Is Kairo (2001) Still Relevant Today?

Is Kairo (2001) Still Relevant Today?

Written by Kurnia Cahya Putra

A couple of nights ago I watched Kiyoshi Kurosawa's Kairo (2001) for the first time with my boyfriend who LOVES this movie so much. Like, love-love. Like, if Kairo is personified, he'd probably leave me for it. Set at the dawn of the millennium (that's accurate for 2001, right?)--or maybe of the internet, Kairo tells the story of ghosts overspilling into our realm through the internet. It's somber, it's bleak, and it's nihilistic. Most importantly, it's relevant--although, its relevancy only counts depending on how you see the movie itself.

One part of consuming an art is finding out about its background: what time it came out and what happened during that time a.k.a. giving contextual meaning to it that contributes to the richness of your experience. Kairo came out when the internet was way different than what it is now. There was no social media, public's attitude towards self-expression was different, it wasn't available at our fingertips, etc. What it was, though, I can say, it was relatively new--when it just reached the lower-class after it had been a privilege for the high or middle-class. So, it was right when everyone started using it. Because of this, I can imagine that there was a little fear of what it could be due to the unknown limit of its power.

From what I've seen, I think this is what Kurosawa was trying to capture. When it comes down to it, what I took away from it the most, if I can string it in just one sentence (even though it's practically impossible cause yes, it is a rich film (do forgive me for overusing the word "rich" in this article)), it would be like this: "Kairo is expressing the irony that now (or in 2001) we actually have the tool to connect with each other all the time without having to meet directly, a.k.a. the internet, we actually feel even more lonely--the more we use it, the lonelier it gets."

This hypothesis of mine, or what I imagine Kurosawa's hypothesis would be, is supported by numerous elements, but none clearer than the scene in which our main male character, Ryosuke (Haruhiko Kato) visits his computer science student friend Harue (Koyuki) in her empty class and finds a screen with dots flying around like a screensaver. Ryosuke asks her what it is, and Harue explains that it's a program made by senior students where two dots will separate themselves if they get too close but attract each other if they get far away. Other less subtle supporting evidences appear in the story itself--or at least how I interpreted it.

Michi (Kumiko Aso) visits Taguchi, her absent co-worker, at his apartment. He seems fine and functional, but he commits suicide right then and there. After that, Yabe (Masatoshi Matsuo), Michi's other co-worker, receives a phone call which sounds like Taguchi's voice saying "Help me.", so he visits Taguchi's apartment where he eventually sees a ghost. After that, Yabe becomes depressed. Not long until we realize that there's a phenomenon going on around the world where people feel extreme loneliness to an extreme fate until Japan becomes practically empty in the 3rd act, and Michi has to get off the island to escape.

There are basically two outcomes for the people affected by this phenomenon: either they commit suicide or they become this black stain on the wall--like they disappear into it (or nothingness)--when the depression overwhelm them too much. I concluded that the ones who commit suicide do so because they saw the video of other people who did the same on the internet, whereas those who succumb to the black stain go out the way they do because they encountered the ghost.

There's a scene in which Harue watches a video of a guy with a plastic bag over his head. He takes it off and shoots himself in the head. Right after, her screen shows what appears to be her room, right at that moment, as if there were a camera recording her from behind. In a suspenseful beat, Harue turns around and approaches the "camera". We, as the audience, see that there's nothing there, but Harue embraces said camera, saying, "I am not alone, after all." Later in the movie, Harue reenacts the video she saw and shoots herself.

(The scene I mentioned is at 5:35)

I believe that everyone is affected by the phenomenon to some extent unless they're perfectly content with their lives like our main character Michi (which I think the fact that she's almost the only unaffected person in Japan says something), but those who actually encountered the ghost will experience loneliness so severe they disappear into nothingness (Yabe, Junko (Kurume Arisaka), etc.), whereas those who are so lucky they didn't will be able to try to find that connection to fight that loneliness in suicide. That sounds extremely nihilistic, but that's the theory I pulled out of this movie, that's what I believe what this movie is trying to say.

Is that relevant in today's age, though? Does the internet really become what this movie fears to be? Do we get lonelier with it? Do we not really connect with each other because of it? I don't necessarily think so. Kairo's fear of the internet stems from the lack of control, how we can't escape the virtual reality it created when what we actually need is the physical reality. That's about it, though. We will always need that physical reality. We will always crave a human touch, a human direct-ness?--that I believe we actually made that virtual reality our bitch. I believe that instead of losing control, we gained too much of it in terms of how we use the internet. We can put out whatever we want--who we are there, what we say or do there--without so much of a fear of repercussion cause there's that illusion of a layer. We don't need to feel bad about anything because it's not real, it doesn't count the way real life counts. Of course, there isn't only negative sides to it. After all, this layer of protection gives voice to the oftentimes voiceless, but that's a conversation for another wholesome movie, right?

We actually have evolved again in this regard, anyway. We've come to a time where we're taking accountability to what we say on the internet. We call people out, we ask for responsibility, we're trying our best to make the internet as safe of a place as possible (cause humans can be great, too, sometimes). It's not a done process, it still has a long way, but regardless, it has changed. The internet has changed. From 2001 until now, which is 20 years (WHOA IS IT REALLY?--sorry, I literally got sidetracked here), a lot has changed. It's impressive how much has changed, really, looking in retrospect.

With that being said, with my interpretation of the movie, Kairo has become timely (does that mean the same as "of its time"? Because that's what I meant). A horror movie of nowadays' technology isn't about it separating us, but our over-ability to control it to our whim, and when that control is given to the wrong people (and how easily we can be "the wrong people" as well). Although, that one is called Black Mirror--which, as time goes on, gets more and more relevant.

My interpretation and conclusion do not negate the masterpiece form of work that Kurosawa has brought, though because in terms of scariness, there's an element that is timeless and always relevant: no matter where you go, you will always have loneliness within you. Loneliness is inescapable, loneliness is eternal. When you think about it, we will never get an unlimited true interpersonal connection because each of us is made up of different things, don't we? What if that lack of relatability materialized as a ghost the way our uniqueness like inability to be good-looking, smart, etc. materialized and ask to, "Help me," but it can't do anything for itself? It's scary, isn't it?