Toshiharu Ikeda, the famed director of Evil Dead Trap, offers two delightfully fun, and surprisingly terrifying, vignettes that unabashedly wear the label of horror for horror’s sake. While avoiding the J-horror cliché of an congested plotline, though not bothering to validate the phenomena contained within, his double-feature gladly sets the agenda of horrific fun and, fortunately, meets its goal by film’s end.

Two brothers find themselves in dilemmas as the younger of the set, Ryoji (Kôji Matsuo), begins to be stalked by a strange girl named Asaji (Asumi Miwa), who is frequently spotted in two places at the same time. Later, when the Nakada family moves into the same apartment complex as the older sister to the two brothers, Ryoji’s older brother, Kazuhik (Yûichi Matsuo), befriends the daughter of the displaced family, Naoko (Hitomi Miwa), who was forced to relocate for fear that a mortal plague that was gradually descending upon her neighborhood was placing her life in mortal jeopardy.

In the tradition of Alfred Hitchcock, Alfred Hitchcock Junior (a.k.a. Brian De Palma), and David Lynch, Ikeda opens with a tale of deadly obsession with a doppelganger twist. Shadow of the Wraith, the titular chapter of the two-part feature, though it may not go to great efforts to quantify itself by its final frame, is nonetheless enjoyable in its narrative frugality atop its cinematic fluidity.

Though of no inherent value, while doing us the curtsey of not pretending to be the Emperor’s new clothes, Shadow of the Wraith is elegant in its simplicity, especially when one considers that it falls within the parameters of a subgenre which is fraught with unnecessarily convoluted tales. This is not to imply that the paradox of the doppelganger is sufficiently and satisfactorily resolved in Part One, but Ikeda doesn’t place the weight of his feature on the fact that such exists. Instead, he is merely happy to have a narrative to disclose and proceeds to do so with refreshing efficiency as he varies his visuals with the occasional sequence shot through a gel as the motif of water, which is associated with the malicious Asaji, lends an ominous tone while the Tubular Bells-esque soundtrack further adds to the aura.

The second half of Ikeda’s feature, titled “The Hollow Stone,” is equally gratuitous. Some might initially cite the segment as exploitative for it can easily be called derivative at best when placed alongside Takashi Shimizu’s Ju-on. However, unlike most films which are created in an attempt to capitalize upon, and ride the coattails of, the latest cinematic fade or craze, Ikeda makes sure that his viewer is aware that he is having fun at his forerunner’s expense. What’s more, he permits his audience to share in the joy. For example, whereas one of Shimizu’s primary agendas is to scare his audience, his successor posits his homage in an undeniably campy vein. In much the same manner as Sam Raimi, a finger is kept upon the pulse of good-natured fright as the interaction between the members of Naoko’s family is lighthearted throughout, lending a sense of authenticity and, as a consequence, creates a large degree of sympathy for the characters.

This is not to say that the second installment in Ikeda’s work is overtly flippant. Cleverly, the filmmaker posits such with a purpose. The director coyly plays with his audience as he lures them into his confidence in order to viciously pounce upon them with ready sequences which leaves one genuinely unnerved. Furthermore, Tomohiko Kira and Daisuke Hayashi are both equally responsible for the unexpected effectiveness of the eerie “The Hollow Stone” for their work upon the sound and soundtrack, in many respects, almost single-handedly makes the film.

Though not electrifyingly original, Toshiharu Ikeda’s Shadow of Wraith is reassuringly consistent and surprisingly pleasant due, in part, to the viewer realizing early on that no new ground is going to be broken and that nothing of consequence is passing before one’s eyes. Unlike many Japanese horror outings which attempt to do too much with too much, the economy of both stories–alongside their revitalizing digestibility–allows Ikeda to sneak up on his audience as he subsequently delivers a truly entertaining slab of escapist Eastern terror.

-Egregious Gurnow