Page 176 - Nightmare Japan Contemporary Japanese Horror Cinema

Spiraling into Apocalypse 163

abandons Kawashima, and as he wanders through a near empty Tokyo,
the film’s two narrative lines intersect when he encounters Michi sitting
in a broken down car. Kawashima helps get Michi’s car restarted, and
they, too, begin an awkward friendship as they search for Harue and,
later, for anyone who may still be alive. As the film comes to a close,
Michi and Kawashima board a ship headed for Latin America, where
radio signals supposedly indicate that some human life may still exist. In
a poignant scene, Michi watches as Kawashima transforms into a dark
stain on the wall and then disintegrates. Unsure of whether she has made
the right decision in her choice to continue living, Michi wanders the ship
until she encounters the craft’s pilot, who reassures her that she has
indeed made the correct choice. The film ends with a bird’s-eye view of
the lone vessel and Michi’s final, if cryptic, affirmation that: ‘Now, alone
with my last friend in the world, I have found happiness.’
Pulse confronts audiences with an ominous vision of an
apocalyptic present. Much of the film’s emotional impact results from
Kurosawa Kiyoshi’s direction, especially his construction of the film’s
consistently evocative if unsettling mise-en-scène. Contributing to the
gloomy atmosphere that hovers like a pall over virtually every scene is
Kurosawa’s manipulation of lighting and lighting effects. Chiaroscuro
lighting, with its attendant contrast of light and dark, brightness and
shadow, dominates the film’s compositions; consequently, viewers soon
find themselves studying each image, visually probing the darkest regions
of the frame with an intensity that only further compliments the impact of
those images the director illuminates. As such, audiences soon become
aware of their roles as active producers of meaning, scanning each shot in
the anticipation of glimpsing the faintest impression of an emerging
apparition. Kurosawa’s predilection for silhouettes, in both his
representation of the spectral entities invading the realm of the living and
of human beings reduced to inky shadows on dimly lit walls, illustrates
his control over a broad range of darkness and light. In even the lengthiest
daytime exterior shots, such as those scenes that take place in the rooftop
nursery or, later in the film, on the streets of a desolate Tokyo, the sun is
never shown, nor is the sky ever blue. Rather, such scenes further the
film’s menacing tone through a strategic diffusion of light that creates the