Reviews
‘Exit 8’ Review – Liminal Looping Horror Has Endless Creativity But Minimal Plot
Video games’ capabilities of immersing players directly in their horror rarely translate evenly to film. Even more so when the video game in question can be played through in under an hour and favors experiential gameplay over storytelling. Exit 8, based on Kotake Create’s cult game, finds innovation in exploring the game’s structure, creating an immersive experience that has viewers scouring the screen for anomalies along with trapped characters. It’s also a bit too lean in plot.
An extended opening sequence in first-person perspective introduces a timid, asthmatic man (Kazunari Ninomiya) traveling on the subway. He keeps to himself, even as he witnesses a mother being berated by a man over her baby’s crying. As he leaves the train, he receives a call from his ex-girlfriend; she’s pregnant and unsure whether to keep it. Initially paralyzed by indecision, fear, and an asthma attack, the man agrees to meet her at the hospital. But when he attempts to exit the station, he instead finds himself trapped in a sterile backroom purgatory.
Like the game, the rules for the Lost Man are simple: scour the endlessly looping hallway for anomalies. If spotted, turn back immediately. If no anomalies, proceed. If the Lost Man can make eight successful loops, escape awaits.
Director Genki Kawamura gets inventive through simplicity. The brightly lit, pristine white tiled corridor is sparse in detail, ensuring both the Lost Man and the audience can keep track when it comes to spotting anomalies. It’s here where Exit 8 comes closest to capturing the essence of gaming, as much of the film’s fun comes from scouring for clues, picking up on subtle shifts in décor before the characters. In some instances, audiences can note the difference that onscreen characters miss entirely, instilling dread for the inevitable consequence of failure. And failure gets increasingly bizarre and cosmic.
It’s also here where Genki Kawamura adds complexity by toying with the narrative structure, weaving in nonlinear perspectives of the eerie grinning “walking man” (Yamato Kochi) and “the boy” (Kotone Hanase), touching on the prominent theme of guilt. It all ensures that Exit 8 is as unpredictable as it is meticulously crafted.
But the more the Lost Man attempts to find his way out of this twisted Möbius strip, the more the threadbare plotting begins to drag down the dizzying mind trap of horrors. The Lost Man’s arc is entirely driven by his indecision over whether to have the baby or abort, and once the boy fully enters the equation, it loses all nuance to the point of feeling more didactic in its pro-life messaging. That we never get a sense of who the Lost Man is beyond his panicked indecision and paralyzing fears means that the emotional stakes feel too low, to the point where the climax loses a lot of momentum.
Still, what Exit 8 lacks in storytelling, it makes up for in endless creativity. Kazunari Ninomiya capably navigates the physicality of his character’s cowardice and fear, without ever veering into unlikable territory. But the true magic of Exit 8 lies with its impressive ability to recreate the feeling of playing a game, as you find yourself scouring the walls, floors, and ceilings of a cosmic backroom hallway to assist the Lost Man in his search for anomalies. Even when the Lost Man’s story is easy to surmise in advance, there’s no predicting the aural and psychological terrors that await those trapped in Exit 8’s bizarre limbo.
Exit 8 screened at TIFF and releases in theaters on April 10, 2026.
Editor’s Note: This TIFF review was originally published on September 8, 2025.
The Old Testament’s Book of Leviticus has a lot to say about sin and uncleanliness, as well as ritual purity and atonement. The priests within the book, itself a moral metaphor, were frequently corrupt and evil. It’s the perfect title for writer-director Adrian Chiarella‘s powerful feature debut, a searing anthem against the corrosive nature of fear and bigotry.
Talk to Me‘s Joe Bird stars as Naim, a new kid in a small Australian suburb who’s introduced as he’s hanging out with new friend Ryan (Stacy Clausen). Playful ribbing quickly leads to romance between the pair, though one that can only carry on in secret. The town’s prominent religious community, of which Naim’s mom (Mia Wasikowska) is a devout member, doesn’t approve of homosexuality.
When the lovers are outed, they’re subjected to a strange conversion-therapy ritual by a mysterious outsider that marks them as targets for an unrelenting, malevolent entity that takes the form of whoever the afflicted desires most.
If that sounds like It Follows, well, it sort of is. Chiarella refines the horror mechanics and metaphor with much sharper precision, ensuring that the scares and emotional gravity of Naim and Ryan’s terrifying predicament reach their intended impact. Here, the lust-induced curse gets very personal, with the entity offering tantalizing temptation in doppelgänger form, hoping to lure its victim close before brutally ripping them apart.
Chiarella uses this as a launchpad to immerse audiences in the horror of constantly living in fear for simply existing. And it’s here where Leviticus rises above its influences with clear purpose. Through the curse, fleeting moments of tender romance or comfort also breed fear and tension. A discreet kiss leaves the cursed vulnerable in more ways than one; safety doesn’t exist for two young teens simply trying to understand their burgeoning emotions.
Ultimately, though, Leviticus owes much of its success to the tremendous performances by its two leads. Joe Bird and Stacy Clausen deftly navigate all the emotional complexities of coming-of-age in a repressed setting that hits too close to home for any reprieve. While the tenderness beneath Ryan’s machismo endears, it’s Naim’s bone-deep fear and melancholy that’s as heartbreaking as it is compelling.
Naim is scared of his emerging feelings, and it’s exacerbated without any avenue to explore them without violent recourse. The threats aren’t just external but internal as well, and it’s those moral and emotional complexities that transform familiar horror formula into something that feels fresh and timely.
Chiarella injects a few potent jump scares that left the Sundance audience shrieking, but does struggle to stage some of the supernatural sieges. The cold open introduces a previous victim of the curse, but only mildly intrigues with its familiar staging. That’s not to say the entity isn’t scary, though; Clausen in particular is a terrifying menace when in Ryan’s doppelgänger form.
Keeping the focus on the star-crossed lovers was the smart and correct choice, but some plot elements feel underutilized by the succinct conclusion. Wasikowska plays her character too guarded, leaving many questions regarding her background and motives unanswered, even if the film gives her a satisfying end to her arc, for example. The rules, though simple and straightforward, can also bend at whim.
Still, Leviticus is a strong debut with an incisive voice at the helm. Chiarella coaxes poignant, layered performances out of his young leads that ensure that the social horror cuts deep, even if some of the more supernatural components occasionally feel stale. We care deeply about Naim and Ryan’s survival, making Leviticus a tense, atmospheric, and claustrophobic vision of young love in a hateful world.
Leviticus made its world premiere at Sundance and releases in theaters on June 19, 2026.
Editor’s Note: This Sundance review was originally published on January 24, 2026.
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