Reviews
‘Door’ (1988) Is the Greatest Home Invasion Thriller That You’ve Never Seen
An overworked and underappreciated housewife, Yasuko Honda spends most of her days in a cluttered apartment, tending to the needs of her rambunctious son and typical working husband. With both of them leaving her alone throughout the daytime, her hours are occupied by housework and small talk over the phone. But soon, phone calls from a pervert herald a much worse threat: a maddened door-to-door salesman turned stalker named Yamakawa, who threatens Yasuko’s life and her family’s safety. The only thing between her and him? A front door that grows weaker to hold him back every day.
Screambox for as long as I can remember, and I say this with love, the scrappy underdog in the streaming world. With many larger services taking up the mental real estate of horror fans everywhere, it begs the question, what’s their strongest selling point? The answer to that question came up recently with the streaming premiere of the 1988 Japanese psychological thriller film Door.
ONCE FORGOTTEN, NOW VOD (COURTESY OF SCREAMBOX)
An overworked and underappreciated housewife, Yasuko Honda spends most of her days in a cluttered apartment, tending to the needs of her rambunctious son and typical working husband. With both of them leaving her alone throughout the daytime, her hours are occupied by housework and small talk over the phone. But soon, phone calls from a pervert herald a much worse threat: a maddened door-to-door salesman turned stalker named Yamakawa, who threatens Yasuko’s life and her family’s safety. The only thing between her and him? A front door that grows weaker to hold him back every day.
Directed by Banmei Takahashi, Door had a repertory screening this year at Brooklyn Horror Film Festival, which our lovely editor, James-Michael was able to catch, but I missed. I was delighted to find out, however, that Screambox has made the film available for a home release. This answers the question: if Screambox keeps putting up quality obscure titles like this, it has serious potential to become a repository for tons of great lost media that are currently being restored.
THE LONG SLOW DEATH OF ISOLATION
Door is best compared to Michael Haneke’s Funny Games, in that it’s a psychological horror trying to say something about the cinematic culture around it; being a weird psycho-sexual nightmare is sort of just the byproduct. As Haneke’s work commented on the violence of American media and the arms race of captivating audiences with atrocities, Door is about an ever-increasing push towards individualism, and the fear of that isolation’s effects on future generations.
Yasuko lives in a densely packed building, and a lot of the horror that comes from Door’s premise is that despite Yamakawa’s very loud and very visible attacks, her neighbors are little help. The building is more preoccupied with garbage codes than it is protecting its residents, and the police of the city do little to help. Door verbalizes a longstanding urbanist anxiety of being so close to the people around you while having no sense of community and in turn, no sense of protection. Yasuko is forced to keep her head down and shrug off the worst of her assailant’s offenses, because who does she really have in the end?
Moreover, Takahashi’s work was also especially prescient for a Japanese audience: it’s a foretelling of the much more dire conditions that would strike Japan’s Lost Generation, and the subsequent loneliness epidemic that plagues the nation today. With that loneliness epidemic spreading abroad, it’s frightening to think of how more relatable the film might become for Western audiences.
CAT AND MOUSE WITH A PURPOSE
As I mentioned earlier, the film also has a very overtly psycho-sexual angle, especially in the way the film represents the relationship between Yasuko and Yamakawa with objects rather than outright nudity, i.e., there’s a lot of blatant, smack-you-over-the-head phallic symbolism. Knives are penises. Newspapers are penises. Hands are penises. Everything is a penis.
This undoubtedly has something to do with Banmei Takahashi’s origins in the “pink film” boom of 1970s Japan. That trend involved a lot of sleazier fare, erotic thrillers made for dirt cheap, and playing up the scandalous nature of the stories as something to gawk at rather than analyze. But Door feels like an attempt to finally explore many of those films’ more salacious and violent aspects as the byproducts of a broken society rather than a source of cheap thrills.
Takahashi zooms in on how violent men like Yamakawa try to take advantage by exerting violence on the isolated. Sexual symbols here are more symbols of sexual violence. They’re on the nose, yes, but unmistakable in their intent; they show how Yamakawa is looking for control rather than any sort of sexual and romantic connection, and doesn’t mince its message on that.
