Based upon the novel by Otsuichi, GOTH is about two morbid high school students who share a fascination with murder. Kamiyama (Hongo Kanata) is an outwardly friendly and popular boy who hides his potentially sociopathic nature with a carefree, happy attitude. Loner Morino (Takanashi Rin), on the other hand, does little to hide her strange nature; she never smiles, doesn’t interact with her classmates, and wears a long-sleeved, black school uniform even during the middle of summer. While these two seem to share little in common and do not interact with each other in front of their peers, their shared interest in death and murder has turned them into an unusual duo. Initially happy to exchange books on morbid subjects, a series of recent murders spark their interest and they begin investigating the killer. This serial killer has a fondness for cheerful young women and, after severing their left hand as a trophy, displays their dead bodies in public locations to be discovered. After Morino discovers the killer’s notebook in a local café, the two use it to see the corpses for themselves before discovery and attempt to discern his identity. Obviously, the closer they get to discovering him, the more danger they are in.

While the premise can easily sound like a standard horror flick, GOTH is much more than it appears to be. The film is rarely gruesome and is not a horror film in the sense that it attempts to scare or sicken the audience. Like the serial killer and the protagonists, GOTH is interested in death and the act of murder as an aesthetic philosophy and the result is an extremely intriguing film. Directed by Takahashi Gen (working with cinematographer Ishikura Ryuji) has created a beautiful, thoughtful movie that unfolds in the typical Japanese ‘slice-of-life’ fashion; the slow moving plot is uninterested in rushed revelations and most of the film takes place in empty classrooms, an eccentric café, and quiet bedrooms. Working with cinematographer Ishikura Ryuji, Takahashi also gives GOTH a surreal look with an emphasis on light and shade. The overexposed white gives the characters a ghostly appearance, particularly the strikingly beautiful Takanashi Rin. Like the character’s fascination, the atmosphere of the film is filled with death. While people tend to repress thoughts of mortality and murder, the serial killer’s fascination with displaying dead bodies in public locations demonstrates just so quickly and subtly death can creep into our lives. In one of the first scenes, a breezy summer day in a park is slowly tainted when two old women discover that the lovely woman seated in the center of the camera frame has been dead all along; her corpse unnoticed by the people seated so close to her. A beautiful walk through the lushly green foliage of a Japanese countryside is interrupted by the body of a dead woman seated on a red armchair. Despite her unnatural placement, the girl appears to have simply fallen asleep while reading. The soundtrack reinforces this sinister air with an impressively ambient quality that highlights the innocence of the protagonists and the threat looming around them; the innocence of the murder victims and the fate they encountered.

Personally, I found the threat of the serial killer to be one of the less intriguing aspects of the film. A much more pressing concern is the relationship between Kamiyama and Morino. While Morino’s obsession with death can be connected back to the accidental hanging of her sister, Kamiyama appears much more sinister. Both characters are uninterested in right, wrong, and morality, but Kamiyama displays several characteristics of a sociopath – a lack of empathy towards others, a lack of emotion, the ability to easily deceive people, etc. As it becomes clear that Morino fantasizes about being murdered, Kamiyama clearly fantasizes about murdering people. This creates a tense ambiguity between the two characters and forces the audience to wonder if Kamiyama would kill Morino if the opportunity ever presented itself.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MGXf7KI0n4c

The film can drag on a bit and the conclusion of GOTH emphasizes a cathartic revelation about the protagonists rather than a narrative resolution about the serial killer. Obviously the plot device that allows Morino to just coincidentally discover the serial killer’s notebook feels forced and several characters seem superfluous. However, the performances delivered by Hongo Kanata and Takanashi Rin are truly top notch. GOTH isn’t a film for the standard consumer of J-horror, but it is a thoughtful and intriguing meditation on death and mortality. In short, GOTH is a film that is much more than it appears to be and one of the more impressive Japanese films I’ve seen this year. You can currently stream this film via JapanFlix.com.

Uzumaki is a little reminder that pretty much anything goes when it comes to Japanese horror. I first watched this film about 10 years ago when I just a young impressionable girl, not knowing that the world was full of things more terrifying than ghosts and Leatherface, so here I am to warn you about the abstract concept of…Killer spirals! Ok, who am I kidding here really? I doubt many of you are losing sleep at night from contemplating the likelihood of a vortex opening under your bed and swallowing you whole, so what are the odds that this film is actually frightening?

