Ringu (1998)

How often do you hear fans of a book complaining that the film version takes liberties with the source material? "It was successful for a reason," they always say. "Why fix what isn't broke?" Well, without going on a tangent about how popularity doesn't necessarily equal quality, let's instead take a look at one of the more definitive examples of intelligent screenwriting that tightens and strengthens an already excellent thriller and takes it up to the next level. It turns out, editors can be a great thing.

Alright, so you know the drill. I just went over most of this in my review of Suzuki's original 1991 novel, but this review would feel incomplete without a little summarizing, so here goes: when teenagers begin to die mysteriously of heart failure all around her, ace reporter Reiko Asakawa picks up the thread, which leads her to a cursed videotape that turns her entire world upside down. Now, with naught but a week to live, must find out who authored it and what exactly they want before she dies just like those who viewed the tape before her. It's a thrilling race against the clock, and for the most part, the plot here is nearly identical to the source material. If you've never seen any of the film adaptations or read the original novel, then at this point you should just stop and go check one of them out. Seriously, I'll wait. For the rest of us, though, it's time for a little comparing and contrasting.

First up, there are the two protagonists. Besides a gender flip of our hero into a single mother, and a general rewrite of Ryuji Takayama's character that removes every trace of his villainous, psychopathic behavior in the book, things are surprisingly faithful to the text. The biggest liberty taken is probably the decision to give Ryuji a 'sensitivity' to the supernatural and/or ESP that allows him to experience vivid flashbacks through touch alone (very convenient for the story) and also, occasionally read people's minds. The fact that these two are no longer male buddies, and instead are estranged lovers is pretty genius. Reiko's character in general is so much stronger than that of Kazuyuki from the novel. The fact that she's a single mother struggling to protect her son from the darkness bubbling under the surface of the modern world really strengthens a lot of the grown-up fears and anxieties that the source material only hints at. So, while the story takes liberties with many details, it's all very much in line with Koji Suzuki's original intent. I also really appreciate that this film doesn't feel the need to stop everything to introduce us to our lead, instead letting us just watch her for a while as she does a little detective work, so that the plot moves forward while we learn about her and her son. Compare to the American remake, where we instead get a long, quiet introduction scene that packs in everything to get it out of the way early.

The villain of our story, Sadako, hasn't been altered quite as obviously, but her backstory is certainly more effective and less convoluted here than in the original. You see, while the Ring books, starting with the sequel, eventually started moving in a whacky, sci-fi direction, the seeds were there from the beginning when it comes to Susuzki's treatment of Sadako. You see, she was raped by a man who happened to be passing through whom she had no connection to, murdered, and then dumped in the well. Only, it turns out that the man who raped and killed her had smallpox at the time, and so in that moment, Sadako (who is intersex, by the way) combines somehow with the virus so that she lives on after the death of her earthly body. Sounds absurd, right? Well, how about instead of all that bullshit, Sadako was a just scary psychic child whose own parents killed her out of fear of her and/or a sense of responsibility for the awful things she can do with her mind, even though it's never clear if she has any ill intent until after she's murdered and left in a well. How about instead of a lengthy story about how her mother got her psychic powers by retrieving a statue from the ocean, which must have carried over to Sadako once she was born, how about Sadako is straight-up implied to be the product of a woman and a Lovecraftian sea creature? And then there's the simple fact that we never hear the girl speak or even see her face, which makes her presence in the film feel spectral and mysterious. Needless to say, these are all smart changes that only serve to make the story more interesting.

Otherwise, the changes are fairly minor. The spooky tape has the same backstory: it was accidentally recorded by a kid trying to tape his favorite show in an unfamiliar location where the channels were all different from what he was used to, so he ended up recording static. Only, when he watches the tape, it isn't static at all. The explanation of all of this is also delivered much more effectively by moving it to the opening, which now features two girls so that they'll have an excuse to talk out loud about what's going on in their heads (in the book, it's just the one girl wandering around the house, though the scene is still mostly the same.) The biggest thing with the tape is the simple excision of the rather dumb aspect of the tape in the original book where the tape lets you know that you're in danger by essentially flashing up the text "NOW THAT YOU HAVE SEEN THIS YOU WILL DIE UNLESS YOU DO WHAT WE ASK" I mean, I guess that would be creepy if it really happened to you, but I've been spoiled by both this film and the American remake where no such thing happens. The American remake is the smartest about it (the phonecall lets you know that you're in danger by reminding you of how long you have left) but this film is a close second. Here, the solution is simple: the children she's encountered and interviewed have already explained to her how the tape works, so when everything plays out exactly like they said, she can only assume she has one week to do something about it before she's toast. In the book, this was an issue, because up until the tape is actually viewed, we are completely in the dark as to what might be behind the mysterious deaths, and so needed that explanatory text to appear during the tape. Needless to say, the film was smart to make that simple tweak and eliminate one of the sillier aspects of the book. 

