Adapting a video game like 2023’s indie-horror hit The Exit 8 comes with a challenge. Unlike other adaptations, this has no real plot or story to work with––just a high-concept hook. A first-person walking simulator, The Exit 8 places you in an underground passageway that loops on itself, starting at Exit 0. As you walk through each iteration of the same corridors, you must follow two rules: 1) if everything looks normal, keep walking; 2) if you notice any “anomalies,” turn back immediately. Choose correctly, and your exit number increases when the loop resets. But if you go in the wrong direction, you start back at Exit 0. The only way out is to reach the eighth exit––otherwise you’re stuck forever.
Gameplay simplicity and use of the trendy liminal horror subgenre made The Exit 8 a viral success––currently the game has sold over 1.5 million copies––which also saw a boost in popularity from streamers whose videos have amassed millions of views. But how do you create a feature-length film out of a game that could be beaten in a matter of minutes? For director and co-writer Genki Kawamura, it’s to rely on horror’s tried-and-true method of leaning into allegory, with Exit 8’s premise becoming a representation of how routines can trap us in cycles of bad behaviors. The film’s main character is The Lost Man (Kazunari Ninomiya), who we see on his daily commute in the Tokyo subway. While navigating the labyrinthine system of pedestrian tunnels, he gets a call from his recent ex-girlfriend who tells him she’s pregnant, and he has to tell her if he wants her to keep the baby.
Paralyzed with indecision, the call cuts out before he can answer, and soon he notices that the path he’s on keeps repeating itself down to the mute businessman (Yamato Kochi) who walks by every time he turns the same corner. These early sections come closest to replicating the game, with Kawamura and cinematographer Keisuke Imamura using long, Steadicam shots and invisible cuts to maintain a wandering eye for viewers to spot anomalies. The fact that much of the first act can stay engaging with minimal dialogue and a straightforward, repetitive set-up speaks to the strength of the game’s concept, how just the idea of being thrown into an uncanny alternate dimension can maintain a low-lying tension all its own.
The Lost Man’s story does have to change at some point, and how Exit 8 builds upon its source material is a mixed bag. A section of the film breaks from him to focus on the walking businessman’s backstory in a smart, surprising sequence that deepens the mystery of the looping exits. The film also introduces a young boy that The Lost Man takes with him as he tries making his way out, and this new character brings the man’s crisis about fatherhood back to the forefront in a disappointing, all-too-obvious manner.
Perhaps some better-executed character arc or thematic representation could have given Exit 8 a more satisfying conclusion. Kawamura’s attempts to put his own stamp on his adaptation are too literal and generic to mesh with the concept’s intrigue; the film’s use of Ravel’s “Boléro” is just one example. The Lost Man barely registers as a character, and his anxiety and guilt over the inability to take responsibility in his life are far less interesting to explore than the setting he’s trying to escape. It’s a perfunctory plot meant to make The Exit 8 in this format, which in turn points out the film’s limitations contra the game. A lack of narrative in The Exit 8 opens it to be experienced and interpreted in any way the player wants; Exit 8 uses narrative to tie itself to one main character arc and interpretation that boxes everything in.
It’s a slight disappointment, as Exit 8 can be a little too subdued given the potential of its premise. Fans of the game should come away satisfied by Kawamura’s reverence for it, with the production design perfectly recreating the game’s environment along with several anomalies (sadly, some of the more memorable encounters in the game don’t get recreated here). It’s an adaptation that expands and contracts its source material in different ways––some successful, others less so––and a perfectly fine bit of psychological horror that understands the strengths of what it’s working from, even if it has little interest in trying to make them stronger.
Exit 8 screened at TIFF will be released by NEON in 2026.