Door’s climax (which I won’t spoil too much but will say involves a tiny chainsaw) is the most destructive and blatant example of this, and it’s captivating in how bizarre and long it is. It’s uncomfortable, rife for dissection, and a fascinating choice for a director whose style evolved quite a bit from humble origins.
FRAMING THAT MAKES YOU FEEL TRAPPED
Speaking of Takahashi’s directing, his camerawork here is incredibly efficient at backing up the thematic fears of the story. There’s a really effective contrast made between how Takahashi shoots Door’s interior and exterior shots. The exteriors emphasize openness with some expertly composed wides; outside, the camera often looks down from high up at Yasuko and her son Takuto, sometimes feeling like a voyeur viewing from a rooftop above and framing them perfectly. But inside the apartment, all that visual freedom is taken away to crank up the tension.
There is an unease in the Honda family’s home; it is cluttered, oddly shaped with a hard-to-pin-down layout, and cramped; those details add to the anxiety of it all. Door is, in many ways, a great crash course for anyone looking to see how influential shot composition can be, even when it’s something as simple as the furniture arrangement in a corridor.
Takahashi is able to build the maximum amount of fear with simple shots of unlocked doors and narrow hallways because everything feels claustrophobic without being outright close-ups. This factors most importantly into the aforementioned climax, where that tension pays off, and all hell breaks loose.
A SOUNDTRACK THAT DENIES YOU COMFORT
And what may be my favorite part of Door is its soundtrack. The music here can best be described as comforting and dulcet. It’s a byproduct of the booming music scene of late-1980s Japan and its focus on smooth jazz. It’s a gorgeous soundtrack composed by Gôji Tsuno, that has a sort of romantic lilt to it…
Until it simply isn’t.
Until it’s abruptly torn away, and a switch flips in your brain telling you something is wrong. The music cuts out at seemingly random intervals but is timed to disorient you. It leaves the viewer to listen to the sounds of struggle, the sounds of breathing, the aftermath of an attack, only to return and start the cycle over again. It’s a genius choice, and a highly underutilized one. It’s the first time in a while that a soundtrack wasn’t telling me how I should feel, but how I felt outright.
Door earned my fondness because Banmei Takahashi took a very common premise for a psychological thriller and imprinted his one-of-a-kind vision on it. To my knowledge, he was a bit of a hired gun in the pink film era who almost quit due to disagreements with producers, but persevered and went on to make a variety of films in many different genres.
Door marks one of those beautiful moments where a director reflects on their past works, and creates something wholly unique in the process. It’s a diamond in the rough (one that will likely land on my Hidden Gems of 2023 list early next year), so I hope you seek it out and enjoy it as much as I did.
You can stream Door (1988) on Screambox.
Reviews
‘Iron Lung’ Review: Exceptionally Atmospheric Cosmic Horror
As Iron Lung begins, the film places you in an overhead shot looking down at a submarine that’s seen better days. Jagged metal teeth of a broken cage sit at its head, illuminated by a light from the ship above that’s about to cut it loose. As you’re about to be dropped into a roiling ocean of blood, you become quickly invested in its story.
A dire paternal voiceover runs you through your place in the world as an observer: someone is being sent into the “waters” of a far-off moon in a dead, dark galaxy. They’re in search of an answer you’re automatically aware will never be enough and a penance they will never attain. It prompts an obvious, cutting question: if Hell is where we’re looking for an answer, how bad must things be among the stars to go searching there for hope?
A Surprising Outing for Writer and Director Mark Fischbach
The debut feature film of writer and director Mark Fischbach, better known to the internet at large as Markiplier, is as surprising as it is atmospheric. And no, not surprising because Fischbach is an internet personality crossing over into film. And no, not surprising because this is a video game adaptation that is actually quite good.
The surprise here is mainly from the way Fischbach dodges a number of first-time filmmaker torpedoes that would otherwise sink the film straight to the sea floor. It’s in the very clear coordination and trust he has with his cast and crew. In a way, the film itself is a mirror of the submersible his character is forced to pilot: flawed, surely, but strong enough to complete its mission and deliver an exceptional experience.
What Is Iron Lung About Exactly?
The story goes as follows: in the wake of an event called the Quiet Rapture, the stars themselves have been snuffed out. Most of the galaxy has been plunged into sudden darkness, and a mass dying off has consumed countless worlds (think the worst possible aftermath to The Nine Billion Names of God).