Uzumaki begins at quite a dreamy pace in the sleepy town of Kurouzucho. Teenagers and potential love interests, Kirie and Shuichi, are a bit worried about Shuichi’s father’s eyebrow-raising obsession with spirals; filming snail shells, creating whirlpools in his miso soup and building himself a little garage/fun house where he keeps all of his spiral related objects. Eventually his fascination spirals out of control (see what I did there) and soon enough he’s climbing into the washing machine to get a ‘point of view’ spiral shot. Needless to say he doesn’t survive and the outcome is a tad grotesque. But this is just the beginning, as a teenager’s hair becomes oddly curly it begins to take over her brain (weird) some guy becomes so fixated with the vortex that he twists his body in the most disturbing way to form a spiral shape (weirder) and then of course, people start turning into snails (What?)

This is one freakin’ outlandish film. And not only is it the bizarre goings on but the filming too is a bit odd; shots are flipped and tilted sideways, there is a strange green tint when you know that something freaky is about to occur, random cuts of people walking but played in reverse, and quite frankly sinister, distorted close ups of peoples’ faces (reminiscent of Soundgarden’s ‘Black Hole Sun’) in which bulging eyes spin in opposite directions. Gross. What starts as a slow beginning soon escalates to frantic proportions until everyone (except for the teenage couple and a journalist who seem unexplainably immune) goes totally round the bend.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZDUD8IAKQ7A

So, back to the previous question, is it actually scary? No… Hmm well, yes. Sort of, but not really. To be honest it’s just weird in a thoroughly creepy way. It gave me a few chills while watching it, though they were down to the unpleasant and quite often sudden imagery, it’s the kind that tickles the back your neck when you find yourself staring at the screen in disbelief. I myself wouldn’t consider it a horror, maybe somewhere along the lines of a fantasy/thriller with a little bit of romance thrown in? The insanity never really gets explained, nobody really knows where this sudden vortex inclination came from, and the ambiguous ending might leave you baffled, but then what plausible reason could be given for events of this nature? Exactly. So, if you’d like to watch a film which makes sense then you should perhaps give it a miss (though, if that’s what you’re after you are almost certainly on the wrong website.) The cinematography is intense, the creativity is marvellous and there are plenty ‘What the hell?’ moments. It is wonderfully, disturbingly surreal and for that reason I think everyone needs to see it at least once.

“I only like it if it hurts.“

Masumara’s purveyance of the neorealist aesthetic to accomplish this unique fantasy/horror film is not only notable for its historical significance but also for its fearlessness. However, despite its controversial content, the film is ultimately about the artist and his art: the fixation, the obsession, and the funeral. We, the audience, are presented with these exaggerated characters and encouraged to reflect upon the global meanings which affect and are affected by humanity.

An obsessive blind man named Michio and his domineering mother abduct a fashion model named Aki Shima. His intention is to prove to the world that a new genre of art exists; a genre by and for the blind, only to be truly appreciated by touch. Before her abduction, Aki witnesses Michio at an art gallery, fondling a statue in her image. She cannot comprehend how this could cause her pleasure, but this elixir of repulsion and egotism is a strange but common brew. Later, he poses as a masseuse and caresses her sensually before capturing her and bringing her to his lair. He is a sculptor himself, having molded all the body parts in his grotesque warehouse over the course of six years. The body parts were modeled (from memory no less) after all the women he had caressed during his former stint as a masseuse. His father’s inheritance assisted with this construction. The oedipal connections in this film are numerous and certainly not subtle (are the enormous body parts in his studio a reflection of his original touch of a woman: his mother?) but they can also be brought into the discussion of art. Art, beheld by the artist, is larger than life; a sensuous experience gripping the very soul of the creator until one of them dies. Indeed, Masumara implies that the male-driven significance of Michio as the artist suggests that the violence inherent in the act of creation (be it by god, big bang, or sex) is a male attribute. The masculine drive is derived, executed, and justified through violent and selfish means (war has been instigated and perpetrated throughout history by men). This also lends the film a symbolic criticism beyond merely art but to the very nature of man himself.

