On one level, Hideo Nakata's follow up to Ringu, Dark Water ("Honogurai mizu no soko kara") is a conventional, supernatural horror/ghost story. On another, more reflective level, Dark Water is a meditation on mourning, regret, and the fear of abandonment, as well as an exploration of the inability to integrate childhood traumas into our adult selves without, in turn, duplicating those same traumas in our own children. The ghosts that inhabit Dark Water exist metaphorically and literally, lingering in the memories of an unhappy childhood and in the darkened corners of an empty, water-soaked apartment building.
Yoshimi Matsubara (Hitomi Kuroki), the central character in Dark Water, is in the middle of a custody hearing for her six-year old daughter, Ikuto (Rio Kanno); she must also cope with strained financial resources (her ex-husband apparently doesn't pay alimony and seems to contribute little to his daughter's welfare). Her strained financial circumstances compel her to accept a modest apartment in a semi-abandoned, decrepit building (the other tenants are apparently missing in action, except two old women who keep the manager company on the ground floor). The abandoned building, however, also seems to reflect her increasingly tenuous frame of mind.
As Yoshimi attempts to have the custody battle resolved in her favor, as well as obtain and hold down a job, she becomes gradually unnerved by a growing water stain over her bed, a red satchel bag that continually reappears in the apartment building, and half-glimpses of a girl in a yellow raincoat in the hallways and rooftop of the apartment building. As the supernatural force behind the odd disturbances and ceiling stain begins to adversely affect her young daughter's health, Yoshimi finds herself reliving childhood memories of her own mother, who apparently abandoned her. A flashback to Yoshimi's youth reveals her waiting for her mother's arrival (which never comes). This recurring flashback creates an almost too perfect symmetry between Yoshimi, her daughter, Ikuto, who, under one interpretation, is a mirror image of Yoshimi's younger self, and the ghost child, who may or may not be a psychological projection of Yoshimi's own internal fears and anxieties. Compelled to remain in the building despite her better judgment (leaving means compromising her custody claim), Yoshimi ultimately finds herself drawn into uncovering the identity of the ghost child (as well as what the ghost wants, a question asked and answered at the climax of the film).
As in Ringu, Hideo Nakata prefers a "slow-burn" approach to supernatural horror, gradually emphasizing the deteriorating psychological state of the main character (interspersed with moments of "false" hope), while concurrently increasing the magnitude of the ghostly occurrences. From a technical perspective, use of visual cues and objects within the frame is unparalleled. Nakata prefers the stillness of a shot, rarely moving the camera, so when he does, it dramatically heightens tension, from the out-of-focus ghost child, lingering out of reach, almost erased from memory, to the bright dab of a yellow raincoat, to the palpable presence of water in almost every shot (the constantly pouring rain, the water congealing and dripping from the ceiling, a river that wends its way near the apartment complex, the flooded hallways, an overflowing bathtub, contaminated drinking water). Here, water is almost supernaturally charged, signaling the presence of a potentially malevolent force.
Audiences, however, may find far too many similarities with Ringu. In both films, a female protagonist, a single mother, encounters a supernatural force. In both films, the protagonist must discover the identity of the uninvited visitor, uncover the source of the ghost's appearance and malevolent behavior and, hopefully, find the solution that frees the protagonist from the curse or influence of the ghost. Where Ringu is externally driven, by a cruel, supernatural deadline (i.e., anyone who views the cursed videotape is doomed to die violently in seven days), Dark Water is driven by an internal, reflective process. In other words, in Ringu, the protagonist, also a single mother (some will argue the similarities between the two films are sufficient to diminish the experience of enjoying Dark Water), is far more active, literally moving from one location to another, uncovering the vital clues necessary to remove the curse. In Dark Water, the protagonist's choices are always defensive and reactive, the conflict partially internalized, and her investigation literally limited to one location, the semi-abandoned apartment building.
Dark Water, however, suffers from one major problem, one that almost derails the film. Hideo Nakata and his screenwriter chose to append an unnecessary epilogue. In the epilogue, the function of the protagonist switches from the mother to the daughter, now sixteen. In Dark Water, Yoshimi’s final decision means that the narrative has come to a natural end. Shifting the plot from the mother to the daughter at sixteen (ten years after the events presented in the film) violates the Aristotelian unities of plot, time, and space; it also provides redundant exposition and information. As an alternative, Dark Water could be understood as an extended flashback, an attempt, perhaps, by the daughter to explain the mother's erratic behavior. Unfortunately, Nakata fails to provide the audience with the visual cues or the narrative structure necessary to suggest this interpretation as a viable alternative. The addition of a prologue to bookend the epilogue would have likely resolved this problem. If anything, the epilogue serves a non-narrative purpose here: Nakata and his producers were likely unsure as to whether mainstream audiences would have understood the film without an additional, exposition-heavy scene to revisit the ending with a second explanation.
© Mel Valentin, 10th May, 2004
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