Some spectators might feel that contemporary J-horror narratives are but weak derivates of the classics of the golden-age of J-horror, yet those spectators remain (willingly?) ignorant of the attempts made by young and experienced directors to breathe new life within the ailing genre. Keishi Kondo impressed audiences with New religion (2022), Ryota Kondo crafted a somewhat unusual atmospheric horror with Missing Child Videotape (2024) and Yuta Shimotsu centred his film Best Wishes to All (2023) around the notion of happiness with great effect.

One experienced director who still tries to reshuffle genre-elements to craft fresh and exciting horror experiences is none other Koji Shiraishi, the unmatched master of pseudo-documentary styled horror. Spectator might know him from Noroi: The Curse (2005), Teketeke (2009) or Senritsu Kaiki File Kowasugi! (2014). In recent years, however, he surprised audiences with the twisted A Beast in Love (2020) and the effective horror-comedy House of Sayuri (2024). Red Spider Lilies: The Ascension, his latest short – a pilot-project, offers the spectator a glance at what Koji Shiraishi wants to bring to life and thematically explore in his next feature-film project.  

Shiraishi’s narrative opens with an otherworldly presence attacking Kotoko (Tomomi Kono), piercing a big rusty nail in her eye. To deal with the situation, her sisters Nana (Tomoma Hirota) and Ami (Eriko Nakamura) decide to ask the help of Teshigawara (Hirotaro Honda), an exorcist, and his assistant Mr Suzuki (Kenta Kiguchi).

Shiraishi, choosing signal the presence of a threat via sound instead of showing, heightens the unsettling nature of the atmosphere of the film’s opening sequence. The spectator is left unable to defuse this treat by gaining access to its image but is also unable to determine what it desires.  However, this absent presence is not a mere elegant trick to make the spectator ill-at-ease, but the way Shiraishi introduces the structuring thematical element of the narrative: the return of the repressed. The chilling sounds that underline the unseen threat do not merely emphasize the presence of the repressed – what has not been seen, but signal its return – what wants to be seen.

What violently pushes for recognition is, as Teshigawara rightly surmises, a sinister secret concerning the family – “Something to do with your ancestors and the house”. That a mirror seems to the cause of the haunting is quite illustrative. The mirror, as reflective surface, does not only function as a gateway where the repressed can materialize itself, but also elegantly implies that the subject, confronted with his own reflection, cannot see the repressed that lies beyond – the ego constitutes a defence against the ‘otherworldly’ unseen, the unperceived effects of our comportment.   

So, what remains unseen? What kind of truth is Teshigawara up against? While we cannot offer any answers to these questions – it would destroy the experience, we can divulge that Koji Shiraishi’s twist-rich revenge horror succeeds in subverting spectators’ expectations in a highly satisfying manner. Moreover, by expertly exploiting the elements of the unseen and the return of the repressed, Shiraishi succeeds in putting the destructive impact of seductive religious swindles powerfully and satisfactorily into question. In a way, Shiraishi’s short film can be read as a phantasmatic elaboration of the truth Tetsuya Yamagami exposed by assassinating Shino Abe in broad day-light, a truth beautifully visualized in Masao Adachi’s Revolution + 1 (2022).

The composition of Red Spider Lilies: The Ascension as well as the way sound is utilized throughout the short-film proves that Koji Shiraishi is a master of the horror genre. Slow dynamism is carefully exploited to unnerve the spectator, sudden cut-aways are used to surprise the spectator and sabotage his attempt to find a safe perspective and the threat of the unseen is made present by the combination of aural elements (e.g. the creaking of the wooden floor) and images (e.g. tracking shots of the ceiling, the emphasis on the anxious look of Kotoko). 

The unsettling atmosphere of Red Spider Lilies: The Ascension is, moreover, supported by a darkish colour-design and the subtle musical accompaniment. While the presence of shadows in the visual frame signals the inability to erase the threat that lurks in the time-worn traditional Japanese manor, the music echoes, whenever necessary, that imminent materialization of the threat and its thirst to enact its violence (Music-note 1).

However, as the narrative unfolds, the horror ebbs away, making way for the dimension of mystery to blossom. The spectator can find a place to feel at ease, yet unsure about the way the story will unfold. In the finale, Shiraishi utilizes different colour-schemes to emphasize the definitive shift within his film’s atmosphere – the atmospheric horror has transformed into a stylish atmosphere of monstrous revenge. 

Does Red Spider Lilies: The Ascension, Shiraishi’s hors d’oeuvre, work as a short-film? Yes. Does Koji Shiraishi convince audiences they crave for the full course of supernatural deliciousness? Absolutely! So, Shiraishi, work your magic – pun intended, and craft another fabulous horror-film to savour.

Music-note 1: Shiraishi also exploits music to short-circuit the spectator’s attempt to deflate the tension. Music is, thus, not only a tool to guide the spectator’s expectation – violence will follow, but to overturn and subvert it – violence might follow. However, by pushing the spectator in an anticipatory position of uncertainty, Shiraishi renders the spectator unable to find that place of peace, but extract some pleasure of this phantasmatically induced inability.