The acting in the film is impeccable. Eiji Funakoshi’s performance as Michio is flawless and entirely convincing. Not once does he look directly at anyone and yet his “gaze” is intense. He is villainous yet oddly sympathetic, not because of his ocular handicap necessarily but for the inescapable prison he has made for himself (enabled by his mother of course) – quite the antithesis of Fini Straubinger in Herzog’s masterpiece, Land of Silence and Darkness. Mako Midori as Aki is equally convincing, but her behavior becomes more believable as the film progresses. The audience is essentially taking this journey with Aki and will become slowly desensitized to the impending violence. Noriko Sengoku plays the mother with just the right amount of obsessive protectionism (and yes, I’m referring to the economic policy) and heart-felt conviction. The character of the mother is a typical Freudian formula. Aki uses this as a weapon throughout the film and it ultimately results in death. The music is typical horror film fare, but there are also tense moments of silence which are very effective.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SG34PFaQJgE

Aki narrates the film but it is apparent early on that she is unreliable (my favourite type of narrator). There are numerous questions that arise throughout the film. Why was she at the gallery? Her voyeuristic tendencies are nearly as advanced as Michio; indeed, by the end, her inhibitions are expunged and her inner nature is revealed. The ending of the film is entirely logical within the deranged mind of this obsessive artist; it is after all, merely intensifying the climatic abstraction of the artistic endeavour. It is shocking for a reason. The end of a work of art for the artist is a funeral; a celebration and a mourning from which there is nothing wholesome or civilised, only methods of self-indulgence.

“This is a tale of things not of this world.”

Directed by the masterful Nobuo Nakagawa (The Ghost of Yotsuya), Jigoku is a simple tale of bad luck. As surreal as a dream yet rooted in real-world mechanics and consequences, the film is a horrific vision of hellish implications. The last production by Shintoho Studio, Jigoku is a horror masterpiece. The first half of the film takes place in the physical world; the world we are living in now, in relative harmony. The second half of the film takes place in hell, where sinners must suffer anguish forever; dying and being reborn, from one form of pain to another. It is a dark place, where one can be engulfed in flames whilst hanging upside down with a spike through the throat and still be able to carry on a conversation. There, the dead are unforgiving and ever-accusing; here, they are silent.

Shiro is a theology student who has just recently announced his engagement to Yukiko, the daughter of his professor, Mr. Yajima. Tamura (played by the wonderful, Yoichi Numata) is a fellow student and is not highly regarded by Yukiko’s parents (there are hints that Tamura was once a spurned suitor). One night, Shiro and Tamura are driving home. Shiro asks Tamura to take a side street. A drunken man (Kyoichi) stumbles into the road and is run over and dies. Tamura speeds off; Shiro imploring him to turn around and help the man, neither of them aware that Kyoichi’s mother witnessed the entire incident. Kyoichi turns out to be Yakuzza. Tamura uses this as support for his argument that they should feel no remorse for the occurrence and even blames Shiro for suggesting an unfamiliar road. Shiro, however, feels desperately guilty. He confides in Yukiko about the event and they decide to go to the police station and confess everything. She prefers to walk but Shiro insists on taking a taxi. The cab driver loses control and Yukiko is killed in the accident. Shiro descends into depression and meets Yoko at a strip bar who has plotted with Kyoichi’s mother, to revenge Kyoichi’s death. Shiro moves to the country to care for his ailing mother, Ito. He meets his mother’s nurse, Sachiko, who looks frighteningly similar to Yukiko (both played by Utako Mitsuya). There’s a certain real-world menace to the tenants of the retirement community Ito has been housed in. Her husband is openly having an affair, a criminal painter works labouriously on a rendition of hell (then burns it of course), a doctor who refuses to admit his inaccurate diagnoses, and others of dubious nature. In fact, there’s so much corruption, selfishness, and greed that the only characters depicted in soft light are Yukiko and Sachiko. All of the others have something to hide, murder is frequent and quickly forgotten, and everyone exploits everyone else. Ito dies and, only coincidentally, everyone is celebrating the tenth anniversary of the community. The prelude to the “hell section” of the film is an absurd bloodbath that is just as terrifying as anything in the following section.

The final forty minutes of the film is a continuous succession of madness and mayhem wherein these characters are tortured. The torment is relentless and mocking; it is hell, or rather, a series of hells strung across, one may presume, eternity. Shiro does seem to be an innocent though (or, at the very least, naive): fate’s whipping boy. “The blood flowing in these hands are cursed!” he declares, and he’s probably right. He discovers Yukiko was pregnant with a girl (Yukiko names her Harumi) and begins searching hell for her. There are definite similarities to Dante’s Inferno (theatricality included) throughout the film and indeed, it plays out like some twisted fable; as long as one feels guilt for an action, they are held responsible by Lord Enma of the Eight Realms of Hell – not a very understanding being.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z45fCTOxci8

The entire film is driven by Shiro’s unfortunate decisions and chance. These decisions are not born of selfishness or even premeditation, but are seemingly trivial common choices all of us make everyday. This heightens the horrific aspect of the film because it grounds all of these occurrences in reality – all great horror films require this. “Everything hinges on fate,” one of the characters in the film says. All horror films rely on this principle: fear is inescapable.

