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Haunted by Guilt in Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s ‘Retribution’ [Horrors Elsewhere]

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Horrors Elsewhere is a recurring column that spotlights a variety of movies from all around the globe, particularly those not from the United States. Fears may not be universal, but one thing is for sure a scream is understood, always and everywhere.

The genre output of Kiyoshi Kurosawa is best characterized by atmosphere, ambiguity, and most of all, a perpetual sense of dread. His 2006 movie Retribution — or Sakebi, which translates to “scream” — tenders the same qualities of personal benchmarks as well as rethinks conventions of all contemporary Japanese horror. Retribution revolves around a spate of bizarre murders and the troubled detective investigating them, so Kurosawa enthusiasts immediately think of Cure as they watch this slow burn unfold. The presence of a supernatural element evokes unavoidable comparisons to Pulse and the likes of Hideo Nakata’s Ring, but Kurosawa’s maverick sensibilities still shine through even as he walks down a familiar road.

This film opens on a murder in progress; a woman in a red dress is drowned by an unknown man at a Tokyo waterfront. As the police converge on the site later, Detective Noboru Yoshioka (Kōji Yakusho) is alarmed to find his missing coat button near the victim’s body. Another seed of doubt is planted once Yoshioka’s fingerprints match those found at the crime scene. Aggravating his coiling uncertainties is now the ghost of the woman in red (Riona Hazuki), stalking Yoshioka and accusing him of her murder.

Around the same time, a doctor (Ikuji Nakamura) kills his delinquent son out of fear he will become a burden on society; a woman (Kaoru Okunuki) drowns her lover after he leaves his wife and threatens her own selfhood. The first crime touches on a cultural belief in Japan where the group’s needs take precedence over individuality. The second shows the extremes someone will go to to maintain their autonomy and avoid routines like marriage. In either situation, someone’s disruptive existence jeopardizes the other’s harmony. These two additional murders, both distinguished by a similar M.O. and the fact that each victim died after committing minor indiscretions, are evidence of a growing social illness in the area. However, the assailants are not responsible for the woman in red’s death either. As with Pulse and Takashi Shimizu’s Ju-On series, the supernatural mythology of Retribution is supported by events parallel to the main story.

The father and mistress are incontrovertibly guilty of killing their loved ones, whereas Yoshioka is purported to be innocent. He denies the shrieking ghost’s repeated accusations before and after her death is settled, and up until a pair of gobsmacking twists, audiences believe him. What they suspected all along is off the mark, though. Wrapping the initial mystery up so early may baffle viewers, but Kurosawa is not revealing his cards too early. On the contrary, he is setting up an entirely new game.

Under the cover of twilight and in view of distant traffic, the film’s jane doe expires in a shallow puddle of saltwater. Her violent death echoes the births of other cinematic onryō, or wrathful spirits, that wreak havoc on the living. While the blame evidently lies elsewhere, the spectre coming to Yoshioka is not a case of mistaken identity. The woman in red haunts him and others for a specific reason; her piercing, aghast scream is a rallying cry for those like her. The lithe and unearthly phantom is thereupon a manifestation of both guilty consciences and willful ignorance.

The people caught up in other supernatural daisy chains are often free of any wrongdoing; their involvement is mere happenstance. Innocence notwithstanding, the onus is on them to set things right and put literal spirits to rest. Retribution amends the routine to better fit its knotty story. Everyone visited by the crimson apparition is culpable for something, whether it be a crime they directly committed, or a moral infraction they had no idea they were at fault for — sometimes both. And unlike other films in the genre, there is no perceptible remedy or escape.

Apart from Yoshioka who is really only looking to clear his own name, the police are apathetic toward the original victim, or “F-18” as she is dubbed in the meantime. The cops put a good amount of emotional distance between F-18 and themselves, and as a result, she is seen more as a task to complete than a push for justice. Their indifference, albeit for different reasons, ties into what summons the foreboding spirit. Using the woman in red as his instrument, Kurosawa criticizes those who turn away from someone else’s personal horror. Of course, it is inconceivable to be completely aware of everyone’s pain, but to a ghost driven by her worst moments and utter agony, logic is moot. Instead, she copes by pursuing anyone who disregarded her upon sight. 

Other filmmakers would rather resolve everything as neatly as possible when telling a ghost story, but Kurosawa stays true to form and offers little, if any tangible closure. Additional questions would have inevitably come up had the director included the alternate ending. In its current form, though, the movie is a probing study of the human mind’s darkest corners. The writing is intellectual; conversations dig deep and expose subtext without sacrificing art. So much of the film’s aesthetic says more about the characters and themes than words could. From the emphasis on Tokyo’s drab industrial spaces as opposed to the city’s more attractive sights, to the general instability of physical structures and interpersonal relationships, Kurosawa leaves no stone unturned when exercising his exploration of social troubles, psychological unrest, and crushing guilt.

At first, Retribution comes across as Kiyoshi Kurosawa haunting his own opus. He pinches ingredients from his most renowned films; the frustrated detective on the trail of a killer, and the unfathomable spirits invading the human world. As the last act demonstrates, the movie is more profound and unsettling than its basic pitch ever lets on.

Paul Lê is a Texas-based, Tomato approved critic at Bloody Disgusting, Dread Central, and Tales from the Paulside.

