Kwaidan

Four tales of ghosts and spirits. In "The Black Hair," a penniless swordsman divorces his loving wife to marry into a rich family but eventually longs for his former life. "The Woman in the Snow" concerns a woodcutter whose life is spared by a forest spirit as long as he never tells anyone what he saw. "Hoachi the Earless" is about a blind musician who sings of a great battle, and his favorite audience is comprised of ghosts. The final tale, "In a Cup of Tea," follows a writer who relates the story of a nobleman's attendant who sees a strange man's face in a cup of tea.

Set in feudal Japan, Kwaidan is a horror anthology produced in 1964, and yet, it remains timeless and effective, surreal and haunting, horrifying and strangely beautiful, drawing on Japanese folklore to create its tales.

Many horror anthologies follow a formula in the Tales from the Crypt and Creepshow mold: nasty villains receive their just desserts through supernatural and ironic means. When human justice fails, the supernatural steps in to balance the scales. This can be fun, but it can also be hackneyed and predictable.

Kwaidan does not skimp on its stories. Each feels fully developed, full of rich plot developments, and well-defined characters. These stories play as dream-like fairy tales. The color scheme is gorgeous, and the sets, often transparently artificial, achieve an otherworldly effect.

The stories unfold gradually, unrushed, deliberate, almost as if someone is reading them to you as a bedtime tale, and in that methodical pace, as the ghosts and supernatural elements become more prominent, you don't question them. You accept the world of the living and the land the dead, and the heroes of these stories unwittingly find themselves at the crossroads where these realms meet.

This is not a movie to shock you; it's a movie to haunt you. Kwaidan does not depend on jump scares or violence. The horror stems from human emotions. Humans are flawed, misguided, and liable to make mistakes, and these characters do. The spirits in these stories can be seen as stand-ins for such emotions as regret, grief, and vanity. The ghosts are manifestations of human sins.

The stories have an intimate, personal feeling, but at times, the movie spreads its wings and creates an epic touch. "Hoachi the Earless" dramatizes the Battle of Dan-no-ura from the Genpei War and features two armies clashing on ships atop a mist-covered sea. The sequence lacks dialogue and sound effects (the music is wonderfully eerie and mournful) and somewhat in slow-motion, creating the feeling that this is a memory or a dream. 

When the defeated clan's noble family commit suicide by hurling themselves into the sea, the family plummets into nothingness. The moment is as horrifying as it gorgeous and sad.

"In a Cup of Tea," the final tale, is the shortest of the bunch, and also the most surreal and the most meta. Director Masaki Kobayashi deliberately leaves it unfinished, inviting us to consider that by watching these tales, we too have crossed into the spirit world and possibly invited ghosts into our lives.