Film Review – Exit 8 (2025)

      Exit 8, 2025.

      Directed by Genki Kawamura.

      Featuring Kazunari Ninomiya, Yamato Kochi, Nana Komatsu, Naru Asanuma, Kotone Hanase, Hirota Otsuka, Tara Nakashima, Reo Soda, Mikio Ueda, and HIKAKIN.

      SYNOPSIS:

      A man grows increasingly frantic as he finds himself trapped in a subway station, needing to accomplish a mission to escape.

      Setting aside my usual experience of having played video games that were later adapted into films, Genki Kawamura’s Exit 8 intrigued me enough to explore the relatively recent source material, which is certainly noteworthy. During this exploration, it became clear that the director (co-writing with Kentaro Hirase) is interpreting the game created by Kotake Create with significant psychological horror liberties. The original is a narrative-free walking simulator that does create an unsettling ambiance but focuses mainly on a gameplay loop that tests the player's awareness of visual or auditory changes within the subway station, which serves as a Silent Hill-like purgatorial state punishing those trapped there for their moral failings.

      This aspect naturally provides the film adaptation with more depth than merely replicating the game’s content and mechanics—a task the movie manages to accomplish successfully without requiring viewers to be familiar with the gameplay. It’s a refreshing change to see a film adaptation of a video game that effectively translates gameplay elements directly to the screen. Though there are characters involved, the premise allows viewers to feel engaged and even immersed in the experience.

      After an awkward phone conversation, where a man (Kazunari Ninomiya, referred to as The Lost Man) questions his readiness for fatherhood and whether to encourage his girlfriend (Nana Komatsu) to have an abortion—set against a disturbing subway encounter with an abrasive man scolding a woman with a crying baby—he begins traversing the station, either heading to his temp job or to meet her and make his decision. In a characteristically twisted Japanese psychological-horror style, this journey devolves into an endless cycle of puzzles and enigmas, featuring symbolism related to The Lost Man and two other characters he meets.

      The basic rules—or an outline of how to play—indicate that if an anomaly is perceived within these corridors, the participant must revert to the start to progress to the next level. If no anomaly is found, they proceed normally to reach the next floor. Anomalies can be anything from obvious signs like blood dripping from the ceiling to subtle details, such as doorknobs swapping places or an inverted 8. Symbolic elements abound, such as the sound of a crying baby emanating from a locker (given that the man is contemplating his fitness for fatherhood). Misjudging an anomaly or overlooking one sends the participant back to the beginning of the loop. The only means to escape is to complete this sequence correctly eight times in a row.

      Given this setup, it's easy for viewers to join The Lost Man in testing their observational skills as they witness the psychological horrors surrounding him. Nonetheless, the filmmakers might be stretching a brief 30-minute game with minimal narrative into a 95-minute cerebral experience that sometimes becomes excessively complex. Other characters, like The Walking Man (Yamato Kochi) and The Boy (Naru Asanuma), might also represent real individuals stuck in this loop or elements of the game being encountered.

      At times, Exit 8 daringly shifts perspectives, which comes with its own set of rewards and drawbacks. While it can be somewhat frustrating to return to the start to follow another character after investing around 30 minutes connecting with The Lost Man, the film adeptly introduces new viewpoints that raise thought-provoking questions about their presence and suggests that the true nightmare might lie in the monotonous routine of everyday life. Each character enhances the story, leading to a creative decision that ultimately culminates in a trippy, albeit somewhat predictable, conclusion.

      Moreover, it’s undeniable that the film succeeds in immersing viewers in a gameplay loop while leveraging its premise for subtle psychological disturbances reminiscent of some of the finest elements of Japanese horror showcased in both cinema and gaming.

      Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★

      Robert Kojder