So-Yeon suffers from claustrophobia due to a traumatic incident that occurred to her as a child. So-Yeon is still treated for her condition to this day. She works as a groomer at a pet shop. One day, a cat named Bidanyi comes into the store. The next day, the owner of Bidanyi is found dead in an elevator. So-Yeon, by request from police officer Joon-Suk, takes the cat home. Shortly later, So-Yeon starts to see a mysterious young girl. She becomes more frightened. Then, So-Yeon’s good friend Bo-Hee is found dead. Near Bo-Hee, there is a cat which Bo-Hee recently adopted from an animal shelter. So-Yeon now fears for her own life, as she believes the cat is not what it appears to be. So-Yeon and Joon-Suk investigate deeper into the mysterious case, unraveling the mysteries behind the young girl and cat.

With the abundant films stemming from the Korean horror scene being highly influenced by the likes of Japanese films such as the Hideo Nakata’s Ring (1998) and Takashi Shimizu’s The Grudge (2002), it should come at no surprise that director Byun Seung-Wook’s unimaginatively titled film The Cat, decides to closely follow suit. Delivering a formula that harkens back to a tried-and-true premise centering on a possessive spirit—this time taking the form of beloved feline as it wreaks havoc upon the film’s characters—this is one premise that isn’t exactly unconventional. If you are in any way familiar with having seen the above mentioned films, then The Cat presents a tale that shouldn’t surprise nor appear as creative to viewers, simply because we’ve seen this narrative done before—and better. But the film does have some redeeming qualities that keep it from being seen simply as another banal attempt at Korean horror.

If anything, The Cat is beautifully shot. The cinematography is above par for a horror film, which truly makes it a great joy to view. Whether it’s a scene showcasing the intricacies of a spiral staircase or the dampness of a dilapidated cellar, the film successfully builds upon a tension through its environments. But what the film struggles with is its reliance on timeworn elements of horror that do little to elevate the film to something original and inventive. With an assortment of jump scares that work more often than not, the film isn’t very frightening unless you are one of the viewers who have abstained from viewing any Asian horror film in the last decade. With this mind, the film isn’t nearly as scary as it is bizarre, mainly because it focuses on one of civilization’s most loved animals as it terrifies and murders individuals. Without this gimmicky element of the narrative, The Cat would have easily become yet another fraudulent attempt at reimagining The Grudge, and in many instances isn’t too far removed from it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kNBP7pi5WXE

The acting by veteran Korean drama actress and model Park Min-Young is convincing enough to pardon some of the film’s flaws though. Acting as her debut film appearance, she handles the lead quite well, bringing forth the emotional backing needed given the narrative, an aspect that certainly derives from her drama acting experience. Given that this is her first experience in film, it would be wonderful to see in the future, perhaps in a more fitting dramatic role rather than horror. For where it stands as a horror film, The Cat looks fantastic and features some considerable acting on part of its lead, but it’s also riddled with clichés that ultimately bring it down a notch. Perhaps if director Byun Seung-Wook’s approach would have deviated from many of the ploys found in other, significantly better horror films, The Cat would’ve stood out as a unique horror experience—at least the attempt to present an imaginative premise is worth praise, even if it isn’t totally original.

Japanese cinema in the 1960′s was marked by a wave of ghost stories. Onibaba was a great example of this as it was shot by the same director, Kaneto Shinda. A group of marauding Samurai seeking food exits the forest where they come across a house that should have what they require. On entering the house they find it has what they want and a lot more….it has women too. I’m sure you can use your imagination to figure out the horrific events which follow after that. At the same time, this is a meditative and elegaic movie that acted much like a Kabuki play and the story is a very powerful one.

These two women come back as ghosts and what follows is an introduction to how they take revenge, trapping wandering samurai into their pit of hell. The first samurai learns that the Daughter in laws husband Hachi, has been at war for three years and has still not returned. The daughter in law then proceeds to seduce the Samurai, before she brutally attacks him, devouring his throat and sucking his blood. But it’s also a love story, because the daughter’s husband was forced to fight, and he returns after years of absence. The underlying tragic story of lost love is also dealt with brilliantly by Shindo who is on fine form again.

