Marcus: Shutter (2004)

         I’ll start by asking a question that, despite how common it seems to be brought up, is never given a satisfying enough answer for me to leave it alone. What the hell is it exactly that makes Asian horror movie ghosts so terrifying? In the past decade, we’ve been treated to a plethora of frightful ghosts and ghouls from the now well-established Japanese horror (or “J-horror”) film industry. They always seem to follow the same strict guidelines, too. Asian horror movie ghosts are almost always women or children who were severely wronged in some way during their life and their death was one final nail in the coffin (I won’t ask you to pardon the pun because that pun was fucking awful). They always appear decrepit, with a pale blue complexion usually blocked by cascades of unkempt hair. And they’re usually associated with water. It’s a weird visual, I know, to have the appearance of a ghost foreshadowed with things starting to drip or when the sight of an overflowing sink fills you with pant-shitting levels of terror, but you can’t deny it’s effectiveness (for an example of any of these, see “Dark Water,” “The Eye,” “Ringu,” or any of the, like, 12 “Ju-On” films).
          Keep in mind that I’m referring strictly to the original Japanese versions of these movies. All of these films have been remade into an American adaptation that are partially an attempt to integrate the two cultures and partially laziness on Hollywood’s part, and to be completely honest with you, I bullshitted the former point. In recent years the Asian film industry seems to have tapped into a vein that all people share, a vein that contains our fears and what it is that causes them. Any attempt on Hollywood’s behalf to Americanize these films is left with a bitter aftertaste because the end result is unoriginal and usually really fucking stupid by comparison.
            Which brings me to my thoughts on another great example of Asian filmmaking, “Shutter,” which was remade in 2008 as that movie that none of you saw because, again, American unoriginality. Shutter is a Thai film that, to put it simply, is a great horror film. You just watch it and say, “Wow, why can’t every scary movie hold itself to those expectations?”

            The basic premise is that a photographer, Tun, and his girlfriend, Jane hit a girl with their car on the way home from a celebration with friends. Rather than check to see if she’s all right, Tun urges Jane to drive away. From that point on Tun begins to notice that either his photography skills have gotten drastically shittier, or his pictures are beginning to be haunted by smudged images of the dead girl.

            Tormented by nightmares and a mysterious sore neck, Tun enlists Jane’s help in figuring out just what the hell is going on once he learns that all his friends from that party at the beginning of the film have committed suicide. We find out that Tun and his friends had a much more sinister role to play in the dead girl’s past than what was originally thought. We also find out what was causing Tun’s neck pain; surprisingly, that’s the freakiest part.

            Where “Shutter” works so effectively is in the pacing. It’s an element of filmmaking that is so crucial and yet all too often overlooked, which is a shame because it leads to a lot of crap movies, but also serves the purpose of weeding out the bad directors as a sort of Darwinian code of cinema. “Shutter” balances the scares with great emotional scenes and good dialogue that is important for moving along the story. But don’t worry, it’s not all boring dialogue, for you fans of cheap thrills, it has plenty of scares. Holy shit does it have some scares. This is where the pacing really stands out. Some of the scares are what you’d expect, the building tension, the crescendo of music, the false climax, the labored silence, then BOO! There are plenty of those, and they’re great. But then there are moments that are barely even fair to the watcher, where you don’t even realize what you were seeing was scary until it’s already over. Those types of spooks are the ones that really get me. They throw me out of my comfort zone, and usually quite effectively. An example: Tun is developing photos in the dark room in his apartment when who we expect to be Jane walks in and stands next to him. We can only assume it’s her because the camera is angled so we can only see her torso and Tun begins talking to her while still focusing on his work. Then the phone rings and he steps outside to answer it. “Hello, Tun, it’s Jane.” WHAT THE FUCK!? I literally had to pause the movie to let my fit of goose bumps pass. I know it’s not that remarkable a trick, but the way the previous scene led into this one, and considering how quickly it happened, there was no sense that something ominous was about to take place. It was masterfully executed.

            That’s all the examples I’m going to give for this movie to demonstrate its greatness. Normally I’d have no qualms about ruining the plot, but I feel I should give you a chance to see it for yourself and truly appreciate it. That way you’ll learn first hand how it came to pass that your humble movie reviewer crapped his pants in the name of Asian cinema.