Otherwise, this is Ring, just cleaned up and simplified in satisfying ways. While the thriller aspect is downplayed somewhat in favor of making the film as frightening and ghostly as possible, it's still an intense race for the cure that we have to give credit to Suzuki for coming up with entirely on his own. The investigative thread here is still a little weak, in terms of how they get from point A to point B, but it's easily forgiven. You still get an identical shocking twist in the third act and apocalyptic ending. Overall, those who aren't interested in the books ought not feel beholden to it. While I really enjoyed diving into their bizarre gonzo aspects, the films are still stronger yarns and certainly more frightening ones. Well, the original ones are: the sequels are garbage, while the sequel novels are actually alright, all things considered.

In terms of pure scares, this film has legs, no doubt. The opening scene, while still not quite as strong as Gore Verbinski's take, is the perfect opening to a horror film. It's so mysterious and nightmarishly surreal, and it never fails to quicken the pulse. It's been said before that this opening signaled the end of the teen slasher era, and looking at it in that vein, alongside all the adult fears explored here that I mentioned a few paragraphs ago, only serves to make the film that much more fascinating. 

But how about the scene of our protagonist exploring her dead niece's room? In the American remake, this scene actually takes place in the kitchen, and comes across as a cheap jumpscare with even cheaper CGI to distort the victim's face. Here, our protagonist slowly climbs the stairs, tiptoes into the room, begins looking through the girl's things, only to turn around and discover that her sister has been standing in the room all along, staring off in the middle distance. Still no jump scare. But then she suddenly flings open the closet door, and the soundtrack makes an awful racket as we see a flash of the girl's pained, grotesque expression on her face, without the help of any special effects besides an inversion of the colors just before the image disappears. Much more effective and less cheap, I'd say. 

Or how about the first time we glimpse Sadako, reflected in the powered-down television screen in the cabin where Reiko watches the tape? Again, no scare chord. Just a spooky blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment of horror. I especially like the scene unique to this adaptation where Ryuji is chilling on a bench when he sees a pair of feet clad in dancing shoes cut right through the crowd and approach him, and he's too frightened to look up at her, so we just see her pale legs until the scene ends. It's the kind of surreal spooky scene that I love, one that simulates the logic of a nightmare. If I look up, I'll die. Just as in the opening: if I turn around, I'll die.

The presentation of Ringu is just as strong as the thrilling tale at its heart. I love the opening shots of ocean waves occasionally overlaid with TV scanlines and static, hinting at many of the horrifying particulars that we will become familiar with by the end of the film. I love how natural everything looks: there's color, and texture, and no attempt to color the whole thing seafoam green to make it look as sickly as the story at its core is. It's less one-note that way, I feel; there's a contrast, right? I also love the score: mostly dissonant cues, used sparingly, but my god are they effective. It knows when to get melodic though, and in those moments it kind of reminds me of a mix of the Twin Peaks soundtrack crossed with the save music from Resident Evil 2 or something. 

The key word there, however, is 'sparingly:' remember the opening scene? Ever wonder why exactly it's so intense and hooks you so effectively in a few short minutes? Well, go back and listen to the music playing in the background. Go ahead, I'll wait... Yes, that's right: there is none. None whatsoever. And it's brilliant. Sometimes, less really is more. Unfortunately, the worst blunder in the film comes from the sound effect used when Sadako is murdered and thrown into the well, where an all-too-common and far too loud THWACK! sound is used, which is almost guaranteed to elicit laughter these days, but it's a very small thing, even if it comes during an important scene.

Effects aren't flawless, but they're mostly practical, and that counts for a lot. The way Sadako's hair and flesh just falls right off her skull as Reiko lovingly strokes it is as convincing as it is sickening. How about those fucked up, nail-less bloody little nubs that Sadako has? They're honestly hard to look at and go a long way towards making Sadako's iconic appearance during the climax that much more disturbing, which is not really the case in the American remake, where things are just too epic and explosive to focus on anything so small. And then there's her herky-jerky movement, an unnatural gait achieved by filming her scenes in reverse and playing it backwards in post. It's all very impressive. Sure, the exact moment she comes through the screen is a little rough, but it's just as questionable in the more expensive remake, and at least here it's much slower and more, you know, scary. So technically, while the remake is generally considered an obvious visual improvement, I'd say I'd have to disagree. The truth is much less clear-cut.

So, with all that being said, Ringu is a beautifully considered adaptation of a very entertaining horror novel that isn't afraid to take liberties with the source material when appropriate, yet is intelligent enough to know when to leave it alone and let the text do its thing. It's a solid middle-ground between the more liberal American remake and the original, whacked-out novel, and I highly recommend it to all horror fans who have yet to see it. Really, why not go ahead and make it a double bill with the remake, so that you, too, can compare, contrast, and follow along as I continue to examine these films?