Loft

No living director anywhere can build creeping, gnawing, raw nerve anticipatory tension like Kurosawa. Aside from that? Well, it's a mixed bag. His new film, English title "Loft", twists slowly on your skin early on, digging deeper and deeper. And then it sort of just stops. The shallow breathed fear that he creates, having you flinch at every movement in delicious tension (What's that! Oh, it's a TV. Wait! What's THAT! Oh, just a shadow) is unique. His mastery of composition in the frame, of scene, setting, character movement, sound, are unparalleled. And in this he sets himself up. There would have to be one hell of a harrowing finale to bring it all to a satisfying conclusion. As it is, "Loft" creeps up on you, hypnotizing you in fear; and then it just waits a while, and creeps back away. Not to say that the (lengthy) conclusion is poor, in any other movie it would be great. He twists several cliché horror staples in unique ways, and even finds some delirious humor. But it just doesn't work well enough. You almost feel the plot stumble and come close to falling. Kurosawa's brilliance with horror is that he does not scare you with sudden movements, grotesque images and stunts. He creates dread, primal and powerful. His horror slowly leans over your shoulder until it stares you in the eye. Unfortunately, in "Loft", the audience wins the staring contest.