So much of Japanese cinema, horror or otherwise, is interested in the mounting societal pressures that its citizens face. It’s an invisible force of nature that can be more powerful and intimidating than any supernatural presence. It can be a suffocating experience to watch someone who has reached their breaking point and has nothing else to lose, especially when such an individual is presented as the film’s protagonist. 

Kiyoshi Kurosawa is a Japanese filmmaker who is responsible for foundational horror films like Pulse, Cure, and the more recent Cloud, which all blur the lines between technology and the supernatural. Chime, a 45-minute film by Kurosawa, is cut from the same cloth and features some of the director’s most haunting work to date. It’s a slow-burning descent into true madness that hits hard and without warning.

Chime presents a cryptic story in which culinary teacher, Takuji Matsuoka (Mutsuo Yoshioka, Never After Dark), sees his life systematically unravel once he’s haunted by a sudden, piercing chime. Kurosawa is smart to keep the story simple and let the audience form their own conclusions about what’s actually going on with Matsuoka. There are shades of Edgar Allen Poe regarding the nature of how this “curse” spreads and Matsuoka’s corresponding breakdown.

However, Chime truly feels like a Junji Ito or Haruki Murakami story brought to life. It successfully sustains an incredible degree of tension for the entire runtime. It’s one of the virtues of why Kurosawa’s latest works best as a 45-minute short instead of expanding the idea into a feature-length endeavor. There’s no need for this perfect premise to dilute itself and overstay its welcome.

Chime had its premiere at the 74th Berlin International Film Festival, but it was initially produced and distributed as an NFT. Kurosawa feels like the perfect director to turn an NFT into a horror film and potentially engage in a broader deconstruction of this medium. However, the unusual nature of this project led many to believe that Chime would never receive a conventional theatrical release and that it would live and die as a piece of traded digital video. 

It was meant to be seen by fans who have either rented or resold it to others, which beautifully echoes the film’s theme, where its central dilemma moves from person to person. It’s not as if this was the entire point of distributing Chime as an NFT, but it’s an appreciated element that adds an extra layer to the film. It’s a clever exercise that highlights the metatextuality that would be possible if a new Ring film were released this way. 

There’s a raw, loose nature to Chime’s structure, even if it does fall into an intentionally formulaic pattern where Matsuoka tries to get through his day as this chime strikes and destroys. This may not seem like much, but it’s consistently engaging. The tension grows from whether Matsuoka really is “chimed” or if this is just a setup to rationalize a man’s seemingly random violent actions. 

Something supernatural may be at work here, or this might just be a broken man who can’t hold it together anymore. The latter is arguably even more frightening than a supernatural sound that triggers evil actions. Chime puts Matsuoka under the microscope, but there’s a broader feeling that reality’s veil is dropping and that the world is ready to collectively give into dark whims. Matsuoka is just one piece of this puzzle that is meant to represent the greater whole. There are moments where Chime operates with the chilling quality of a Mindhunter episode that just chronicles a detached killer’s mundane monotony.

Chime gets lost in the minutiae of Matsuoka’s everyday routine, and he often feels lost in his own world. The cinematography divides Matsuoka from others and leaves him isolated in lonely shots. There are moments in which he disappears from the frame, only to then abruptly strike with an unexpected intensity. He’s a ticking time bomb of anxiety. There’s a bluntness to the film’s brutality and horror that’s meant to disarm and penetrate the artifice of banality. 

Murder is handled in an almost clinical fashion. It’s like it’s all just food that’s being prepped by Matsuoka. To this point, Chime also creatively uses light, shadow, and sound design to perfection. There’s no score present in the film, which gives a more grounded, naturalistic quality that amplifies its bite. The lack of music creates a sterile quality, but there’s such precise, powerful use of metallic noises that reach a cacophonous fever pitch by the conclusion. 

Chime is a small-scale film that truly feels special in its execution, and it’s interested in so much more than simply disturbing the audience. It’s a startling look into the hidden horrors of routine and how easy it can be to lose your identity and gradually become dehumanized through normalcy. The grander points on whether it’s safe to trust our thoughts and how intrusive beliefs can take over our lives will stick with the audience just as much as its alarming setpieces.

Kurosawa’s latest, even through its restraint, creates the feeling that evil has just been released into the world. It’s a title that’s destined to be a deep cut Kurosawa cult classic and the best NFT horror film.

Chime begins screening in limited theaters as part of a double feature with Serpent’s Path on March 27, with an expanded run through April.