THE STORY – A medium travels deep into the Japanese countryside to perform a routine exorcism, forced to confront the most terrifying enemy of all: the living.
THE CAST – Moeka Hoshi, Kento Kaku, Kurumi Inagaki, Mutsuo Yoshioka, Bokuzo Masana & Tae Kimura
THE TEAM – Dave Boyle (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 105 Minutes
From its opening frame, featuring a bloody axe resting on a weathered wooden floor, “Never After Dark” makes a grim promise of atmosphere. The “House of Ninjas” creator, Dave Boyle, doesn’t rush his first horror film. As a writer-director, he stays away from the mainstream race to the next jump scare. Instead, he guides the viewer through a dim, long, narrow hallway to the piercing of the veil between life and death, where the only sound is the distinct, unsettling sizzle of a burning candle. He establishes dread before a single word is spoken.
The film follows Airi (Moeka Hoshi, in a commanding performance following her breakout in “Shōgun“), a wandering medium who travels the Japanese countryside guiding restless spirits out of our world. As she drives a backwoods road, she speaks to a child in the car. It is only later that we realize that Airi is the only one who can see her. In a unique departure from typical “ghostly” cinematography, this child, Airi’s sister (played by Kurumi Inagaki), is only ever visible in reflections: the rear-view mirror, the car glass, or the black void of a dormant television. This separation keeps her presence ethereal rather than physical, a silent companion in a solitary life. But the film could have benefited from more flashbacks to bridge the emotional distance between the two sisters, making the final moments feel more emotional.
Airi is driving to her latest job, which takes her to an isolated country house, a former hotel that carries the unmistakable, foreboding energy of the Overlook. Flanked by creepy stone sculptures, the home is inhabited by Teiko (Tae Kimura) and her skeptical son, Gunji (Kento Kaku). While Gunji dismisses Airi as a “traveling ghostbuster” looking to scam his mother, Teiko is desperate to prove the home has dark secrets in its bones.
The technical artistry here is formidable. The film utilizes practical lighting techniques to transition from day to night, creating hypnotic, drowsy imagery that pulls the viewer into Airi’s rituals. The sound design is equally jarring: the lingering gurgling in the darkness and the sudden, rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock that only tells time when it wants to build a sense of anxiety that replaces the need for cheap jump scares.
However, the film’s greatest strength is also its most significant hurdle: the pace. “Never After Dark” is an exceptionally slow burn. At times, the momentum stalls, particularly during a sequence where a drunk Airi dances alone; it’s a moment that feels strangely upbeat and out of place given the film’s somber tone.
As Airi digs into the hotel’s past, the veil is pierced in a dangerous way. Airi’s sister describes the grotesque apparition inhabiting the home as “not normal,” but the film’s true revelation is that the most unpredictable force is human. Airi’s admission that she is “more scared of the living” proves prophetic as the past and present collide in a violent, overwhelming flash. For those who can endure the stillness, the film finds a unique footing as the haunting begins to blur the worlds of the living and the dead, leaving an almost nonexistent separation.
While not perfect, “Never After Dark” serves as a testament to how familiar tropes can be twisted into something that feels entirely fresh. Its primary hurdles, a sluggish pace and a few tonal inconsistencies, are ultimately overshadowed by its commitment to taking a bloody swing rather than your typical ghost story. By pivoting from a traditional ghost story into a tense mystery in which the living pose the greatest threat, the film builds enough intrigue to justify its deliberate pace.
