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The Chilling, Captivating Purgatory of Exit 8

Now that is how you make a good video game movie!
With a bad Mario film in theatres yet again, exemplifying loyalty to aesthetics of the video game medium without its actual effects, the question is once more raised of how one makes a ‘good’ video game movie that captures a semblance of the gaming experience. That interactivity, that tension of investment, solving problems and puzzles -how do you relate that to a cinematic medium? Well, even if Nintendo does not appear to be interested in that question, it is still from Japan that such innovation comes.
Exit 8, directed by Genki Kawamura, is based on the indie game of the same name -something that is not entirely apparent at first for those unaware. The game is fairly un-cinematic in design -it is more about puzzles and pattern recognition; but Kawamura finds an interesting way to translate it in a manner that is engaging, that develops a curious story for its ‘player’ character with resonating themes and ideas; and that is above all artistically compelling -using some of the tendencies of the video game medium to the advantage of its visual language and suspense. I was surprised how many times I reacted to what was on screen the way a gamer might, endeavouring to drive the action forward and considering the choices in tandem with the main character. That is a very good sign for the legitimacy of this kind of adaptation.
The film is set entirely in the Tokyo Underground and primarily follows the Lost Man (Kazunari Ninomiya) on his morning commute who, minutes after feeling guilty for ignoring a woman with a crying baby getting yelled at on the train, is informed by his recent ex that she is pregnant with his child and doesn’t know what to do. As he ponders this while making his way through the underground he finds himself suddenly alone and trapped in an endlessly looping corridor trying to make his way to ‘Exit 8’. Sometimes the loop is very mundane, characterized by several posters on the left wall, a few doors and vents on the right, a direction sign for the exit hanging above, an unresponsive stranger (Yamato Kochi) with a cellphone walking around the corner, and some lockers and a photo booth around the bend. At the start of each cycle there is a number on the wall indicating his progress towards Exit 8, and the Lost Man has to train himself to look for anomalies -which can range from something being slightly out of place to a disturbing or outright horror scene taking shape. If there are no anomalies, he can progress forward; if there are some though he must go back. Either gets him to the next level but any mistake forces him to start the labyrinth over again.
Even accounting for anomalies, there is a lot of repetition built into the story structure and how it progresses -which might make for some pretty monotonous filmmaking. Kawamura shoots from a first-person perspective until the Lost Man winds up in the maze, then switching to a vantage point predominantly behind him -as in a video game- though occasionally cutting to a new angle or closer shot. For each of these, the takes are very long and consistent with no apparent cuts separating several rounds of the circuit. As such the pacing is really sharp and disciplined, and the whole effect is rather hypnotizing. Like the Lost Man, the audience is soon trained to look out for inconsistencies, and be on their toes over what form they might take. In one, the Walking Man might stop walking and appear directly behind the protagonist, a wide onibaba-like smile on his face. In another there might be some subtle creepy detail to the posters you don't catch at first. Kawamura allows space for the audience to pick up on these, while Ninomiya matches our anticipation and anxiety. Through it all the technical feat keeps us puzzled and astounded.
And yet if the film were just concerned with this stylistic replication of gameplay, it would be a curious experiment and not necessarily a good movie. But there is a real story at play against the horror and tension. Primarily it follows the Lost Man, but there is also an important storyline explored for the Walking Man -himself having been another poor soul now seemingly trapped in the maze forever for a critical mistake. For the Lost Man, his real-world moral dilemma goes hand-in-hand with his progression. His guilt and doubts over potential fatherhood only add to his anxiety, his response to a call from his ex marking a major setback along his journey. And eventually he is confronted with a very vivid test in the form of a young Boy (Naru Asanuma), also wandering this loop -and far more perceptive than anyone else- to whom he is obliged to take on accountability. Ninomiya gives a good performance all through the movie, as his nonchalance and confusion turn to dreadful fear and frustration, and eventually a kind of cold perseverance underlined by the growth and clarity of both the experience and his relationship to the Boy. It is legitimately compelling.
So too is the chilling effect and the ways in which Kawamura involves the audience in both the game of the film and its tension. His perspective on the action gravitates between the intimacy of the Lost Man's viewpoint and a more objective observer removed from the character's psyche. This is true for the other characters whose outlooks the film occupies as well. The framing always emphasizes the clarity of the environment, which in its endless clinical minimalism is quite claustrophobic. Along with the score and sound design the grim atmosphere is well communicated by this, as the pattern of progression trains the audience in tandem with the Lost Man. The symbolism through the test in its lightly creeping to outright forms is easily tangible without feeling overtly direct -the reality of the whole situation its own engaging mystery up to its close.
In a way it almost comes off as an adaptation of a folk morality tale or parable by the end more than a translation of a video game. I wasn't even aware of its source until the credits. This is to its advantage -Exit 8 functions as a movie irrespective of its source while simultaneously translating its appeal in a fresh, stylistically experimental way that doesn't detract from its cinematic precepts. The marriage of forms isn't perfect of course -but it comes closer than any other video game adaptation I’ve seen while transcending that label with distinction. Fun and tense and creepy and eclectic, it is worth a hundred-fold the time and attention its brash, bloated American cousin has received.

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