Dark Water

Fans of Hideo Nakata’s Ring films will be deeply satisfied by this new release. It shares many of its predecessors’ characteristics. In fact the sheer number of motifs and ideas that Nakata resurrects here are on a par with Hitchcock’s work. Water, divorce, doomed children and vengeful ghosts in need of a hug could be seen as Nakata’s stock in trade. The really exciting thing about Dark Water is how well Nakata rejigs these elements to make such a fresh, effective chiller. In this respect the Hitchcock comparisons stands tall as Hitch could regurgitate his own obsessions and starting points into original entertainments time and time again, thus allowing him to explore his recurrent themes while creating a brand of cinema that was purely his own. In this respect Hitchcock was the definition of an auteur, as is Nakata. This visual and thematic repetition also manifests itself to an inventive storytelling method within the film.

The frames and incidents of Hideo Nakata films are filled with repetition, similarities and parallels. By forming a rhythmic language of red bags, taxis, droplets and children he creates a world where the overbearing repetitiveness is both the equilibrium and disruption. A CCTV shot of mother and daughter ascending in a lift is shown again and again despite the story moving off in different directions. The subtle changes of shots we have encountered before inspires unease in the audience for what we expect is altered or uncannily the same. The invincibility of such objects and images causes the viewer to relate foreboding with the everyday. When a signifier like the red bag manages to move from scene to scene unaided it imposes omnipresent doom on even the most homely set ups.

The impact this image language has on Nakata’s storytelling abilities is symbiotic. By setting up a board game of settings and icons, he can give the audience complex amounts of information in a matter of seconds. The actual explanation for the events in the apartment building (and the way this disruption is resolved) is expressed somewhat remarkably with a minimum of words. No expositions. The dialogue that takes up the film’s opening acts is there to set up questions. The estranged husband’s excessive extinguishing of his cigarettes alludes to a previous physical abuse and perhaps a current mental one of the female leads. Could these suggestions connect him as an unseen influence in the protagonist’s current predicament? Nakata equally offers up other suspects and possibilities so even the most helpful of characters appear to have sinister motives. This evolves the logic puzzle structure further, making the audience constantly interrogate characters and images for motive and meaning. By the time we start to resolve the mysteries that have scared us, the film forces it random element into a context that is as touching as it is unsettling.