Koji Shiraishi’s subversive scare-fest is spooky, silly, and such a good time
While filmmakers like Takashi Shimizu (Ju-on: the Grudge) and Hideo Nakata (Ring) may be more well-known stateside through their Japanese folktale-inspired translations into dread-filled modern J-Horror, Koji Shiraishi separates himself from his counterparts by drawing inspiration from ‘80s and ‘90s classics from the West. From his found footage epics of Noroi: the Curse, Occult, and the Senritsu Kaiki File Kowasugi! series to his tongue-in-cheek riffs on his counterparts with Sadako vs. Kayako, Shiraishi balances slow-burn creepiness with the go-for-broke Western zaniness of John Carpenter and Sam Raimi, as well as the more cosmic horror of H.P. Lovecraft. He’s quick to separate himself from the J-Horror label that found fellow directors their lucrative fame–instead, Shiraishi’s aspirational horror finds his characters more than ready to confront their demons rather than be perpetually terrorized by them. This unstoppable drive to face one’s fears makes Koji Shiraishi such an exciting voice in modern Japanese horror–and what made him the perfect choice to adapt Rensuke Oshikiri’s 2010 manga Sayuri.
Beginning as a slice-of-life story about the huge Kamiki family’s arrival at their new home in the countryside, Oshikiri’s genre-defying horror serial quickly pivots into gut-churning terror as the Kamikis are picked off one by one by the vengeful spirit of a murdered little girl. However, much like Shiraishi’s new adaptation, Oshikiri’s story rides familiar J-Horror rails before careening off of them entirely.
The grand culmination of Koji Shiraishi’s wild defiance of Japanese horror expectations, House of Sayuri is a haunted house fright fest that cleverly balances the fine line between horrifying and hilarious.
Shiraishi’s film, with a screenplay co-written by fellow J-Horror subverter Mari Asato (Bilocation, Ju-on: Black Ghost), remains truly faithful to the spirit of Oshikiri’s manga while giving its director the freedom to drive the material into unpredictable new territory. In a first act rich with spooky bumps in the night and blink-and-you’ll-miss-them ghosts, House of Sayuri sinisterly satisfies expectations right off the bat as the Kamiki family is slowly driven mad by supernatural terror. Keeping true to the slice-of-life foundation, we get to spend quite a bit of time with the Kamikis–notably eldest brother Norio (Ryoka Minamide) and his dementia-addled grandmother (Toshie Negishi)–and learn just how they live life independent of being victimized by ghosts. As a result, their loss (captured in gruesome detail by Shiraishi) feels all the more traumatic as the titular poltergeist systematically dispatches them. It’s a first half rich with homages to now classic J-Horror films like Ring, Ju-on, and Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Pulse, here given a breakneck, brutal pace by Shiraishi without sacrificing their painstaking buildup. There’s even an amazing reinvention of a scare from one of Shiraishi’s first films that made this viewer punch the air–showcasing how Shiraishi doesn’t shy away from including his work in reimagining J-Horror with a much-needed fresh and critical perspective.
But just as Shiraishi, Asato, and Oshikiri settle us into an effective familiarity, they just as manically subvert our expectations by pivoting into Shiraishi’s grandest ethos: the Kamikis’ life-affirming stand against the demons persecuting them. While the dread of the first half remains a constant, fans of Shiraishi’s work may be more than prepared for how the writer-director will throw curveballs of levity into any moment–often to the point of punk rock absurdity. Along the way, House of Sayuri deviates into other modes of tragedy, comedy, and bloody revenge that rivals only Takashi Miike in terms of sly wit and brazen execution. The result of these genre high-wire acts reveals a critical eye towards not just the usual J-Horror origin story, but also a tragic indictment of unexpected characters along the way–making for a film that adds a surprising amount of pathos to its wide emotional spectrum.
The true marvel here is just how Koji Shiraishi’s craft has evolved to make all of House of Sayuri‘s disparate genres feel cut from the same cloth. There are moments in House of Sayuri that, if viewed independently of one another, would feel like they couldn’t be from the same film. However, that’s precisely the appeal of Shiraishi in the wake of J-Horror’s groundbreaking yet suffocating dread. to paraphrase a Sayuri character’s reverence of tai chi, Shiraishi’s embrace of the fun side of fear equally embraces “the dynamism of life itself.” Much like Oshikiri’s original manga, Shiraishi is a director who celebrates the victories of life as much as the horrors of death. That evenhanded approach, augmented by the individual strengths of his co-creatives, allows the tonal shifts of House of Sayuri to succeed in a way that bests most of his previous work.
Shiraishi and Oshikiri’s joint statements on House of Sayuri point to a shared dissatisfaction with the legacy of J-Horror, remarking on the genre’s “stagnation” and how tired both creatives are with the nihilistic pain the characters find themselves trapped in. In that sense, House of Sayuri feels like a grand, rebellious new statement on Japanese horror–playing into beloved tropes established by classics before defiantly fighting back to “create a new era,” as Shiraishi claims; as Oshikiri accordingly intones, “stand up to the spirits! Be angry! Be stupid!!”
House of Sayuri is scary, silly, and fun as hell–and its life-affirming chaos continues to affirm Shiraishi’s place among modern Japanese horror greats.
House of Sayuri had its North American premiere at Fantasia Fest 2024. It is currently seeking distribution.
