no one lives (2017), when compared to director ryuhei kitamura’s hollywood debut the midnight meat train (2008), is a much stronger production around the same stylistic lines. combining the slick and psychological sensibilities of kiyoshi kurosawa and takashi miike with the gore-fest sensibilities of wes craven and sam raimi, the film presents the “victim becomes the hunter” premise of last house on the left (1972) and i spit on your grave (1978) through the lens of the hyper-slick, hyper-capable, hyper-charismatic psychopath serial killer paradigm. i personally found the combination to be somewhat trite, considering that the appeal of the precedent films lies in the unexpected transformation of the genuinely wretched figure into the unexpectedly vicious, and the survival horror atmosphere clashes somewhat with the jigsaw-like utter control the serial killer is purported to have over his victims. more than that, the “killer in love with his victim, whom he seeks to transform into something inhuman like him” subplot merely telegraphs itself to the audience, rather than presenting any character moments the audience can get their teeth into—exactly the point of greatest weakness in the midnight meat train (2008). but this film learns from that one’s weaknesses: it does not make unsupported philosophical pretensions, and it keeps its plot streamlined and driving in pace, relying more on moment-to-moment suspense than plot-long mysteries. the overall product is cohesive and compelling, albeit with a somewhat factory-made feel. no one lives (2017) shows a director much more comfortable in his work, and for that i congratulate him
