Page 174 - Nightmare Japan Contemporary Japanese Horror Cinema
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Spiraling into Apocalypse                               161

                              of  his  medium.  During  this  exquisitely  crafted  narrative  of  ghosts,
                              alienation,  and  the  gradual  eradication  of  human  life  as  we  know  it,
                              Kurosawa’s  mise-en-scène,  with  its  application  of  chiaroscuro  lighting
                              and muted colours, lures the viewer into an apocalyptic scenario as sad as
                              it  is  frightening.  In  the  process,  he  presents  a  critical  dissection  of  a
                              postmodern  Japan  that,  like  the  films  discussed  above,  explores  the
                              impact  of technology  upon  our lives  and the  profound  alienation  that all
                              too  frequently  (and  ironically)  accompanies  post-industrial  capitalist
                              culture.
                                     Summarising Pulse’s plot for the purpose of the ensuing analysis
                              presents  numerous  challenges,  not  the  least  of  which  stems  from  the
                              density  of  the  film’s  visuals,  as  well  as  its  complex  individual,  yet
                              ultimately intersecting, storylines. From its disquieting opening moments,
                              in  which  a  black  screen  and  the  electronic  screech  of  a  computer’s
                              modem gives  way to  a  brief sequence  aboard a lone,  largely  empty  ship
                              motoring  steadily  through  an  expanse  of  ocean  darkened  by  low  grey
                              clouds, Kurosawa Kiyoshi conveys a palpable tone of menace and dread
                              that intensifies as the film’s plot unfolds. One of the bleakest apocalyptic
                              visions in contemporary Japanese horror cinema, Pulse conveys the story
                              of  two  lonely  young  adults  living  in an  alienating  late-industrial  Tokyo,
                              an urban realm where, in a scenario that anticipates Sono Shion’s Suicide
                              Circle,  pervasive  communication  technologies  (from  cell  phones  to  the
                              internet) paradoxically enhance the disconnection and isolation the film’s
                              protagonists  feel.  One  of  the  two  major  characters  is  a  woman  named
                              Michi,  whose  voice-over  frames  the  film’s  events.  Employed  by  a
                              botanical nursery, Michi volunteers to visit an absent co-worker, Taguchi,
                              to  retrieve  a  disk  containing  important  information  for  an  on-going
                              project. When she arrives at Taguchi’s apartment, she speaks briefly with
                              her colleague, who, in the few minutes it takes Michi to locate the crucial
                              disk, commits suicide by hanging himself in an adjacent room. This death
                              variably disturbs the nursery’s employees, as does a strange and haunting
                              image they find embedded within the project file: a still photo of Taguchi
                              standing  in  front  of  a  desk  with  two  computer  monitors,  one  of  which
                              reveals a strangely  contorted face, while the other displays  what appears
                              to  be  a  webpage  consisting  of  an  exact  reproduction  of  the  very  image
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