‘Village Of Eight Gravestones’ review: ‘Ju-on: The Grudge’ director Takashi Shimizu deftly adapts the 1940s Japanese detective novel

Dir: Takashi Shimizu. Japan. 2026. 117mins

You really can’t go home again – at least not if you find yourself the last patriarch in a family line cursed to suffer through generations and commit hideous murders in small town Japan. That’s the legacy a young Tokyo man has to wrestle with when he returns to his tiny Okayama prefecture home in Takashi Shimizu’s Village of Eight Gravestones, the latest adaptation from Seishi Yokomizo’s venerable post-war detective series featuring gumshoe Kosuke Kindaichi. Making its world premiere in Fantasia’s Horizon strand, Eight Gravestones benefits from timeless themes pivoting on destiny, choice and consequences, tucked inside a compelling mystery that spans centuries and genres.

A compelling mystery that spans centuries and genres

Shimizu is playing in a familiar and comfortable sandbox here, the one he’s been in since his 2001 breakout at home, Tomie: Rebirth, and since gaining international traction in 2002 with Ju-on: The Grudge and the subsequent Hollywood remakes. With the exception of a live action version of Kiki’s Delivery Service (2014) Shimizu has, throughout his career, cleaved closely to horror-thriller and its cursed spaces, karma and personal reckonings – and here he throws in social expectations to conform for good measure.

This isn’t the first interpretation of Yokomizo’s 1949 book: Yoshitaro Nomura directed it for the screen in 1977, and Kon Ichikawa tackled the story in 1996. Given its pedigree, Village Of Eight Gravestones should be a hit at home when it opens in September thanks to the additional perks of Shimizu’s name above the title, broad fondness for the source material and the perpetual popularity of inshu-mura, the sub-genre within Japanese horror cinema defined by its isolated village settings and folk horror foundations.

Similar success should be found in much of Asia, and following its bow at Fantasia the film is likely to find a place at similar festivals worldwide. It shoul also attract distributors with experience positioning Shimizu’s past films, as well as those who found audiences for Wregas Bhanuteja’s Indonesian folk horror Levitating or Jang Jae-hyun’s Exhuma, which is steeped in South Korean shamanism. Streaming platforms should also follow.

The Eight Gravestones saga begins with an unknown woman possibly having a vision of an inferno before switching focus to Tatsuya Igawa (young television star Tomoya Oku), an unemployed 20-something getting yet another job rejection in Tokyo. It turns out the woman having a vision was his estranged mother Tsuruko, and Tatsuya is soon informed by police that she committed suicide in her hometown just days before. Off Tatsuya heads to Okayama prefecture and the tiny hamlet of Eight Gravestones Village – as does PI Kosuke Kindaichi (Matsuya Onoe, Don’t Call It Mystery) who has been tasked with locating Tatsuya by the Tajimi Clan.

Tatsuya is the son of a previous Tajimi patriarch and his mistress, and is now the last of the family by whose fortunes the town lives or dies. Enigmatic widow Miyako Mori (Mayu Hotta) hired Kindaichi at the behest of eldest Tajimi son Hisaya (Kenichi Takitoh) and twin Aunties Kotake and Koume (Reiko Takashima). They need a new patriarch to carry on the Tajimi name, as Hisaya is dying. To make matters worse, Hisaya and Tatsuya’s missing father Yozo (also Takitoh) is a known murderer and, when Tatsuya shows up in town, the killing begin again.

Like most good Kindaichi mysteries there is more going on than appears on the surface, and it’s up to the detective and his analytical mind to uncover the truth. And as with most mysteries, there are bitter family members who resent the sudden appearance of the ’love child’; a shady family doctor; the so-called town crazy who rages on and on about curses; and some overprotective artistic youths who claim they’re just looking out for the best interests of the town.

Shimizu and first-time co-writer Shintaro Ogai weave supernatural, folklore and Shinto elements amid Kindaichi’s requisite snooping and, in doing so, explore contemporary themes of how we cast blame on those who are outsiders or otherwise “different”, and the superstitions that absolve us of responsibility for our actions. Ancient adversaries – played with period gusto by Kiyohiko Shibukawa and Masanobu Takashima – started the curse, which the Eight Gravestones villagers use as a crutch for their exclusionary, paranoid zero sum game. The current residents lean on the retrograde beliefs that resulted from it as an excuse for stagnation and blind acceptance of the world as it is.

Because of its extensive location shooting in historic Fukiya and at the 19th century Hirokane Residence (now a museum) Village Of Eight Gravestones has an ideal, quietly menacing aesthetic. Shimizu is adept at exploiting dark corners, negative space, shadowy movements and the horror of what we don’t see; he and cinematographer Yasushi Ouchi inject enough mood and mystery into the visuals to connect past and present and keep the audience guessing as to the mystery of the fresh murders. While his language isn’t quite as elegant as Ichikawa’s (few are), Shimizu’s assured direction rests both the story’s folklore and its detective fiction on a satisfying, modern note.