Found footage films can be something of a love it or hate it proposition for horror fans, and I land somewhere in the middle. There are fantastic examples of the subgenre/format, but for every winner there are dozens of movies that probably should have resulted in jail time. There’s a subset of found footage, though, that has a far higher success rate.
Faux docs – mockumentaries if you’re nasty – use that intimate, handheld camera style alongside talking heads, onscreen text, and more to simulate a fully formed documentary on a given subject. The end goal is the same, and terrific ones like Ghostwatch, The Medium, and Lake Mungo offer engrossing, slow burn thrills that build to a frightening payoff.
One of the greatest examples of this is Koji Shiraishi’s Noroi: The Curse. And while that may be Shiraishi’s best known film – despite having only three reviews on Rotten Tomatoes – we’re actually here to talk about a later faux doc of his that isn’t covered on Rotten Tomatoes at all. 2009’s Occult suggests that Shiraishi’s comfort place is this specific subset of found footage films. It’s a masterclass in ultra low budget filmmaking used to create, shape, and execute both tension and terror in documentary form… with one potentially film-ruining misstep.
Shiraishi plays himself, a filmmaker interested in documenting and exploring the real world horrors around us. He’s drawn to an incident from a few years prior where a man named Matsuki (Takashi Nomura) stabbed and killed people at a seaside park before jumping into the ocean. His body was never found, but the pain lives on in both tourist footage of the attack and in the memories of survivors.
The knife attack left the now unemployed and listless Eno (Shohei Uno) with a strange pattern of scars on his back, but he tells Shiraishi that he’s actually grateful for the incident all the same. He can see beyond the veil now and is witness to strange beings floating in the sky and other paranormal events. The film crew aren’t exactly sure what to make of his claims, but as unexplainable images are caught on tape and new details lead to even stranger reveals, it soon becomes clear that something big is around the corner. And Eno, as odd and as off-putting as he may be, is likely to be at the heart of it.
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Occult is an undeniable slow burn, but it’s a film where every detail is another step forward. What seem like dead ends or disinteresting detours are actually moving viewers towards a frightening collision between real world violence and Lovecraftian horrors. The film’s mythology has a basis in Japanese folklore (with a specific element that makes it one half of a great double feature with 1991’s wonderfully weird Hiruko the Goblin). We get glimpses of these flying figures, and they most resemble the “floaters” we get in our vision sometimes. Slightly out of focus, drifting slowly across the sky, they’re always teasing the reality that they’re actually living, breathing beings.
Other strange, inexplicable events, observations, and connections arise, but it’s the film’s grounded nature that becomes its greatest strength. Rather than feel distant, even culturally, we watch as Eno and Shiraishi share an afternoon screening of the newly released Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull – and find import there as well. They also pay a visit to another filmmaker who has been investigating some of the same phenomena, and seeing Kiyoshi Kurosawa play himself secures the meta narrative even tighter alongside ideas of film, mythology, and personal violence.
Even as inter-dimensional beings and grand acts of terror are floating in and out of view, the dynamic between Shiraishi and Eno takes hold. The filmmaker eventually crosses a line with his subject and pays a price, but while there’s a clear madness to Eno, there’s also a sharp commentary on capitalism, Japan’s economy (at the time), and a society that fails to find the value in individuals. Eno’s struggling to find work, and Shiraishi uses that to his advantage by offering him money in exchange for his weird behaviors and visions.
That lack of societal purpose and the dismissive attitudes of others towards the unemployed (i.e. those not bringing value to society) has always been a motivator for a madness built on loneliness. Eno gets lost in his own beliefs, but it’s not uncommon for others to get caught up in communities they’d otherwise avoid – cults, terror cells, Reddit threads. Occult draws a clear line to the 1995 terror attack on Tokyo’s subway line by members of the Aum Shinrikyo cult, and that history plays into the film’s incredibly tense and nerve-wracking third act.
As good as Shiraishi is at crafting his low budget faux doc, he hits a potential stumbling block when it comes to digital effects. The floating beings actually look good and nearly convince in their physical presence, but the film’s final shot is, er, arguably unfortunate. I use words like potential and arguably because what’s not a dealbreaker for me might be far too much for you. No spoilers as to the image itself, but in the film’s defense, it is meant to capture something unimaginable that has never been witnessed before… and the case can be made that it succeeds?
Accept that final shot and you’ll be left bathing in the unnerving thrill of a faux doc done right. While Occult might lack the degree and visceral nature of Noroi’s terrors, it succeeds at tying together some very real societal concerns and human observations with an impending and unnerving slice of cosmic horror. The opening knife attack is harrowing, the steady stream of seemingly disconnected reveals offers an engaging puzzle, and there’s a haunting sadness in Eno, a man whose loneliness has opened a doorway into delusion, ego, and madness.
Give Occult and Noroi a spin, and if you enjoy Shiraishi’s efforts, congratulations – you’ve now opened your own door into a filmography that’s home to roughly sixty features including a couple dozen or so faux doc chillers.
Hopping Mad is a column dedicated to exploring the beautiful, thrilling, incorrigible, and wildly entertaining world of Asian horror films from the ‘80s, ‘90s, and 2000s. Hong Kong, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, and Thailand are just a few of the 50 individual countries in Asia open to an appearance. Each is home to histories, folklore, and storytelling that don’t always reach western shores, and in keeping with the Certified Forgotten mission statement, Rob Hunter is hoping to change that by highlighting some of these underseen and unforgettable Asian horror gems.
