The Haunting Legacy of

Back in the late 90s, Asian horror was virtually unknown to Western audiences. The few titles that did reach Europe and beyond were often bootleg VHS copies with poor dubbing and even worse picture quality. This may have contributed to a general skepticism towards Asian cinema.

DVDs were still a novelty in those days. They had not yet become as popular as they did throughout the early 00s. VHS tapes were still in circulation. For better or worse, a cursed VHS tape would become a novel way for malevolent entities to kill from the great beyond.

I'm talking, of course, about 1998's The Ring, a low-budget supernatural horror movie that tells the story of Sadako, a young girl whose vengeful spirit haunts the living. The Ring arguably opened the floodgates for Asian horror cinema's journey westwards over the following years.

Based on a series of novels by Japanese writer Koji Suzuki, The Ring, directed with flair by Hideo Nakata, became an instant hit. It is undoubtedly a classic of the macabre. The film is made even more memorable by featuring a method of killing that is, even by today's standards, terrifying and deeply personal. The final blow is delivered through an appliance found in every household: a TV screen.

The Ring's lore draws inspiration from folk tales found in Japanese folklore, which was, and to a large extent still is, virtually unknown to all but the most hardcore historians and fans of the supernatural.

This retrospective delves into how The Ring series ties with traditional legends and ghost stories from the Land of the Rising Sun.

Okiku's Yurei

Okiku and the Nine Plates is one of the best-known Japanese folk tales. In the classical version of this tragedy, a humble and beautiful maid named Okiku serves a samurai lord called Aoyama. He is taken by her beauty and attempts to seduce her multiple times. Okiku steadfastly refuses. Enraged by her rejection, Aoyama crafts a plot to discredit Okiku's worth and reputation.

The samurai owns a precious collection of ten Dutch plates, which Okiku is responsible for safekeeping. One day, after cleaning and putting the plates away, Aoyama sneaks into the kitchen, takes one of the plates, and hides it in his own bedchamber.

The next morning, trouble brews in Aoyama's mansion. When the other maids learn of the missing plate, Okiku is summoned. She was supposedly the last person to handle the valuable crockery. Okiku counts the plates over and over, one to nine. The tenth plate is nowhere to be found. She breaks down in front of her Master, as the plates were her responsibility. Aoyama speaks soothingly, saying he can forgive her if she agrees to become his lover. But once again, Okiku refuses.

In a fit of rage, Aoyama kills Okiku with his sword. After slaying her, he throws her lifeless body into a well outside his home. But when darkness falls, there is a stir at the bottom of the well. Aoyama investigates, peers over the rim, and hears a woman sobbing, counting one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine... There is no ten. Instead, whatever dwells in the well lets out a terrifying, otherworldly shriek.

Okiku's vengeful spirit rises from the well, obsessively counting the plates she was responsible for in life. In lieu of the missing plate, she shrieks to taunt her former Master night after night, driving Aoyama into madness, thus realizing her revenge.

Different versions of this tale have been told in Japan since the 12th century. As Western culture began influencing Japanese life, certain elements changed, but the core of the story—the curse—remains.

Interestingly, many old wells and aquifers around Japan were contaminated with an odd-looking parasite known as Okiku's bug. This insect, the Chinese Windmill Butterfly, has a chrysalis form that resembles a female body wrapped in black silk threads. People began to believe this was the reincarnation of Okiku. Ever since, she has been represented as a beautiful girl with long black hair, arms tied behind her back, and the lower body of a worm.

Dim Souls: From Okiku to Sadako

We have mentioned the word yurei. In broad terms, yurei is analogous to Western ghosts, though there are local nuances.

Yurei is a compound name: Yu, meaning 'hidden' or more commonly, dim, and rei, meaning 'soul' or 'spirit.'

In Japanese culture, every person has a rei, a soul. When someone dies of natural causes, or when their time is due, the soul awaits rites that will enable its passage to join its ancestors in peace. If the ritual is performed correctly, the rei passes on and cannot return to the land of the living.

However, if someone meets a violent or untimely end—through murder or suicide, for example—the soul becomes a yurei that can find its way back to the physical world. Murder or suicide victims are often filled with strong emotions at the moment of death. Hate, fear, or sorrow bind the spirit to the world it left behind. The last thought at the moment of death becomes an obsession, leading to a haunting until the emotion is resolved. If it remains unresolved, the haunting continues. Traditionally, the lower a person’s social rank, the more powerful and cruel the curse. Hence, Okiku's desire for revenge against the samurai who wronged her became incredibly strong.

Japanese yurei have distinctive appearances. They wear long white garments resembling traditional burial kimonos. Yurei are usually depicted without legs or feet, or at least, the kimono’s hem covers them. When they move, their arms hang outstretched close to their bodies. And there's one more trait that distinguishes a yurei: their hair is long and jet black. Japanese women typically wear their hair up, except during their funerals, when it is allowed to flow down.

Sadako's Curse: An Onryo Bent on Vengeance

And so we've come full circle to this moment, just like in the iconic image that The Ring takes its name from.

It is now clear how the character of Sadako came to be. The ghostly pale hands, the white garment, that long, black hair. And the well, of course. The influence of Japanese folklore is notably strong.

The name Sadako itself combines two words: Sada (chaste) and ko (child). This is an important clue. The original Ring book that the 1998 film is based upon hints that Sadako was intersex and thus could not reproduce. This allows the viewer (or reader) to infer that Sadako lived through the curse she bestowed upon the tape. Her sentient essence could pass from one copy of the tape to another, enabling her to potentially live on indefinitely.

The entity known as Sadako is portrayed as an onryo, a vengeful spirit bound to the world of the living by a strong desire for revenge against those who harmed her.

Interestingly, onryos are almost exclusively female. They emerge from seemingly innocent, tame, and loyal humans while living, only to become extremely violent and dangerous spirits after death. Those who wronged them will pay the price.

Sadako's motivations vary depending on the timeline one considers. In the 'classic' Ring, it is implied that she was murdered by her father and thrown down the well, where her onryo rose from, vowing revenge against the world. It is also hinted that Sadako's true father was a sea demon. Regardless of the timeline, Sadako's onryo always returns to harm those who wronged her in life.

Sadako's Legacy Lives On

The Ring franchise blends horror and rich mythology in an exhilarating cocktail of supernatural goings-on. The character of Sadako indeed features in many 'Scariest Moments' lists.

The legacy and sheer visual power of the chaste child's first appearance through a TV screen will linger in our minds long after we switch off our own televisions.

The Cultural Impact of The Ring

The Ring has not only influenced the horror genre but has also sparked a renewed interest in Asian folklore. The film's success led to a wave of remakes and adaptations, both in the West and in Asia. This phenomenon has opened doors for many independent filmmakers to explore unconventional horror narratives.

The haunting tale of Sadako has inspired countless stories, films, and even video games. As a result, the cultural impact of The Ring continues to resonate. It serves as a reminder of the power of storytelling and the deep-rooted fears that connect us all.

Conclusion: Embracing the Darkness

As we delve into the chilling world of The Ring, we uncover layers of meaning and cultural significance. The story of Sadako is more than just a horror tale; it is a reflection of our fears, our desires for revenge, and the consequences of our actions.

In the end, the legacy of The Ring reminds us that the darker side of fiction can be a powerful tool for exploring the human experience. It invites us to confront our fears and embrace the shadows that linger just beyond the light.

So, as we turn off our screens and step back into the world, let us carry with us the haunting echoes of Sadako's story. After all, the line between reality and the supernatural is often thinner than we think.