Juon: The Grudge (2002)
Directed by Takashi Shimizu
Starring: Megumi Okina, Misaki Ito
Genre: Horror
Running Time: 92mins

Rating:

The spirits of those wronged can seek revenge in the after life, can manifest themselves as a curse for all who come into contact with them. A murder has taken place within a house situated in a Tokyo suburb. Five years later and the occupants have changed, the visitors have changed, but the spirits remain. In a series of short horror vignettes a chain is created through which the curse spreads, through which the grudge will continue to grow.

After months without a scare it took a film like JUON to breathe a much needed breath of fresh air into the Japanese horror film industry. Taking its premise from its director's (Takashi Shimizu) trial TV movie efforts Juon 1 & 2, this theatrical outing showcases the difference a budget can make.

Gone (for the most part) are the clunky, over-ambitious elements of the V-Cinema release and in their place is expert cinematography and a fear invoking sound design, both working hand in hand to fill viewers with an inescapable sense of dread. Applying subtle blocking techniques to the perfectly designed house (in which the film is set) we are treated to some deliciously frightening sequences as fear of the unknown, behind closed doors, around corners, above and below are all brought to the screen with impressive effect due mostly to the fluidity of the cinematography and the split-second editing.

Juon, much like Kairo and Ring before it (comparisons must be made), is a film that successfully crawls under your skin leaving horriffic images and sensations rooted deep within your sub-conscious that will haunt you just as you feel safe to go to sleep.

The reason why JUON is so effective, is that it continues to tread the tried and tested path of its predecessors. Whereas in many Western horror films, fear can be a location far away from home, in JUON that fear is brought to the home. The one place we all feel safe becomes the most dangerous place to be. Home is where the horror is. It infests, invades, it spreads, even when we cower under the sheets, it's right there with us waiting to drag us under. Determined, relentless, Juon is damned terrifying.

A lot has been said regarding JUON's structure, or lack of in some reviews. The episodic nature of each victim being granted his/her own documented demise however, is far from repetitive. Playing with chronology Shimizu weaves a tapestry of horror wherein each vignette becomes another piece of the jigsaw forcing the audience to think, to work it all out, while also keeping the scares coming thick and fast. It's a brave piece of filmmaking that could so easily fail and descend into the realms of repetitious boredom. All the more credit to Shimizu then for his expert handling for as JUON progresses and nears its conclusion, you find yourself wanting more and more.

That is not to say, however, that the film is perfect. Far from it. Kayako will never be a match for Sadako. While Kayako and the truly terrifying Toshio are effective tools of the horror genre, the undoubted influence of Nakata's Ring is written all over Kayako who not only resembles the iconic imagery of "the woman in white" but also has the long black hair and twisted body movements to match. In addition to this there are moments in the narrative that lack clarity that force the audience to step outside the film in order to gain an understanding. It's a shame considering the total immersion in terror that Shimizu is clearly striving to achieve.

A refreshing change to the horror genre, JUON is a roller-coaster of a film. Less concerned with a conventional structure it rages onward satisfying its audience with its tantalising premise and fascinating denouement, whilst being totally committed to scaring you witless. Not as complex, nor as involving as Ring or the aforementioned Kairo (the episodic nature fails to make you root for anyone in particular) JUON is, nevertheless, a fantastically entertaining and often heart stopping exercise in cinematic terror.