realize that might all sound a bit ambiguous; and that’s exactly why the whole gaming thing never took with me. What some found novel, I found a bit bland. Because I don’t remember bland, I could never quite ‘get into’ the whole journey to far, far away places; and I tuned out gaming as a consequence. Granted, this wasn’t for all electronic games, but you’ll have to trust me when I say that some of the hottest properties followed this basic construct faithfully. Suffice it to say, players used to invest a great deal of time in solving these various riddles because this was what made for a great few hours in front of the computer screen.
In any event, St. John’s Wort reminds me of those fateful days.
Video game designer Nami Kikushima (played by Megumi Okina) is in the midst of crafting what she hopes will be a big video seller when she gets news that her mother has passed, leaving her a small fortune along with Nami’s childhood home. Seeking a bit of inspiration for her new game, Nami and her producer, Kohei Matsudaira (Yôichirô Saitô), travel to the secluded mansion and discovered one bizarre room after another. As the two make their way through the creepy palace, Nami slowly recalls the circumstances of her youth – an artistic but distant father, a possible twin sister, etc. – and she slowly realizes that her repressed past might hold the key to understanding what went on in perhaps one of the spookiest old houses ever brough to life on the silver screen.
Sadly, St. John’s Wort – which had a solid premise – squanders all of its potential with a great deal of slow pacing, even-slower discoveries, and some of the most bizarre cinematography explored in a video game adaptation. Instead of spending any real time creating authentic characters to trap within this nightmarish locale, director Shimoyama engages in an array of post-production trickery, varying the color palate and mixing up various film textures and techniques to give the film what he likely believed would be another layer of – ahem – visual mystery. Well, it succeeded only so much as to keep me asking “what the Hell is he doing” over and over again, and that’s not exactly a good thing. Once several sequences also involved a handful of what were obviously fixed security camera views, it became clear that this theatrical overkill was more important than the characters – much like those games I mentioned above – and I had to consciously resist tuning out on the whole affair.
What makes this a crying shame is the fact that Wort does have a mildly interesting story – yes, Nami had a twin, and he/she lived a dark existence – and an incredibly well-conceived haunted old house with which audiences are generally fascinated. Had Shimoyama dialed back the reliance on weird visuals and constantly shifting angles to simply deliver a central mystery, there might’ve been something special to all of this. Okina and Saitô aren’t compelling enough players to elevate the characters they play to match the jarring intensity of their captured footage, and this lack of investment on the part of the audience will likely have most scratching their heads over what they’re supposed to make of this oddity at best.
St. John’s Wort (2001) was produced by Kadokawa Shoten, Asmik Ace Entertainment, Toho, and Imagica. 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, I found the provided sights and sounds to be acceptable, at best: far too many sequences rely on the constantly shifting visual tones of the picture, so much so that I’m surprised everyone involved felt this one should be released as is to the general public. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?
I don’t generally say all that much about audio commentaries, but I will suggest to those investing time with Wort to check out Amber T’s track on this one if – after watching the film – you do wish to know more. This is one of the first times I feel a commentary is ‘required viewing’ to understanding what it is that Wort both set out to do and ultimately achieved, though you might end up disagreeing with the Japanese film expert. My point is that she explains the flick on a level that made me appreciate the effort; without her insights, my score on this would be even lower.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
To my dismay, St. John’s Wort is such a mixed bag of ideas and execution that it’s hard to encourage others to spend time with it … well, except for purists and fans of the truly out there. Its characters are just too flat, and their single dimensionality grows more obvious as the flick’s visuals grow more and more artistic and occasionally experimental. Had as much effort been expended on delivering folks worth following on this macabre journey, then this could’ve been something modestly special. As it is? A stunningly great haunted house – complete with a small army of bodies, secret rooms, and anything else you could want in a location – is wasted on little more than camera trickery.
In the interest of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Inugami (2001) – 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
- Brand new audio commentary on St. John's Wort by Japanese cinema expert Amber T.
- The Making of St. John's Wort, archival featurette
- Archive interviews with St. John's Wort actors Megumi Okina, Koichiro Saito, Reiko Matsuo and Koji Okura
- On-set behind-the-scenes footage of the filming of St. John's Wort
- Original trailers and TV spots for St. John's Wort
- Image galleries
I don’t generally say all that much about audio commentaries, but I will suggest to those investing time with Wort to check out Amber T’s track on this one if – after watching the film – you do wish to know more. This is one of the first times I feel a commentary is ‘required viewing’ to understanding what it is that Wort both set out to do and ultimately achieved, though you might end up disagreeing with the Japanese film expert. My point is that she explains the flick on a level that made me appreciate the effort; without her insights, my score on this would be even lower.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
To my dismay, St. John’s Wort is such a mixed bag of ideas and execution that it’s hard to encourage others to spend time with it … well, except for purists and fans of the truly out there. Its characters are just too flat, and their single dimensionality grows more obvious as the flick’s visuals grow more and more artistic and occasionally experimental. Had as much effort been expended on delivering folks worth following on this macabre journey, then this could’ve been something modestly special. As it is? A stunningly great haunted house – complete with a small army of bodies, secret rooms, and anything else you could want in a location – is wasted on little more than camera trickery.
In the interest of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Inugami (2001) – 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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