Convicted for a reprehensible crime, the convict Simon (played by Markiplier himself) has been given a rare opportunity to return to life among the survivors. The mission is to pilot a death trap of a one-man submarine into the blood oceans of an alien moon, looking for a scientific sample useful enough to earn his freedom. That is, assuming he doesn’t lose his mind or his life in the process.
Bespoke Set Design That Matches the Premise Perfectly
Iron Lung should be commended first and foremost for being a bottle film with the perfect set design to match. Not overly ambitious, but not too simplistic either. Contained in a marvel of a small space, the submarine here is a tactile nightmare of rusty metal and antiquated technology you never get sick of seeing more of.
While Fischbach and director of photography Philip Roy have the camera linger in close ups almost too often, I don’t blame them for wanting to capture the finer details and leer at them. It’s clear every inch of this condensation covered machine was engineered by the art team and production design to emphasize its prison cell qualities as a barely functional vessel.
The ship’s external camera fires off like a flash bulb on its interior, barely illuminating the cabin with its next horrific image of the sea floor before plunging us back into darkness. The oxygen gauge and its cold robotic voice are a countdown to the painful annihilation that awaits its pilot. Its proximity sensors give only the barest indications of what’s going on outside, ticking a dull noise warning us: you are not alone. It’s a punishment to operate, and the set design as well as the very solid sound design that accompany it make that violently clear and effectively spinetingling.
Translation From Game to Film Isn’t So Perfect Though
This perfect setting isn’t always used perfectly though. The translation of the game’s mechanics and gameplay to the screen are both a weakness and a strength. They make the pacing of the first third run to a slow start, especially when Fischbach’s screenplay grinds against the strong suit of the film’s cinematography: the panic of it all.
Like its video game source material, David Szymanski’s Iron Lung, the film is really at its best when it’s instilling a sense of active and imminent panic. A tone that matches the borrowed time the submarine is glued together with. Putting out fires, both literal and metaphorical, ratcheting up its claustrophobia as you’re placed cheek to cheek with Simon in steamy, metallic darkness. This is where Iron Lung shines.
Markiplier’s Performance in Iron Lung is Hit or Miss, But Mostly Hits
It’s outside of these moments of panic where the weakest parts of the script and Fischbach’s performance are highlighted. Some weak line deliveries and beats of dead air kill the real tight headlock the film could have you gripped in from start to finish. And while Fischbach is phenomenal at playing terrified or pleading or even simple exhaustion in the face of the impossible, he really requires someone to bounce off of as his solo work just isn’t as compelling. Even the clunkiest bits of dialogue between him and his jailer (Caroline Kaplan) are better than the best of his moments where he talks to himself or tries to inject some humor into the bleak story.
This is a shame too, because the minimalist storytelling and background we get for his character is genuinely very intriguing. It’s thematically rich for what the film is trying to say about the power and terror of belief, and it’s doubly satisfying that the film has enough confidence to not lay everything out in a longwinded speech explaining the motives and lore that landed him here.
All that being said, his performance is hit or miss, but he mostly hits. The dialogue becomes more urgent as we approach the climax, and all of the cast delivers on that impending doom nicely. It reaches its peak in the final act, and Fischbach is on fire as he struggles to hold himself together in the face of absolute madness leaching its way into the pressurized cabin.
Iron Lung: A Redemptive Finale With Pure Liquid Body Horror
What a fantastic final act it is, one that makes up for its imperfection in the first two parts with a homerun of pure liquid body horror. It’s just phenomenal how the film’s digital and practical effects present the true horrors of Iron Lung. There’s a near perfect mesh between the two, and they highlight the best influences of similar genre films that came before.
Soaked with all the gore, madness, and mystery of the likes of Event Horizon and Pandorum, Iron Lung is a worthy successor in the cosmic horror genre as it rises above its own problems. It’s a moody, environmentally precise stunner of a horror film that sets a benchmark as the movie to beat for forthcoming releases this year.
