Movie Review: Rings (2017)

The 1998 Japanese horror film known as Ringu is by far and away one of my favorite horror films. It’s a tense, psychological film that uses its premise to impose an ever increasing sense of doom upon its characters—and likewise, its viewer. It’s wonderfully filmed, terrifically acted, has a great soundtrack, and uses a great minimalist approach. All in all, it’s a film I highly recommend to anyone who wants a great J-Horror flick, or great horror flick in general. In 2002, the film was remade with future Pirates of the Caribbean direct Gore Verbinski at the film. Simply titled “The Ring”, the film began a chain of J-Horror remakes here in the United States. Almost all of these were failures critically and besides The Ring, only one ever took off in any capacity: The Grudge. Unlike that film and the others that followed in its wake, The Ring was actually well received. Critics praised its atmosphere and acting, though some found it to be a bit on the jump scare heavy side. Three years after the release of The Ring, a sequel emerged from the depths of Sadako’s well: The Ring Two. Why the film decided to spell out the number and not simply have said number there, I don’t know. Either way, the sequel was helmed by Hideo Nakata, who helmed the original Ringu. Unlike that film however, The Ring Two was critically demolished as an incredibly large downgrade from the 2002 film, let alone the original 1998 one. Jumpscares galore, poor CGI, and lackluster storytelling plagued the film. In spite of this, the film made three times its budget and as such, it was a success. Because of this, a third film—tentatively titled Ring 3D—was planned. This is thanks to 3D having something of a resurgence back then; a resurgence that would later be cemented as a staple of cinema thanks to James Cameron. Ring 3D was slated for release around 2007, but was later pushed back again and again and again. Eventually, the film dropped off the face of the Earth and was presumably canceled. Whether or not this was because the script was utter garbage is unknown, but one has to wonder how bad it was if today’s film, Rings, was capable of being made and released into 2,931 theaters.
A film that held more release dates than I care to list, Rings is a sequel that came 12 years too late at best and one that desecrates the franchise’s name harder than any sequel I’ve seen in a long, long time. The film starts off with a guy on a plane whose time is up because he didn’t share the tape with anyone. This terrifies a woman who was cursed by it, but shared it, so she’s a-okay. After our nameless man runs to the bathroom (the girl following close behind) and having the plane’s water break, the in flight television screens go into labor and give birth to Samara Morgan—the Americanized Sadako Yamamura. Taking after her idol, Bane from The Dark Knight Rises, her master plan commences, and she crashes the plane. We then learn, through some D-grade acting, exposition, and other tripe, that Vincent D'Onofrio is Samara’s father and that some girl whose name I cannot be asked to remember watched the tape and as such is marked for death because Samara needs to feed like she’s from Little Shop of Horrors. All told, I made it about halfway through this film and gave up because it followed a very familiar pattern every step of the way. I will now help you visualize such steps and I must warn you: they’re 3spooky5me. Jump scare Revelation that surprises nobody Jump scare Revelation that surprises nobody E M O T I O N Jump scare Jump scare E M O T I O N A L R E V E L A T I O N Jump scare If this comes across as something you think would prove to be entertaining, then golly gee willikers, Rings may just be the greatest film that has ever been made. It spoon feeds you details because nuance and intelligent filmmaking is a foreign concept to the three bozos—one of who is Akiva Goldsman—who made this piece of trash screenplay. Allow me to discuss the acting: it’s bad and you should feel bad if you consider it anything other than bad. As per the norm, the film is cast with the prettiest, plasticiest faces that money can buy. Enough makeup to suffocate a small village, enough eyebrow plucking that one should be forgiven for mistaking them for having been painted on, and open mouthed looks of shock because everything is a revelation of true blue horror and shock. It brings to mind the genuine shock and fear that was felt in Ringu and it makes me want play chicken with the United States Military. Directing wise, the film was helmed by a man named F. Javier Gutiérrez. I’ve never heard of him and truth be told, I don’t blame him for this mess. I’m sure he did the best he could to turn trash into platinum. I honestly pity the poor guy. This is the most positive thing I’ll say about the film. Sorry, Javier. The script on the other hand is a catastrophe; a complete and total disaster in the way of writing and the concept of horror. If the best one can produce is a jump scare because the concept of building tension is too foreign to them, then they need to stop writing horror and write something—anything—else. This isn’t how you write horror. At all. This isn’t even how you write a film. Let alone a damn story! Such eliquate filmmaking brings to mind the likes of Stanley Kubrick and Ron Howard; a true masterpiece of filmmaking. Well, if you’ve never seen anything other a plaster cast of a Bigfoot print. The sheer ingenious nature of Rings is unlike anything one could comprehend; it’s truly spectacle to behold. Nothing—absolutely nothing—functions on any conceivable level. Instead, it wallows in the bed that it defecated in and rolls around like it’s trying to put a fire. If you’re someone who cannot be reasoned with and believe that you absolutely must watch every entry in a series, then go ahead: watch Rings. As for me, I’ll happily stick to the fact I couldn’t finish it because F. Javier Gutiérrez’s work of bloody art. Final Score: It Isn’t Getting One/5