Directed by: Kiyoshi Kurosawa
Starring: Takeru Satoh, Nana Komatsu, Hiroshi Abe, and Rinko Kikuchi
Kaidan (2025) marks a chilling return to traditional Japanese ghost storytelling, with master director Kiyoshi Kurosawa (Pulse, Cure) once again demonstrating his command over atmospheric horror. With its title evoking the classical tradition of Japanese ghost tales (怪談), Kaidan blends folklore, psychological tension, and spiritual dread into a slow-burning and beautifully haunting cinematic experience.
Set in rural Japan during the early 20th century, the story follows Takashi (Takeru Satoh), a stoic schoolteacher who moves to a remote village to take care of his ailing father. There, he becomes intrigued by a mysterious woman named Yuki (Nana Komatsu), whose beauty and sadness captivate him. But strange occurrences begin to unfold: eerie sounds at night, shadowy figures in mirrors, and villagers whispering of a long-forgotten curse tied to Yuki’s family. As Takashi’s grip on reality begins to fray, he uncovers a tragic past filled with betrayal, vengeance, and restless spirits.
Takeru Satoh delivers a restrained, nuanced performance as a man torn between rationality and belief. His transformation from skeptic to haunted victim is convincing and emotionally powerful. Nana Komatsu is mesmerizing as Yuki, imbuing the character with a tragic elegance that lingers long after the credits roll. Supporting performances by Hiroshi Abe and Rinko Kikuchi add gravitas and mystery to the village’s eerie ensemble.
Visually, Kaidan is a masterclass in atmosphere. Kurosawa relies on long takes, dim lighting, and minimalist sound design to build unease. Rather than relying on jump scares or gore, the film’s horror is rooted in suggestion, silence, and slow, deliberate pacing. Cinematographer Akiko Ashizawa captures the fog-draped forests, decaying interiors, and flickering candlelight with a painter’s eye — every frame feels like a ghost story waiting to be told.
While some viewers may find the film’s pace too slow or its narrative too ambiguous, Kaidan embraces its traditional roots unapologetically. Its focus is not on fast shocks but on psychological erosion, generational trauma, and the idea that the past never truly stays buried. The final act, filled with quiet dread and tragic revelations, is both emotionally resonant and spiritually unsettling.
Kaidan (2025) is a return to the poetic horror that made Japanese ghost stories iconic. With its haunting imagery, elegant performances, and deep respect for folklore, it is not just a horror film — it’s a meditation on memory, guilt, and the spirits we carry with us.
