Not that Chime is your typical theatrical release in the first place. At an economical 45 minutes, Chime is both a succinct introduction to Kurosawa’s style and a quiet horror film in its own right that methodically builds dread with just about every scene. Chime follows a cooking instructor named Matsuoka (Mutsuo Yoshioka) who aspires to leave teaching behind to become a chef at a restaurant. In the middle of a busy class, one student, Tashiro (Seiichi Kohinata), stands out—but not in a good way. He’s standing apart from his classmates, rebuffs Matsuoka’s feedback, and tells his teacher about the chime he hears but no one else can. After Tashiro kills himself in class, Matsuoka is left shaken, and the fabric of his life begins coming apart. People around him start acting uncontrollably, until finally he does as well. Perhaps he’s hearing the chime now.
Chime shares many stylistic connections with Kurosawa’s earlier films, like the concept of a social psychosis that’s spread like a virus, a muted color palette, sound design that enhances the viewer’s sense of foreboding, and restrained performances that unravel over the course of the film’s many twists and turns. For decades, the director has thrilled audiences with his unique approach to horror movies, pensive dramas, and suspenseful films including recent hits like Before We Vanish, To The Ends Of The Earth, and Cloud. After breaking out with his 1997 psychological murder-mystery Cure, he tapped into a kind of suspenseful horror that doesn’t feel over-the-top or excessive yet still capable of shock and violence. He utilizes subtle hints that things are amiss, like changing an actor’s body language or dropping out the audio, disrupting the routine of daily life to unleash the violence that lives underneath the surface of an ordered, busy world.
Chime‘s companion feature, Kurosawa’s 1998 film Serpent’s Path showcases the director’s foray into other genres, this time a violent yakuza revenge story. In 2024, he remade Serpent’s Path in French, but the new restoration of the original Japanese version brings audiences back to seedy warehouses, grim interrogation scenes, desperate pleas for forgiveness, and one haunted soul out for revenge. It’s utterly grimy compared to the sleekness of Chime, which isn’t about a world of violence but about how violence can seep into everyday life—fitting for a film that will, as Janus Films has announced, only ever play for live audiences in the theater.
Returning a horror movie to the communal experience of the big screen gives it fresh blood, and it’s certainly a very different way of appreciating the work than in its NFT origins. You won’t have long to enjoy this double bill of Kurosawa’s work, and in the case of Chime, it’s the only way to catch Kurosawa return to the kind of psychological thriller storytelling that introduced his films to the larger world.
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