Surreal, addictive, mind-bending horror
Life can sometimes feel like a disappointing, endless loop of mind-numbing repetition. On the other hand, unexpected crises can leave us feeling trapped by decision paralysis, and guilt can be a weight that keeps us from moving forward. Imagine those feelings physically manifesting into a real-life confinement. Exit 8 is a surreal Japanese horror film that quietly pulls the audience into the terror of being trapped in every meaning of the word. Part puzzle box, part horror, part psychological thriller, the story is awash in quiet symbolism, creepiness, confusion, and fear, that demand that you pay attention if you want to survive.
Based on the video game The Exit 8, the film is the story of a young man (Kazunari Ninomiya), later identified only as “The Lost Man,” who is traveling on a crowded train in Japan when he observes an overbearing man in a dark suit bullying a young mother because her baby is crying. The other passengers notice the bullying but stay focused on their cell phones and EarPods and don’t intervene, and the young man exits the train at the next station. He gets a call from his ex-girlfriend (Nana Komatsu), who tells him she’s pregnant with his child and wants to know what he wants to do about the baby. He is so much in drone mode that he doesn’t notice he has walked the same departure corridors multiple times and hasn’t made it to the exit. As the phone cuts out, he realizes he is now alone and unable to find his way out. The only other person he sees in the station is an older man (Yamato Kochi), later identified as "The Walking Man," holding a briefcase and cell phone, and who is walking the same looping hallways in the opposite direction as the protagonist. The Lost Man quickly realizes that the Walking Man is no longer human. The signs and posters hanging in the subway station rewrite themselves periodically, and the Lost Man eventually gets instructions that warn him to pay attention to his surroundings. He must turn back if he sees any “anomalies,” but must continue forward if things look normal. Each successful loop brings him one level closer to level eight, where he can finally be free, but any mistakes land him back to the beginning at level zero. Needless to say, there are lots of anomalies. Some are horrifying, some are subtle enough to be missed and therefore land the man screaming in frustration at losing his progress. However, some things that seem to be “anomalies” turn out to be real, which creates a different type of fear. Adding to the tension are his debilitating asthma, a pounding music score, and a few strange inhabitants of the corridors, including monstrous creatures, a quiet small boy, a strange adolescent girl, and the occasional bleeding wall.
Exit 8 is a feast for puzzle box fans. The film invites viewers to not just watch but to participate in the game of observing and strategizing. The close camera angles and intense sounds of the opening scenes put us directly into the physical point of view of the main character. We see the subway through his eyes, listen to his strange choice of music in his EarPods, and are startled by his eerily familiar-sounding ringtone. The story relies heavily and delightfully on symbolism. The subway corridor has a poster of an Escher painting of a never-ending, twisted Möbius track with doomed red ants futilely following an endless looped path. The music in an early scene is the repetitive beats of Ravel’s Bolero, which seems an unlikely choice for this character until we sense its significance as a pounding, escalating, relentlessly repeating pattern. The shape of the recurring exit numeral 8 also echoes the infinity symbolism and the poster of the Möbius track. His EarPods block out reality, reinforcing the drone and avoidance mentality, which opens the door to deeper feelings of paralysis and regret, in the purgatory-like setting.
Although the story starts out with a closely personal point of view, the scenes expand to take in layered emotions and backstories. One of the best aspects of the film is the clever camera angles used throughout to draw the audience in and make them feel trapped, fearful, but curious as well. The story alternates repeatedly from silence and sterility to loudness and pressure. Adding to the tension is the very small cast, in a small space, and their restrained but fearful response to a different kind of horror. Kazunari Ninomiya is a convincing Lost Man trapped in a terrifying situation while also internally struggling with another, more profound, type of fear. His ordinariness and passivity become the ideal canvas for this type of story. Yamato Kochi is perfect as the Walking Man, managing to be both stoically pedantic, jump-scare creepy, and heartbreakingly afraid. The portrayal is multifaceted and intensely memorable. Completing the central trio is young Naru Asanuma as The Boy, an unexpected small child who is both strange and poignant and has ties to all the characters as the story time loops through a deeper level of meaning and fear.
Like 2025’s Sinners, Exit 8 is heavy with symbolism. Viewers could easily spend lots of time trying to unpack all the visual clues tucked into each scene. Like Inception or season one of Lost, everything matters in each frame. Focusing more on fear and less on gore, Exit 8 is the ideal detour into clever, cerebral, stressful, mind-bending light horror that has higher messaging and is worth the creepy journey.
Highlights:
- Addictive cerebral horror
- Quietly solid acting
- Satisfying and unique storytelling
Nerd Coefficient: 8/10.
POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.
