Pulse

I can't genuinely remember the last time a movie made me afraid to go to the bathroom to take a shit. I think it was The Others and I was nine or ten years old. Now I'm thirty three and I'm not supposed to be this scared like this while watching a movie. Was watching it while on bed and I had to ask @tuttifunghi to make contact with me (we were so tense that at some moment I farted loudly and she almost had an heart attack). The first half or so of the film is one of constant tension and horror. Even when the plot isn't advancing and we're witnessing moments of "lightness," Kurosawa's direction is spectral and fuels our anxiety. Surely for the use of sound and music, but above all for the liminal spaces and the only perspective's escape routes which are always hindered by something dark, be it darkness, a door, strange shapes, figures. There isn't a moment of relief, even after receiving a hit (there isn't a single technical jumpscare in this production, but there are... sudden changes indeed), and scene after scene we are led to fear the worst around every corner, behind every door, until THAT scene comes and damn all the gods of every culture, religion and cults in history I'm still watching my back even here Katalog with this dark background almost shat myself looking at my reflection jesus mamma mia I'm too old for this shAnyway, as I was saying, the first half or so, then it changes, somehow, ok. I read somewhere that this movie feels like halfway there the director died and someone else took over to finish the film and, yes, it sounds accurate. I wouldn't say it becomes bad, but it loses its terror and start focusing more on depression, loneliness and isolation, all (of which are american dreams! all of which are american dreams! all of which are american dreams! @dominic I sense you will particularly appreciate this reference), all things that, let's remember, this film talks about. A guy, commenting on Paprika, the 2006 animated film by Satoshi Kon, a few weeks ago, told us that in his opinion, in Paprika there is a strong influence of the first years of fear for the coming of the internet in Japan. It wasn't fully understood, it was very fast, things changed suddenly, and I saw all this in Pulse, which now, when I think about it, it seems like it was a film ahead of its times. What we see in Pulse is what started to happen (in a much more accelerated way, not that it was new) about fifteen years later, online isolation and consequent isolation in real life. An ouroboros, a continuous cycle. Things, on this side, are not going so well, and on the internet there are places-of-promised-lands, apparently non-judgmental, where we can behave more freely, and so we learn to rely on them, to spend more time there, and not to worry about what, instead, is on this side of reality. In Japan this is even more marked, and I think that this film, from beginning to end, represents it well, while still leaving room for interpretation. It doesn't force itself into long explanations as often happens in asian cinema, nor does it leave everything to the imagination. Pulse has a clear idea of ​​what it wants to say, but leaves it up to us, the audience, to finish the picture. There are some production and writing problems, but who cares, yes? Koji Yakusho, you are wonderful, I would have liked to see more of you. I love you Uncle Hirayama, notice me, I beg you.

Hadn't seen a Japanese horror in years. Terrifying first half, then it loses its scariness but the sadness and melancholy takes its place quite beautifully. The struggle of trying to take care of each other in a society that wants to keep us apart. That fucking scene should be studied (it was already) - a masterpiece of horror.