Blood and roses: Vampire themes in Japanese visual kei bands’ music videos
This article discusses the depiction of vampires in vampire-themed videos during the golden age of Visual Kei J-rock and J-goth bands in the 1990s and the early 2000s. Visual Kei is certain aesthetics characteristic of the 1980s and 1990s Japanese bands which relies on complementing the music with extravagant costumes, make up and elaborate settings for live performance and recorded videos. The style is deliberately exaggerated and often involves elements of transgender or genderless masquerade. The clothes and accessories often combine a contemporary look with designs inspired by period costumes. Needless to say, the vampire fits right in. The article focuses more directly on two largely popular bands, Malice Mizer and Dir En Grey mixing elements of rock, goth and heavy metal in their music, with specific references to Malice Mizer’s Dracula-inspired MV film Bara no Konrei – Mayonaka ni Kawashita Yakusoku (Wedding Rose – The Promise Exchanged at Midnight, 2001) and Dir En Grey’s MV Obscure (2003).
Scenes from the myco-apocalypse: Ishiro Honda’s Matango and the eco-anxiety of the nuclear age
Known mostly for his 1954 film Gojira and subsequent contributions to the big-monster kaiju genre, Ishiro Honda is one of the most acclaimed directors of the atomic age cinema. Having experienced the terror of the atomic bomb first-hand, Honda made it clear through numerous interviews that he intended his films to function as a reminder of the tragedy but also as a warning. While his Gojira films metaphorize the bomb under the guise of a 50-metre-tall monster wreaking havoc on urban infrastructure, other works deal with more subtle environmental effects of nuclear pollution and their potential consequences for humans. This paper reads Ishiro Honda’s Matango in the context of atomic era’s visions of environmental disaster and discusses the representation of the mycelium, or the interconnected fungal world, as the opposite of human civilization in post-apocalyptic imaginary, as seen on the example of Matango, with nods to selected recent films like What to Do with the Dead Kaiju (Satoshi Miki, 2022) or In the Earth (Ben Wheatley, 2021).
“It’s not death if you refuse it”: The undead eternal in S.P Somtow’s The Crow: Temple of Night
Created by James O’Barr as a means of dealing with grief and personal loss, The Crow follows in the footsteps of a supernatural superhero risen from the grave to avenge his and his girlfriend’s death. Written in 1999, S.P. Somtow’s novel The Crow: Temple of Night stands out within this franchise by relocating the story to Bangkok, Thailand and reframing it within a non-western context. Created originally as the Undead Avenger, The Crow was a temporal aberration. The Thai Crow, however, is not bound by linear time but is rather conceived of as an existence within a repetitive cycle of births, deaths and rebirths. While he functions as a force of karmic retribution, he is seen as The Eternal One existing within and beyond time. The article argues that while such a radical revisioning of the hero may be seen as a departure from the common theme of the series, it actually brings the novel closer to O’Barr’s original design, where philosophical meditation on the nature of life and death takes precedence over the plot.
Kuroneko and the strange cats of Japanese horror
Kaibyō eiga, or bakemono films form a distinct genre of Japanese horror, which has been in existence since at least the late 1930s. This paper will focus on the most critically acclaimed film from this group, Kuroneko (Yabu no Naka no Kuroneko, 1968) directed by Kaneto Shindo. The film blends the bakeneko folklore with a vengeful ghost (onryō) story. Set in feudal Japan, it tells the tale of a mother and daughter-in-law who, having died at the hands of unruly samurai, vow to bring all samurai to ruin. Their determination is then put to the test when they discover that their son/husband has been granted the samurai title for his bravery during the war. The article will situate the film within the larger kaibyō genre and bakeneko folklore and discuss ‘strange cats’ as unique figures of fear in Japanese horror.
Ghost time: Spectral temporalities in Asian Gothic
This article examines contemporary Asian ghost narratives found in literature, film and television from a temporal perspective. The turbulent history of the region is addressed in texts such as Eka Kurniawan’s novel Beauty is a Wound (2002), which chronicles Indonesian history as a set of disparate hauntings, or a political horror film Detention (Hsu 2019), whose ghosts are the victims of Taiwan’s ‘White Terror’ known for its brutal suppression of dissidents. The collections of short stories by Aoko Matsuda (Where the Wild Ladies Are, 2016) and Verena Tay (Spectre, 2016) offer a feminist reworking of local folklore and supernatural tales known for their largely negative portrayals of female spirits. The article concludes with a brief discussion of contemporary texts engaged with creative reconfigurations of Asian afterlives and the notion of life and death as a continuous journey, as present in Yasutaka Tsustui’s novel Hell (2007), Yu Hua’s The Seventh Day (2013), and Mattie Do’s film The Long Walk (2019).