Editorials

Finding Faith and Violence in ‘The Book of Eli’ 14 Years Later

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Having grown up in a religious family, Christian movie night was something that happened a lot more often than I care to admit. However, back when I was a teenager, my parents showed up one night with an unusually cool-looking DVD of a movie that had been recommended to them by a church leader. Curious to see what new kind of evangelical propaganda my parents had rented this time, I proceeded to watch the film with them expecting a heavy-handed snoozefest.

To my surprise, I was a few minutes in when Denzel Washington proceeded to dismember a band of cannibal raiders when I realized that this was in fact a real movie. My mom was horrified by the flick’s extreme violence and dark subject matter, but I instantly became a fan of the Hughes Brothers’ faith-based 2010 thriller, The Book of Eli. And with the film’s atomic apocalypse having apparently taken place in 2024, I think this is the perfect time to dive into why this grim parable might also be entertaining for horror fans.

Originally penned by gaming journalist and The Walking Dead: The Game co-writer Gary Whitta, the spec script for The Book of Eli was already making waves back in 2007 when it appeared on the coveted Blacklist. It wasn’t long before Columbia and Warner Bros. snatched up the rights to the project, hiring From Hell directors Albert and Allen Hughes while also garnering attention from industry heavyweights like Denzel Washington and Gary Oldman.

After a series of revisions by Anthony Peckham meant to make the story more consumer-friendly, the picture was finally released in January of 2010, with the finished film following Denzel as a mysterious wanderer making his way across a post-apocalyptic America while protecting a sacred book. Along the way, he encounters a run-down settlement controlled by Bill Carnegie (Gary Oldman), a man desperate to get his hands on Eli’s book so he can motivate his underlings to expand his empire. Unwilling to let this power fall into the wrong hands, Eli embarks on a dangerous journey that will test the limits of his faith.


SO WHY IS IT WORTH WATCHING?

Judging by the film’s box-office success, mainstream audiences appear to have enjoyed the Hughes’ bleak vision of a future where everything went wrong, but critics were left divided by the flick’s trope-heavy narrative and unapologetic religious elements. And while I’ll be the first to admit that The Book of Eli isn’t particularly subtle or original, I appreciate the film’s earnest execution of familiar ideas.

For starters, I’d like to address the religious elephant in the room, as I understand the hesitation that some folks (myself included) might have about watching something that sounds like Christian propaganda. Faith does indeed play a huge part in the narrative here, but I’d argue that the film is more about the power of stories than a specific religion. The entire point of Oldman’s character is that he needs a unifying narrative that he can take advantage of in order to manipulate others, while Eli ultimately chooses to deliver his gift to a community of scholars. In fact, the movie even makes a point of placing the Bible in between equally culturally important books like the Torah and Quran, which I think is pretty poignant for a flick inspired by exploitation cinema.

Sure, the film has its fair share of logical inconsistencies (ranging from the extent of Eli’s Daredevil superpowers to his impossibly small Braille Bible), but I think the film more than makes up for these nitpicks with a genuine passion for classic post-apocalyptic cinema. Several critics accused the film of being a knockoff of superior productions, but I’d argue that both Whitta and the Hughes knowingly crafted a loving pastiche of genre influences like Mad Max and A Boy and His Dog.

Lastly, it’s no surprise that the cast here absolutely kicks ass. Denzel plays the title role of a stoic badass perfectly (going so far as to train with Bruce Lee’s protégée in order to perform his own stunts) while Oldman effortlessly assumes a surprisingly subdued yet incredibly intimidating persona. Even Mila Kunis is remarkably charming here, though I wish the script had taken the time to develop these secondary characters a little further. And hey, did I mention that Tom Waits is in this?


AND WHAT MAKES IT HORROR ADJACENT?

Denzel’s very first interaction with another human being in this movie results in a gory fight scene culminating in a face-off against a masked brute wielding a chainsaw (which he presumably uses to butcher travelers before eating them), so I think it’s safe to say that this dog-eat-dog vision of America will likely appeal to horror fans.

From diseased cannibals to hyper-violent motorcycle gangs roaming the wasteland, there’s plenty of disturbing R-rated material here – which is even more impressive when you remember that this story revolves around the bible. And while there are a few too many references to sexual assault for my taste, even if it does make sense in-universe, the flick does a great job of immersing you in this post-nuclear nightmare.

The excessively depressing color palette and obvious green screen effects may take some viewers out of the experience, but the beat-up and lived-in sets and costume design do their best to bring this dead world to life – which might just be the scariest part of the experience.

Ultimately, I believe your enjoyment of The Book of Eli will largely depend on how willing you are to overlook some ham-fisted biblical references in order to enjoy some brutal post-apocalyptic shenanigans. And while I can’t really blame folks who’d rather not deal with that, I think it would be a shame to miss out on a genuinely engaging thrill-ride because of one minor detail.

With that in mind, I’m incredibly curious to see what Whitta and the Hughes Brothers have planned for the upcoming prequel series starring John Boyega


There’s no understating the importance of a balanced media diet, and since bloody and disgusting entertainment isn’t exclusive to the horror genre, we’ve come up with Horror Adjacent – a recurring column where we recommend non-horror movies that horror fans might enjoy.

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