Upon hearing about the opportunity to attend a screening of a film adaptation of Junji Ito’s manga Uzumaki as part of Fantastic Film Festival Australia, I was beyond excited. As a fan of the mangaka’s work and someone chronically online enough to have witnessed the 2024 animated series adaptation and all the criticism which followed, I entered the cinema with high hopes that were, unfortunately, not entirely met. However, I had a great time laughing with my friend at the campiness of the film’s aesthetics, along with an audience who similarly revelled in the unintentionally humorous aspects of the film.

Uzumaki (2000), directed by Japanese filmmaker Akihiro Higuchi, also known as Higuchinsky, is a slow-paced 90 minutes of lackluster horror, unable to be fully redeemed by flashy editing. The film follows high schooler Kirie Goshima, and her childhood friend Shuichi Saito, as their town becomes cursed with the uzumaki (spiral), a plague that affects all its inhabitants and consumes their lives, both figuratively and literally. The film opens slowly, following Kirie’s day-to-day life as a high schooler: riding her bike to school, being confessed to by an odd classmate, and chatting with her friend in the bathroom. The audience is first introduced to the curse of the uzumaki when Kirie spots Shuichi’s father filming a snail, seemingly in a trance. From this point onwards, the film progresses at a snaillike pace (pun intended) to the point where I, a self-proclaimed seasoned cinephile, found difficulty resisting checking the time on my watch.

While the pacing of the film picks up in the latter half, it became difficult to remain invested in the narrative. I must acknowledge that some of the horror sequences were genuinely suspenseful (though I am admittedly a coward who cannot sleep after watching analog horror reels on Instagram), especially a scare involving a washing machine. However, the lacking continuity of this scene hindered its impact, as the buildup of the sequence led to a fade-to-black, only for the jumpscare to occur minutes later. As the remaining runtime played out, the horror of the film relied on green-tinted hues, jumpscares, and drawn-out sequences in futile attempts of manufacturing tension.

The film felt disjunct, which is understandable, considering the original manga contains 20 chapters and 648 pages. At one point there was a momentary reference to some mythical legend regarding a spiralling snake, which I thought would have led to an interesting subplot but, alas, did not, in favour of more shocking deaths and gore. The film was also very open-ended, which is typical of Ito’s works, but in the theatre, I felt as though there was little indication of a true conclusion, and instead merely a sudden cut-off before the credits began rolling.

The romance subplot was also weakly executed, relying heavily on tropes which reinforce damsel-in-distress and male saviour dynamics. This was further exacerbated by Eriko Hatsune’s performance as Kirie, which often feels entirely disconnected from the film’s horror. Where the film sets out to elicit dread or suspense, Hatsune presents comically wide eyes and a saccharine tone to her voice. 

The cinematography of Uzumaki is nothing to write home about, save for the occasional wide-angle shot that resulted in not anxiety or fear but great guffaws and snickers from the audience. I believe the standout aspect of the film has to be its special effects and editing, featuring repeated quick zooms, distorted backgrounds, and my favourite: an explosion effect that accompanied the snubbing of a cigarette butt. These stylistic choices offered the film a memorable and eccentric visual identity that compensated for some of its weaker narrative choices and inconsistent tone.

I applaud Higuchinsky’s efforts, as Junji Ito’s works are notoriously difficult to adapt, due to his immensely intricate artworks and mastery of manga as an art form. As evident through both the 2000 film and the aforementioned 2024 animated adaptation, Ito’s works require great meticulousness and eye for detail that are both often limited by economic restraints, rather than technology. It is inevitable that Ito’s works will continue to be adapted, and I hope that whoever faces these challenges next will have a clearer creative vision in mind. Whilst I cannot admit that Uzumaki was technically impressive or entirely faithful to Ito’s vision, it was nonetheless entertaining.