J is for Jombi:The social concerns of Korean zombies
This article discusses the cultural significance of the jombi, or zombie with unique Korean characteristics, understood as an allegorical monster created for Korean cinema and television. This chapter focuses predominantly on the post-2016 Korean film and television zombie narratives. The article argues that rather than construct the zombie as the antithesis of humans – beings devoid of identity and personhood – Korean zombies are portrayed almost exclusively in relation to home, understood not only as a safe personal space but also as a metaphorical representation of the family and the nation. As non-persons and non-citizens subject to the state of exception, zombies draw our attention to other marginalised groups that get caught in the outbreak and expose systemic prejudices present in today’s Korea. Constructed as figures of empathy and fear, Korean zombies are visceral and terrifying but they are rarely as threatening as humans.
Size matters: Close encounters of the giant kind
This chapter discusses big monsters of cinema as embodiments of cultural fears and anxieties in socio-historical moments of crisis and investigates the didactic potential of human-monster encounters depicted in such films. It argues that while the appearance of the big monster does not disrupt the protagonists’ individual sense of identity, it undermines the very concept of human society or civilisation, forcing them, and by extension the viewers, to reconsider their political alignment and environmental agenda and rethink their place in the universe. The chapter begins with a brief overview of the significance and evolution of big monsters in world cinemas, leading to a more detailed discussion of Godzilla as the centrepoint of the Japanese kaiju-verse.
Monsters, murder and melodrama: The rise of Korean horror television
This chapter focuses on the post-2016 Korean horror series as an example of the streaming-era horror television. A common characteristic of these shows is their preoccupation with monsters, understood as supernatural creatures or monstrous humans. The monster trope in Korean horror television is mobilised to address a variety of troubling socio-cultural and political issues – from authoritarianism and ineffective government, through corruption, income inequality, and the rise of religious cults, to gender discrimination and school bullying. The monster theme also distinguishes Korean horror television from films, which tend to privilege vengeful ghosts. The chapter offers a brief survey of the notable horror trends in Korean drama – from monster apocalypse/survival to supernatural procedurals and violent serial killer narratives – and discusses the medium-specific characteristics of Korean horror series – their bingeable format, genre hybridity, and their inextricable connection to melodrama.
Japanese zombies
This article provides a brief survey of the most notable Japanese zombie films to date. It examines the experimental nature of Japanese zombie productions – from the fragmented narrative structures of Wild Zero, Stacy: Attack of the Schoolgirl Zombies, and The Happiness of the Katakuris, to the poetic metaphors of Tokyo Zombie and Miss Zombie, and the one-take meta-narrative of One Cut of the Dead – and argues that the combination of low-budget production with formal experimentation has contributed to the cult status of these films. The article pays attention to the localization of zombie narratives in Japan, discussing the unique themes within the movies, their dialogic engagement with kawaii culture, and their connection to the cinematic heritage of violent yakuza and chanbara films. In the final section, it focuses on two recent large-budget productions, I Am A Hero and Zom 100: Bucket List of the Dead, as examples of Japanese national (and nationalist) cinema.
They are all around us: The Folk Horror turn in Thai cinema
This paper discusses a number of recent Thai films, including The Medium/Rang Song (Pisanthanakun, 2021), Hoon Payon (Chotkijsadarsopon, 2023), Home for Rent/Ban Chao… Buchayan (Sakdaphisit, 2023), Reside/Singsu (Sasanatieng, 2018) and Death Whisperer/Tee Yod (Wantha, 2023). Drawing on the excellent work of Dawn Keetley (2023) on folk horror and folk Gothic, the paper situates these Thai films on a spectrum between the two and argues that the group can be seen as a coherent subset among Thai horror productions. One characteristic feature of the said films is their replacement of the usual Buddhist framework with the animist one. Rather than tell the stories where vengeful ghosts appear as forces of karmic retribution, these new productions privilege animist spirits – a variety of diverse entities seen as amoral, atemporal and associated with the forces of nature – and are often about possession. This choice, however, implies the impossibility of the resolution of their narratives as animist spirits remain largely indifferent to the human efforts to subdue or exorcise them.