NYFF Review: Haze

On an uncharacteristically hot and humid mid-September morning, Filmbrain (along with partner-in-crime Cinephiliac) raced through Manhattan streets to catch an early screening of Shinya Tsukamoto's latest offering -- a digital-video bit of minimalist horror called Haze. Hearts racing, and dripping with sweat, we slid into our seats to watch what can only be described as a nightmare writ large. Fifty intense minutes later, our hearts still racing (albeit for different reasons), the house lights go on -- the dream is over. Though Haze lacks the extreme graphic violence of the Tetsuo films, or the hyperkineticism of Tokyo Fist, it's no less disturbing. A man (Tsukamoto) awakens to find himself trapped in the confines of a concrete maze, with only a few inches of space for him to navigate his way through -- be it on his back, stomach, or even pulling himself along a jagged pipe by his teeth -- each new turn finds our nameless hero with an even greater challenge. After several hallucinations (including a giant fish) and ruminations on memory, a second character appears and....well, Tsukamoto brings on the heavy weirdness, with scenes that aren't unlike those "huh?" moments from Lynch's Mulholland Drive. Are we meant to fully understand this last third of the film, or is Tsukamoto's goal to leave us as much in the dark as his character? Is there an underlying metaphor on life, love, and death, or is he simply thriving in the ambiguity? The fact is, it doesn't really matter. Tsukamoto wants us to experience the film viscerally, and in that he does not fail. The sound design, editing, and frequent moments of darkness work wonders on the senses. On top of that, it's genuinely scary, with the real chills coming less from what's on the screen than from the depths of our own imagination. A film that claustrophobics might do best to avoid, it's a perfect fit for the single midnight showing at the NYFF.