Reviews
‘The Ritual (2017)’ Review: When Grief Gets Gruesome
The Ritual is, without a doubt, one of the most completely enthralling horror films of the past decade. Usually, I wouldn’t open with such a strong reaction for a movie that isn’t a technical and narrative masterpiece, but this is close enough to call that in. It’s at the very least masterful work that deserves more love, and that’s even with it having a permanent home and high placement on the world’s biggest streaming platform. It’s no longer the obscure hidden gem it was at the time of release, if it ever was that, but I refuse to stop talking about it.
The sheer catharsis this film grants through its cast, and the way its environment really pushes that cast of characters, is what I could only describe as “surgical.” It cuts to the bone. It’s a movie about the strangling nature of grief, and it gives us a great time showing its characters fighting against that choking feeling.
What is The Ritual (2017) About?
After the death of Rob, things haven’t been the same for Luke. The memories of the robbery that took his life, a robbery he had to witness hiding behind a liquor shelf, still haunt him. But there’s a chance for closure as he and his friends go on the trip that Luke had helped plan the night he died.
Their quest to honor his memory sends them through the beautiful locales of Northern Sweden, along a hiking trail in the mountains. But after an attempt at a shortcut sends the group deep into the woods and they struggle to get back on course, it becomes violently clear they aren’t the only ones in the wilderness. Ritualistic markings, involving dead animals and dire effigies, warn of a much greater power lurking in the forest. Whether they can escape it depends on whether they can keep each other safe long enough to get out.
Netflix Could You Lock In And Do A Physical Release For Once
This is a phenomenal film, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t get up on my soapbox about its format for just one moment. Regrettably, this is a streaming-only film that has been shackled by Netflix to its platform. It has an excessively rare DVD release floating around, but that is also unfortunately, region locked, and likely more low fidelity than most physical collectors would like. Especially when so much of this movie relies on shadow and darkness, a Blu-Ray release is kind of obligatory for high quality preservation of the director’s vision.
Not sure what I expected from the media conglomerate that it is. Netflix is already notorious for refusing to release physical media and then cancelling and erasing shows from the platform. What are we going to do with you Netflix? You only ever seem to cause me problems. Just make the physical release for this already.
Gorgeous, Grotesque, And Gut-wrenching All At The Same Time
Setting that thought aside, this film was bound to be fantastic given the horror pedigree behind it. Cutting loose anthology director David Bruckner, the MVP of the V/H/S franchise, then giving him a budget and legendary location scouting is about as great as you’d expect. It’s like saying that sugar and butter make things taste better; should you really be shocked?
When you have this many lighting and environmental factors to juggle, expectations are understandably high. The film on paper should look at least a little choppy, but Bruckner and cinematographer Andrew Shulkind really are in their element here. This is only exemplified even further by the film’s most memorable space-bending set piece at its climax. I won’t even risk spoiling it for lack of a better description, but I will say the stark contrast they play with light and shadow here makes for some really captivating visuals and frightening moments.
The naturalistic environment this folk horror takes place in really has a knack for showing the contrasting beauty and grotesqueness of the things hiding in the woods. And its director really has a knack for using that environment to squeeze the actors for all they’ve got.
A Phenomenal Cast Led By Rafe Spall
Make no mistake: The Ritual is not just a pretty face. This is at its core a story about a group of men facing their strained relationships in the wake of a brutal death, and all the ugliness that entails. They’re foolish, angry, bitter, and sad people struggling each in their own way to accept a loss. What it leads you with is what you’d expect to be one-note characters being slotted into archetypal roles, but what they end up as feels surprisingly real.
The obvious star here is our lead Rafe Spall, whose turn as main character Luke ranges from downright depressing to shockingly soul lifting. You can see Spall plays him as a man slowly trying to piece himself back together, fumbling as he’s soaked in alcohol and self-pity. His changing demeanor throughout the film really reflects the truth of his character: he was only ever going to change and confront his past when he was forced to. And him being forced to go through supernatural circumstances really does make for one of the most satisfying character arcs in a horror film I’ve ever seen.
Is This The Best Creature Design Of The Past 20 Years?
Again, it’s difficult to talk about this film without spoiling its most fun moments, so I will just say that you only stand to gain something by watching it. If its emotional aspects don’t grab you, its aesthetic qualities will. And if all that fails to grab you, maybe this will: The Ritual boasts what is the definitively best monster design of the 2010s, if not the past 20 years. Nothing, and I mean nothing, can top the visual concept this film delivers on with that design. Need I say more?


