Books
[Anime Horrors] Exploring the Emotional Heartache of Junji Ito’s ‘No Longer Human’
Happy New Year and welcome to the first installment of 2020’s Anime Horrors!
Before diving into the main focus of this article, I want to share my gratitude once again for all of those who enjoy this column. This month marks the one year anniversary of Anime Horrors; it has been such an awesome experience to write about and share anime with all of you. This year I’m excited to once again explore all kinds of titles; from the classics to contemporary works, I’ll be covering a wide variety of amazing shows, movies, and manga. So without further ado, let’s begin.
I am kicking 2020 off with a really special review – Junji Ito’s No Longer Human.
Anyone who knows me, or who has followed this column, knows I love the work of Junji Ito. His drawings and stories elicit a profound unease; his utilizing of line work, shadowing, as well as his understanding of the manga medium, allows him to lure readers into surreal nightmares. But No Longer Human is a different type of horror – it is existential horror of the mind, of mental illness and dread.
No Longer Human not only makes for another fantastic release from Ito, but also marks another venture into adaptation. For those unaware, this manga is based on the 1948 novel of the same name (written by Osamu Dazai). The novel is considered Dazai’s masterpiece, with some even speculating that it acted as his suicide letter. The novel contains an autobiographical quality, addressing themes of emotional and mental suffering associated with Dazai’s life. With his manga adaption, released this past December, Junji Ito not only translates the emotional brutality of Dazai’s novel, but he even elevates its air of despair.
No Longer Human follows Ōba Yōzō (who may have been a stand-in for Dazai). Yōzō narrates the plot to the reader, describing his struggles with addiction, relationships, and mental health. Yōzō is introduced as a child from a prestigious family; due to the pressures set forth by his father, as well as his own anxieties, Yōzō strives to make people like him. His extraneous efforts to clown around serve his needs for external validation; eventually, his clowning around leads him to risky behavior with horrifying consequences.
The “horrifying” in this sense is not that of gruesome visuals or otherworldly beings (though these are present throughout the manga); instead, the core that makes up No Longer Human’s horror is that of a permeating despair. Through Yōzō’s narration, the reader comes to understand his internal workings and warped sense of reality. Though nothing is officially stated in the plot, Yōzō displays symptoms related to anxiety and depression, further building upon his constant state of suffering. As the story progresses, Yōzō’s mental state fluctuates, his warped notions leading him to commit a number of hurtful acts upon others.
For all his own personal torment, however, Yōzō is not that great of a person. He is flawed, even cruel at times. With each new chapter, Yōzō’s life continues to spiral into an existence of heartache. The consequences of his actions, as well as his mental state, come together to create a somber experience where the prospect of hope gradually disappears.
As I was reading the manga, I could not help but think about Lars Von Trier’s 2018 film The House That Jack Built. While that film’s protagonist and Yōzō are significantly different people with different beliefs, the essence of their stories are similar to a fascinating degree. Along with the flashback structure they embrace, both narratives share a spiritual similarity in how their protagonists analyze the world and themselves. In the way Von Trier’s Jack ruminates on life and the actions of human beings, Yōzō does the same. Yōzō’s narration not only provides context to his character, it also elevates the story’s emotional impact – No Longer Human isn’t a story just to be read, but to be felt.
For an artist so well known for his striking visuals, No Longer Human proves to be one of Ito’s more fascinating works in regards to plot. That said, Ito does provide unique and haunting artwork to convey the agony of Yōzō’s life. Unlike his past works, however, he does not dive that deeply into gory body horror. Much of the art involves Ito emphasizing body language, portraying depressive moods and unease. The manner in which he depicts empty eyes and uses shadows to heighten internal turmoil displays a unique expansion upon his craft – that beyond the brutality of the body, Ito’s illustrations are able to translate emotional pain. Additionally, there are a few pages that include interesting uses of color.
There and then Ito provides chilling imagery to coincide with the narrative’s moments of supernatural horror. As Yōzō’s psyche worsens at certain points, his and the reader’s understanding of what’s real and what’s a hallucination become muddy. With his artwork, Ito makes the everyday life of Yōzō come across as a nightmare.
No Longer Human is a large work, its pages just passing the 600 mark. If one approaches this manga assuming it will be like Ito’s past titles, please be aware it is not like such – this is a more psychological, plot driven work. Ito’s masterful artwork, as well as the fascinating story, allow No Longer Human to be a superb experience of emotional horror.
It’s ironic that one year ago I began Anime Horrors with a review of another Junji Ito adaptation, being that of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. I’m very excited about where this column will lead in the new year. I hope you check out Junji Ito’s No Longer Human and I look forward to catching up again next month.
Thanks to Viz Media for providing a review copy of No Longer Human. You can find multiple links to purchase No Longer Human, as well as free preview of the story, here.
Books
Netflix Reteams with ‘Emilia Perez’ Director on ‘La Nuit ravagée’ Horror Adaptation
Netflix is reuniting with Emilia Perez director Jacques Audiard on an adaptation of French horror novel La Nuit ravagée, Variety reports today.
The project is described as an elevated horror film based on the critically acclaimed horror novel by Jean-Baptiste Del Amo.
It’s set in “Saint-Auch, a fictional suburb on the outskirts of Toulouse in Southern France, in the early 1990s. It follows a group of teenagers drawn to an abandoned house that exerts a strange power on them. After one of their friends dies under disturbing circumstances, they decide to enter the house, not suspecting it’s alive with something supernatural. Once they enter it, it begins to feed on their private fears, desires, and traumas, turning their psychological vulnerabilities into something monstrous and inescapable.“
The French-language Netflix original marks Audiard’s first foray into horror.
The divisive Emilia Perez, Audiard’s Spanish-language musical crime drama, amassed 13 nominations at the 97th Academy Awards but also met with controversy when offensive tweets by star Karla Sofía Gascón during the film’s award campaign.
Del Amo’s source novel was published last year and has been described as an homage to ’80s and ’90s horror in the vein of Stephen King, though its social realism is what lends itself to the elevated horror concept and Audiard’s attachment to the project.
Stay tuned for more as it arrives.



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