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Though I’ve never played the game which EXIT 8 is based on, I have been lost in a subway station before, so I feel comfortable saying the film is an accurate representation of that experience. There is a familiar horror to the indistinguishable, winding hallways and ever-buzzing fluorescent lights. And though I was ultimately going in circles, EXIT 8’s biggest accomplishment is finding direction, taking the puzzle box mechanics of the video game and translating them into a human story, with purpose and intention.
Based on the game of almost the same name and directed by Genki Kawamura, EXIT 8stars Kazunari Ninomiya as a man who becomes lost on his morning commute, stranded in a labyrinth of subway corridors. His only chance at escape is to find the elusive and titular EXIT 8, by correctly identifying and avoiding hallways containing “anomalies” as they pop up. All he needs is 8 consecutive correct guesses to be free, although enough failure could mean being trapped in the maze forever. It’s a faithful recreation of the original’s gameplay loop, which essentially boils down to an elaborate version of “spot the difference.”
Once the rules are laid out, it’s easy to get accustomed to the pace of the movie’s problem-solving. From the moment the protagonist enters a new hallway, he rhythmically counts the various environmental details, and anomalies quickly make themselves known. I found myself playing along and scanning the background for details, which made it particularly affecting whenever the protagonist overlooked something small and inadvertently reset his progress. On the other hand, the more elaborate anomalies wound up feeling somewhat toothless, given that they’re easily spotted and even more easily thwarted, simply by turning the corner.
The subtle star of the film is the set design, an impressive feat given how limited and brutalist the subway corridors actually are. The little variable details are simple and distinct, easily memorizable and disturbingly uncanny when affected by an anomaly. There’s a particular effect early on, when the station gradually blends from the cramped and grody real world into the stark white void of the labyrinth, which is decidedly a highlight of the film.
Given the limited number of sets that the premise actually affords, there’s a quickly building sense of restlessness. Cinematographer Keisuke Imamura brilliantly captures this feeling by shooting in a series of deliberately pacing long shots, with the camera following the tempo of the protagonist’s footsteps as he weaves his way through the room. This wandering style ironically brings out the restrictiveness of the environment, though as it went on I found myself longing for a breath of fresh air which never quite came.

New for the adaptation is the running theme of fatherhood, with Ninomiya’s lost man stuck between continuing his banal life, and the opportunity to step up and be a dad. The anomalies the maze throws at him tease out his potential failings, and ultimately test whether or not he is worthy of caring for a child. Though this thematic addition is a departure from the source material, just about the biggest change in the whole film, it’s a welcome one, especially given that the alternative is an hour and a half of empty hallways. Instead, the dull, everyday imagery of the game is recast as a form of absence, indicative of a life without purpose. That purpose, the exit to the proverbial rat race, comes from dedication to something greater than one’s self.
Kazunari Ninomiya brings a tremendous heart and relatability to his nameless would-bedad, whose biggest obstacle is his own hesitation. Before he becomes stuck in the subway, the lost man chooses to turn a blind eye to a mother and her baby being accosted by an angry man, a decision which grimly parallels his own absentee father. Ninomiya sells the fear surrounding his looming responsibility well, as his washed-up main character really does appear to be unfit for the task. When he finally does step up and reveals his fatherly potential, it’s heartwarming to see.

Although, the standout performance easily goes to Yamato Kochi as “The Walking Man”, a seemingly soulless aspect of the maze, manifested as an uncannily average commuter, with a smile that seems just a little too wide for his face. In the game, this character is an NPC, and Kochi does a spectacular job at capturing that “nothing behind the eyes” feeling. He does get to be more emotive in a flashback sequence which reveals his origin but smartly steers away from answering too many questions.
If what you’re looking for is a recreation of the feeling of playing the video game, then EXIT 8 delivers that in spades, but its real strength comes in how it deepens the surrounding narrative. While the style and setting do eventually begin to grow a little stale, EXIT 8 ultimately triumphs in turning a short, simple premise into something with a heart. It’s a bright new path for Horror Video Game adaptation, though it remains to be seen whether others will be able to follow in its footsteps.
About Professor Horror
At Professor Horror, we don't just watch horror: we live it, study it, and celebrate it. Run by writers, critics, and scholars who've made horror both a passion and a career, our mission is to explore the genre in all its bloody brillance. From big-budget slashers to underground gems, foreign nightmares to literary terrors, we dig into what makes horror tick (and why it sticks with us). We believe horror is more than just entertainment; it's a mirror, a confession, and a survival story. And we care deeply about the people who make it, love it, and keep it alive.