Spiral

Andrew Heskins — Wed, 01 Dec 2004 14:22:34 +0000

A triumph of unpleasantness in the everyday, Suzuki’s unsettling sequel to Ring is creepier and superior in every way…

(Warning: contains spoilers!)

When the body of an old friend from medical school turns up on pathologist Ando’s slab ready for dissection his curiosity is naturally aroused. His marriage in tatters after the death of his son, there’s little to keep him from brink of depression beyond his work.

Soon Ando is uncovering the original mystery of the Ring virus, but behind it lurks a greater danger, that it is mutating so that Sadako’s evil can find another way into the world whatever it takes.

The actual film version of Spiral – originally released back to back with Ring – may have more poorly received than the adaptations of the original and the short story that became Dark Water, but the book itself is a far more impressive effort than the original.

Brilliantly building tension from the most routine and innocuous events and objects, like the later Asian horror movies, Suzuki manages to instil a leaky tap or an open window with a sense of dread and foreboding. More tightly paced than the original, the result is as unsettling as it is compulsive. You almost dare yourself to turn the page, even with an apprehension of what you might find.

Perhaps it was the extended gap between books, some four years, but Suzuki has a playful disregard for his audience. He throws everything they thought they knew about Sadako’s curse away, leaving them as clueless as our main protagonist. The deeper we are drawn into the mystery, the more we learn that, like Ando himself, there’s no turning back.

And if Suzuki’s original book had a nod to video pirating, Spiral is a more knowing acknowledgement of the books and his own success, as the virus looks to spread through the written word, as Asakawa’s original account of the Ring looks set to be published and even turned into a film! (Perhaps the making of the film must had been announced or at least discussed, even if it did take a couple for years for Hideo Nakata to bring it to the screen.) Such confident self-knowing, so playful of the slim boundaries between reality and fiction, is reminiscent of that scene in Scream where the lead character complains she’ll be played by Tori Spelling in the movie version, only for that to happen in the sequel.

There is a far greater purpose in Suzuki lengthy explanations of the virus, even if, once again, he reaches just a little too far in his conclusion, setting up the final book in the trilogy. He even manages to include the details from original book almost verbatim, yet without boring the reader. Meaning that the novel can be read as a stand alone as well as a sequel. A gripping page-turner, this is a must for fans of Asian horror.

Ring

Andrew Heskins — Wed, 01 Dec 2004 10:36:26 +0000

The book that spawned the cult movie, not to mention the US remake, and led the tsunami of Asian horror movies in the last few years. But is it really that scary?…

(Warning: this review contains spoilers for those who haven’t either seen the movie or read the book!)
The English language has such a dominance over published books it’s rare to be able to enjoy a work from outside of Britain and America. Yet elsewhere the world laps up English output translating all manner of novels. Usually, it takes a genuine amount of interest in the work of an author for it to get translated – in this case a Hollywood remake of a cult adaption finally brought Koji Suzuki to an English speaking audience, some 12(?) years after the first novel of his Ringu trilogy was such a massive success in his native Japan.

Ironically, stylistically and thematically Koji’s book shares much with one of the few writers to break that language barrier, countryman Haruki Murakami. Like Murakami, Koji’s lead character seems emotionally detached from both his life and family, but his need to feel more deeply is more than answered.

Investigating the sudden death of his niece, reporter Asakawa discovers that three other teenagers have died simultaneously. The one thing they all have in common is a night spent in a cabin, and an unmarked video. As his curiosity gets the better of him, Asakawa watches the video only to find out that anyone that does will die exactly a week later. Asakawa’s investigation becomes a race against time as he tries to find out the source of the curse, together with old friend Ryuji Takayama, before it kills him too, and uncover the mystery of Sadako – who will stop at nothing to get her revenge on the world, even from beyond the grave.

With a straightforward writing style reminiscent of Murakami, Suzuki brilliantly build the tension of the situation. His core idea, of a virus spread by technology that forces it’s victims to duplicate and share it with others if they want to live, is still a clever one and a somewhat witty comment on video pirating. It seems even more pertinent now with illegal copying of DVDs so rife – particularly in Asia. It’s also rather prophetic considering the amount of damage so-called computer viruses cause to our everyday lives, just because we rely on that technology so much.

Suzuki’s weakness comes when he tries to explain too much of the horror away. The narrative tension seems to get lost under a mountain of, often unconvincing, intellectual conjecture, just when you should be drawn deeper into the terrifying mystery of Sadako. Odd details only cloud the story, like doubts around the moral standing of Takayama’s character – that allow Asakawa to place his life in danger – only to find they are unfounded, or Sadako herself, who seems to be of transgender (that Asian obsession).

Hideo Nakata’s film adaption changed surprisingly little from its source, bar obvious change of sex over the lead character. Like most of his changes they amount to a simplification – as well as a preference for female leads. Nakata’s brushing over, at best, of many of the details only help to strengthen the horror. The audience, particularly a movie audience, don’t need everything explained to them. In fact, that only makes it scarier.

Nakata’s revisions only add to the enjoyment of the story. His introduction with Asakawa’s niece on the phone might have been in the book, but with Nakata it deliberately echoes the opening scene in Scream, a nod to the clichéd image of the girl alone at home. He turns the video into an urban myth, with School kids all aware of it – hinting that there could be far more copies of it out there than there are in the book. And lastly, there is that main divergence from the original book, the physical manifestation of Sadako…

No doubt seeing Hideo Nakata’s screen adaption has coloured my opinion – I know all the big frights that are coming, but Ring, well written and thoroughly engrossing as it is, just isn’t as scary – but it is worth reading.

Due to it’s success Suzuki himself seems to have broken the language barrier, with both it’s sequel Spiral and a book of short stories including Dark Water have been translated into English, and we can all be thankful for that.

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Spiral

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