The swamp location is a perfect setting for the film to take place and director Shindo takes full advantage of it, especially during the scenes where the younger of the two women is leading the stray, egotistical Samurai to their inevitable deaths. This is a classic, old-school, Japanese ghost story, told at a measured pace and more creepy than shocking (which means it may not hold the attention of restless viewers who demand a rock’em-sock’em, CGI rollercoaster ride). The cherry on top? Criterion has produced and elegantly handled this film with extreme care and it has never looked better. The characters move with the ritual formality that I love in certain Japanese films, and the story moves on with the ruthless intensity of a Noh drama.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PmNhYzQMQtU

Kuroneko is simply one of the best ghost/horror films ever made. The stylized nature of the film creates the feeling “haunting” in a way that few horror films could ever even imagine. The aesthetics informed many other ghost stories, particulary those from Asia, for example A Chinese Ghost Story, but few other films are as undiluted as Kuroneko. The ghost make-up at the end is nothing short of impressive either, as there’s some real chills to be found from their look in these scenes. These here are the film’s best points. While not the fastest-moving film around, there’s still plenty of stuff here to like about this one, making it one of the top entries around. Give it a shot if you’re into that kind of film or a fan of Asian horror cinema, though those who can’t enjoy the films should seek elsewhere.

Girl group “Pink Dolls” is always pushed into the background by other popular idols. When the girls release their new song “White” – a remake from unknown origins they become instant sensations. The four members of “Pink Dolls” include Eun-Joo, a former breakdancer, Jenny, a singer insecure with hitting high notes, A-Rang, a singer addicted to plastic surgery, and Shin-Ji who can’t sing, but is good at rappng and singing. As the group becomes more and more popular, jealousy and competitiveness increases as all the girls’ tries to become the lead singer. But, when a member becomes the lead singer that person falls victim to a horrible accident, one by one. Eun-Joo then realizes that the song “White” is cursed and she attempts to reveal the secret.

Focusing on two aspects that should appease the commercial crowd—k-pop and horror—White: The Melody of the Curse doesn’t necessarily attempt to break any new ground in terms elevating the horror genre—but then again, does it have to? With acclaimed indie directors Kim Gok & Kim Sun at the helm and a cast that includes real-life singer Eun Jung (of South Korean girl group T-ara), a pop-centered soundtrack, and plenty of scary “boo” moments throughout, White is a film that attempts to please both the k-pop crowd and horror crowd, in the end providing an awkward juxtaposition that doesn’t successfully accommodate either. What we are presented with is an odd mixture of themes that can be seen in director Darren Aronosky’s Black Swan (2010) and Hideo Nakata’s Ringu (1998), with the latter film being highly influential in regards to many Korean horror films in the last decade, and as such, this film as well. Throughout the film’s running time we are presented with a longhaired ghost woman, an old videotape that contains a cursed song and even bizarre Final Destination-esque accidents—all inclusions that have been done better in previous films.

Despite the rather banal handling of the elements of horror within White: The Melody of the Curse, it does somewhat rescue itself from being a complete disappointment by exploring the dynamics of the music industry in a rather authentic light—although rather superficially. While the premise of inner-group rivalry and domineering management is something that does indeed happen within the industry—in many cases often leading to devastating consequences, as the film points out—it remains an aspect that raises it above being simply a clichéd horror film. It was interesting to see the development and deterioration of the pop group as a whole, with each member vying for the number one spot of being the main lead. With the rather drastic measures one goes to in order to be attain such a position, the film doesn’t hold back in showing the cruelty that coincides with being the lead singer in a pop group. This is especially shown in the character Eun-Joo, played here by Eun Jung. Faced with the task of being the oldest member of the group, she is ridiculed and bullied, with other members of the group going as far as labeling her has-been that is weighing the group down. Seeing her character transform from being a victim to one who takes control of her destiny is both surprising and disturbing to witness, and is an aspect of the film that would’ve worked out incredibly well minus the elements of horror being thrown in.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YMAV2givYqA

As such, White: The Melody of the Curse is a film that works quite well in the delivering the group dynamics that dominant the Korean pop industry, but unfortunately saddles it with cliché elements of horror that don’t necessarily support its premise. If more time was given towards exploring the rivalry between the group members—and if the horror elements lessened—the film would have provided a more satisfying look into the music industry as a whole. As for where it currently stands, White: The Melody of the Curse isn’t an awful film, just one that is seemingly puzzled as to what it wants to accomplish: is it a horror, an authentic look at the vicious nature of the music industry, or perhaps both? Hopefully directors Kim Gok & Kim Sun brush off the rather trite elements of horror for their next film, if only to remedy the cumbersome narrative sadly found here.

