IS IT STILL RELEVANT: PULSE

Jason digs up a classic of J-Horror, PULSE, but in a digital era, is a movie with antiquated tech still relevant or does it lend to the rising lo-fi horror sub-genre?

Japanese horror has a way of standing out from every other genre of horror. It has its own cadence, a slower rhythm whose quiet moments allow for the full creepiness of the moment to settle in. It’s dialogue hints at poetry, a painting of an image using words that define feelings far more than situations, monologues given that you would never find in an Americanized script. Gone are the gallons of blood and jump scares that we find in films produced in this country, it relies far more on unsettling moments of genuine dread, allowing the true fear to emerge at minute glimpses, terror far more entrenched in what isn’t seen than what is, until finally unleashing the full brilliance of its terror during a breath catching climax.

The J-Horror Explosion was a magical time to be a horror fan. Long before Hollywood studios started recreating these franchises with vastly diminishing results, films such as Ringu, Ju-On, Audition and Kairo scared the absolute shit out of even the most experienced horror fans. I remember the first time I watched Ringu, surrounded by friends via an expensive bootleg, and the genuine excitement that maintained as this film unfolded, each of us aware that nothing that we had seen previously could even hope to prepare us for this new type of scary movie. While I could sit and talk about Ringu all night, and I will before it’s over, today I wish to talk about a different, often overlooked entry into this brilliant subgenre of spooky.

Kairo, or Pulse as it’s known in the states, is one of the more subtle titles that you’ll find in a horror section, a melancholy reflection on loneliness and depression dressed up as a ghost story. Each encounter from beyond the grave is as harrowing as it as horrifying, with the spirits begging for help, and release from the loneliness that comes with being dead. This film is as bleak as a graveyard at night, and as terrifying as the sudden realization that you’re not alone in that graveyard.

What truly separates this from most other ghost stories is the details in how the ghosts make contact, which is through dial up internet (look it up, kids). This gives the film the ability to ground this film in reality via a new at the time technology, while still providing ghastly images and scenes through said technology. This film is ripe with computer screens not quite focusing in on haunted visages staring back in despair, clips of lost souls stuck in loops replaying for an eternity, and their cries, begging to be helped, broken by the isolation.

The truly brilliant part of this is the prediction of where we would be as a society today, years before social media claimed the majority of our waking hours and attention spans. These ghosts are a reflection of us, blankly staring at screens, craving contact and interaction that will never come to us via a modem. We see the faces and hear the voices, but the ability to truly and completely connect with one another, to lay a hand on theirs and give them your full attention is something that just isn’t now and will never be possible through a screen. These ghosts in this film are us, crying out for an affection that we constantly choose to starve ourselves of, which in turn usually doubles our efforts in seeking the companionship that we need in all of the wrong places.

Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying that online friends don’t mean as much as real life friends. I’ve met some of my favorite people via the internet and social media. I love our conversations and appreciate being able to look in on their lives to know that they’re all doing okay. I’m just saying that maybe this shouldn’t be our only form of communication. In my personal life, I run a bar, which one would think would be a mecca of interesting conversation, but I watch, night after night, as couples, families and friends come in, and sit in silence, far too entrenched in their screens to notice the people sitting across from them. Lives and possibilities passing by their glazed over eyes from endless scrolling.  We truly have become a society of ghosts trapped in our own skins, desperate to feel something genuine, but without the knowledge of where to start.

In that way, this film is a prophecy, and that makes it all the more terrifying, but the warning it gives is clear, and it’s never too late to start. Put the phone down and turn the television off. Go do something that you have always wanted to do but have always had an excuse not to. Be honest about something that you’re terrified of and go face it head-on. Accomplish a dream that you’ve stored in your heart and allowed to collect dust for too many years. Live your life. We only get one, and it passes before we realize it’s slipping away, leaving us desperate for the moments that we didn’t claim.

If one of those bucket list items is to become proficient in the world of Japanese horror, this is an amazing place to start, and is generally safe for everyone, despite some truly frightening moments and a few scenes of self-harm. The soundtrack is subtle, but hits all of the right notes to really amplify the creepiness of what’s unfolding, and despite being a bit complicated in parts to follow, it all comes together at the end for anyone with the patience to take this full trip.

Just be warned, you might never look at a computer screen the same way again.

Until next time, Boils and Ghouls, I remain your humble servant in horror…

Jason Kuykendall has been a horror fan since the age of two, when his mother sat him down in front of When a Stranger Calls, so she began using horror movies as a babysitter. His favorite job was a mom and pop video store that he worked at when he was sixteen. He runs Creepy Bat Book Review but is thinking about firing and replacing himself due to how slack he’s become in his work. He’s made of 85% tattoos, 35% compassion, and 69% spite, and he also doesn’t understand math. He won’t pet your service dog, but he really, really wants to.

PLEASE NOTE: The views and opinions of the staff of Memento Mori Ink do not necessarily represent those of Memento Mori Ink or Crystal Lake Publishing. Thank you for understanding.