The film opens with Yoshie Suzuki (Masami Nagasawa), who leaves her five-year-old daughter, Mei, playing hide-and-seek with friends at their house while she quickly pops out to the shops for snacks. When she returns, there is nobody in the house; the other children have gone home and Mei is missing. The neighbouring mums all get together to search for her, but she is nowhere to be found until Yoshie, having given up for the day, finds her in the washing machine, where she has suffocated.
We leap a year forward, and Yoshie is in therapy for grief and loss. She cannot contain her feelings and pours out her emotion to her self-help group members and therapists. She seems to be beyond recovery: on medication and a fragile mess. Her husband, Tadahiko (Koji Seto), a nurse, copes by throwing himself entirely into his work, leaving Yoshie isolated.
One afternoon at an antique market, Yoshie spots a beautiful, life-sized antique doll that bears an uncanny resemblance to Mei. She buys it instantly. Back home, Yoshie begins engaging in what is known as "doll therapy" - but to an extreme, unsettling degree. She bathes the doll, cooks meals for it, buckles it into a pram for shopping trips and even poses with it for family photos.
It is worth seeing her husband's reaction the first time he spots it sitting at the dinner table, with Yoshie suddenly happy again. He leaps out of his skin, comically - it is worth tracking the film down just for that bit! I was clutching my sides! Anyway, the therapists tell him to play along with her, suggesting that she will, eventually, get past it and return to normal life. So he does. And the therapy seems to work. Yoshie's mental health stabilises and, shortly after, she becomes pregnant again, giving birth to their second daughter, Mai. With a real baby to care for, the emotional hole is filled and the antique doll is abruptly stripped of its "daughter" status, treated strictly like an inanimate object and shoved unceremoniously into a dark storage closet!
Another leap takes us five years on, when the second daughter, Mai, is about the same age as the first one was. While exploring the house, the young Mai uncovers the forgotten doll in the wardrobe. The doll introduces itself to Mai as Aya. It seems to talk to her, though not so any adults can see or hear - and spookily seems able to grow hair and nails like a real child. Mai and Aya become inseparable, but the doll is no longer just a passive toy. Harbouring a deep jealousy for being abandoned and replaced by a real child, Aya begins terrorising the household. Anyone who threatens Mai's bond with the doll is met with terrifying, covert supernatural threats!
Realising the danger to Mai, Yoshie and Tadahiko attempt to discard the doll, but no matter where they dump it, it magically reappears somewhere in their lives. It is at this point that they are both sold on the idea that something spooky and supernatural is at play, so they head off to seek help from some religious folk - but not before investigating the history of the dollmaker and the strange background and circumstances surrounding its creation.
That's enough scene-setting now; no spoilers. From here, we head off into an atmospheric, spooky journey of discovery and surprises. There are not really any jump-scares here; as I say, much of the "scare" stuff is slightly off-camera, or involves figures passing by the other side of doors or crossing the frame. For a low-budget outing, that is a really good decision, rather than spending money on second- or third-rate special effects. It uses the viewer's mind to create the horror. Well, not exactly horror, but certainly spookiness.
The rest of the story is very much about what they find, the people who help them, and the ancient history behind the tale. It is done pretty well given the budget, and although it isn't edge-of-the-seat stuff, it is thoughtful and smart at times. There is a half-decent ending to look forward to, though again, it's fairly predictable. We can also learn a bit about Japanese culture here - you have to love the process of the children getting on the school bus and everyone bowing to each other; so polite!
The cinematography uses subtle changes in lighting to reflect Yoshie’s state of mind. Her depression, for example, is bathed in heavy, dark shadows, which briefly turn bright and warm when the doll enters the frame, only to decay into ominous, dim colours when Aya turns malicious. The two main leads, and the little girls do a decent-enough job here, especially Nagasawa in suffering grief, but also the broader cast keep up nicely.
The most unsettling aspects of the film are often the organic ones - the slow growth of the doll's hair, the trimming of its nails and its expressionless face captured on security camera footage. It offers a creeping, atmospheric sense of dread that is actually quite cool. Recommended.
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