Four students are heading back to their college in Kuantan, after a night out in Kuala Lumpur, when they encounter massive traffic on the Karak highway. In an attempt to make it back in time for their classes in the morning, they decide to exit the highway and take an alternative route back to Kuantan via the old single carriageway trunk road…. not knowing that this decision would change their lives forever. Sounds cliche right? Well, it isn’t what you think it is and that has to do mainly with the fact that horror films from Malaysia don’t get much play or exposure. It is definitely something different for fans of the genre. I didn’t expect much but I got what I saw, and to me, it was almost a comedy mixed into a wannabe horror flick. Many of the scenes are too simplistic or illogical that maybe logic does not even exist in their world. Prior to watching this film I didn’t even know about Karak or its existence. Apparantely, there are plenty of real-life urban legends and ghostly stories associated with the back roads of Karak.

In short, this isn’t a ground breaking film yet in Malaysia, as long as it is a horror movie, it will rake in alot of money. The opening scene with the flying creature eating the husband was good and creepy and scary. Dare I say it, right up there with the murder of Drew Barrymore in Scream. I really like the small details that they had with the main ghost in the movie, the one with the long hair and can levitate herself. If you had been watching closely to the face of the ghost, it changes alternately from a hideous ghost to the looks of a woman, maybe portraying the looks of its previous master. This film works on multiple levels because it is tied in with real life myths. Although, not the scariest film, it does make for unsettling feelings because you can always ‘google’ these real life occurances and stories.

As a Malaysian ghost movie, I can say this is one of the best. But whether it will be Malaysia’s best films this year, well, I do not think so. The first 1/3 of the movie is really good and would satisfy horror movie fans. The rest of the movie? Just leave logic and brain at the door and enjoy. There are also some verses in this film that makes the audience laughed uproariously (I watched a cam version of the film) and it really took the serious tone away from what the filmmakers were trying to achieve. So to conclude, you should have a pretty good idea whether or not this film will be up your alley. In terms of travel and the arrangement of the story, it is very good but the execution is a bit off and the humor really bogs down the horror aspects.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0WmmQup3z5w

The scene really set the expectations in my mind about the movie. And when they stopped at Karak town, the mood from the opener was still strong and the scare/horror kept on coming. Although I do detest the usage of loud music just to scare people or make them jump, there were genuine scares and horror abound. In my book that evens things out but the lowest point of the film is this will never see the light of day stateside, so please go out on the web and track it down. Films like this need buzz to generate interest overseas and this is definitely a film that I can support as it delivers a new direction of genre blending horror films. There are suggestions of ambition, of a desire to infuse the characters with greater control of their own destiny, but in the end, this film doesn’t move any mountains.

The dynamics in The Matrimony are fascinating. It doesn’t play out like your old run-of-the-mill Chinese horror film. The film opens with a lady relating a drama in front of a microphone at a radio station. She lives in the shadow of Junchus lover Manli who was killed the year before. Lonely and despairing for the survival of her marriage, Sansan enters into a pact with Manlis ghost to win Junchus heart. From this point on the story develops as a clash between Junchu gradually accepting Sansan and slowly the ghost of Manli reveals herself and now in the corporal status of Sansun she appears to Juncho – but is it too late, and how will the transfigured ghost of Manli secure her position in Junchu’s life? A lovely film deserving of a wider audience and, certainly not routine or clichéd.

But the film does toss us a ringer at the end, an ambiguous but strangely satisfying little coda that suggests Teng might have been more interested in playing a metaphysical card than telling a love story or a ghost story all along. But, that is for you to watch and become engaged. The cinematography is superb, with Shanghai of the 50s brought to gorgeous, vibrant life. It is this exact element that makes the story unfold in a very creative way which makes it seem very new and hip, even if it’s just basically a haunting ghost story set way back in the day.

This is in fact a Tartan Asia Extreme release. If you are not familiar with them, they love to use gory images on their box cover art even if a film has little to no gore. The results are usually always misleading. Ignore the rubbish packaging, which suggests something like the movie Saw, and instead check it out if you’re after something safe, sweet and surprisingly likeable. Also, the film comes off a thrilling 84 minutes and with such a short running time, the film moves along at a brisk pace. The story is also told with Gothic finesse accompanied by a delicate musical score by Sin-yun Lee and Norman Orenstein. And their relationship develops in believable ways as their shared past is revealed in flashbacks. This really is a story of love lost AND love found, and the principle actors bring real depth to the narrative.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uk4MFHg6ZRs

Extras included on this release are Cast and Crew interviews with behind the scenes footage and some trailers. Sadly, I would have loved to see more from this release. Perhaps just as significant, this release marks the return from the grave of Tartan Asia Extreme, one of the better genre labels that bring foreign cinema to the United States. If you enjoy atmospheric ghost tales then this is definitely a title you will want to watch. Just don’t go in expecting anything groundbreaking, instead you get an enjoyable ghost story that is well acted and looks great.

The extent in which some individuals will go to in order to fulfill a prized desire can be absolutely ghastly at times—especially when it involves murder. Director Ho-Cheung Pang’s film Dream Home explores this concept of desire through the most shocking of actions, going as far as exploring the obsessive nature that stems from such materialistic endeavors. Linking back to a childhood memory of her family being displaced from their home by land developers for the purpose of building an apartment complex, the film follows the plight of Hong Kong telemarketer Cheng Lai-Sheung (played here by Josie Ho) as she wrestles with her obsession to essentially reclaim the domain she once lost. Overworked and with the price of occupancy at the apartment complex steadily increasing, we find Cheng Lai-Sheung executing a desperate plan to lower the paying price at the complex through a rather disturbing undertaking—by viciously murdering a portion of its tenants.

First and foremost, Dream Home is a horror film. From the focus on severed throats to the elongated loss of spilt entrails, the film is perhaps one of the most gruesome depictions of bodily harm to be release within Hong Kong cinema for some time. Considering this is quite a departure for director Ho-Cheung Pang—whose recent films have been primarily within the genres of comedy and drama—Dream Home starts out with a grisly murder and continuously establishes sequence after sequence of escalating carnage. Couple this with some of the most creatively comical ways in which certain individuals are butchered and you have a film that is darkly humorous at times. This use of comedy certainly alleviates the seriousness of the film’s material, but it may have the opposite effect towards those viewers willing to do without the comical elements within horror films. And while the film does weigh heavy on the brutality of Cheng Lai-Sheung’s killing spree, there are elements of drama intersperse throughout that allow us to sympathize with the her situation. This is not to say that her rather vicious actions are justifiable but we do see the development of a character that isn’t simply viewed as an individual without much back-story or purpose for their inappropriate deeds. With our introduction to her is viewed through a scene of ruthless homicide, the film slowly explores her initially simplistic reasoning for her wanted to have such an apartment complex in the first place.

It’s this character development that makes Dream Home far more than simply another horror film with one-dimensional lead characters. While the elements of drama aren’t specifically original, they do provide a strong foundation in which to examine the economy and subsequent housing market problems that have faced Hong Kong within the last two decades. While other films have explored this concept in the past, it’s refreshing to see it utilized to such a degree within a horror film such as Dream Home in that it broadens the scope of film’s narrative to be somewhat more poignant. In a way, this choice makes the homicidal actions within the film seemingly more plausible given the circumstances surrounding Cheng Lai-Sheung’s despairing economical situation. Pushing people to the edges of desperation, we slowly see the effects of how a perceived desire to want something of materialistic substance can essentially propel people to levels of absolute insanity.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o4dD1Fvw6XI

Inevitably, many will come to watch Dream Home in order to see it devastatingly brutal actions of murderous mayhem, but the film has much more going for it than initially meets the eye. There are underlying elements of satire that permeate throughout the film, expanding upon its basic premise of horror and looking beyond it to gloss over issues that are relevant in today’s current society. While these elements of satire may not be as strong as some would hope, they do offer the film the ability to stand alongside its strong usage of gore and give the viewer much more to think about. With a considerable performance by Josie Ho—a surprise given her rather subdued roles in the past—Dream Home is a surprisingly refreshing horror film that is as gruesome in the bodily mutilation it showcases as its widened—albeit superficial—examination of the current housing crisis within Hong Kong.