Ghost cat films, based on Japanese folklore, were abundant in the 1950’s and 60’s. Films such as Nobuo Nakagawa’s Black Cat Mansion, Kenji Misumi’s Ghost Cat: Wall of Hatred, and Yoshihiro Ishikawa’s The Ghost Cat of Otam-ag-Ike cemented the genre as effective as well as profitable. So an entry from 1968 may seem little more than a cash-in. But we’re talking about Kaneto Shindo here, director of the fantastic Onibaba. And while Kuroneko is less ambitious in scope than its predecessor, it’s a more focused horror film, and is one of the best of the sub-genre, and among the best classic Japanese horror you’re likely to find.

Yone and her daughter-in-law, are raped and subsequently murdered in their home by a band of ronin (masterless samurai). Now they are left to roam the earth as vampiric cat spirits, intent on extracting revenge on any samurai that cross their path. Their method of enchanting and luring samurai into a bamboo grove is quickly noticed, and a recently returned samurai named Gintoki is sent to put an end to the killing. Upon encountering them however, he is shocked by their resemblance to his missing mother and wife, who he hasn’t been able to locate since returning home.

To those of us versed in classic Japanese film, this may not scream originality, but in Shindo’s hands, a classic tale told many times over becomes a refreshing, beautiful, and deeply moving piece on love, loss, and grief. While comparisons to Onibaba are certainly prevalent at times, such as a complete sense of isolation and a mother/daughter-in-law duo preying on hapless samurai, the comparisons really end there. Kuroneko is a much more straight-forward horror tale, with heavy elements of the fantastic. It is also much more lyrical and poetic, a tragedy of the highest order. Shindo also employs new tactics, such as scenes featuring wire work, where Yone and Shige battle samurai attempting to escape their inevitable fate. While something like this may seem out of place in a subdued horror tale such as this, its executed in a fashion that fits in perfectly with the eerie tone of the film.

Technically, the film is a marvel. Even though the film was made in 1968, Shindo chose to shoot in black and white, which is absolutely beautiful and enhances the atmosphere greatly. The cinematography is definitely something to behold, with incredible landscapes and moody lighting. The score fits like a glove, at times hopeful, at times filled with sorrow, but always esoteric.

It wouldn’t do this review justice if I didn’t mention how amazing the ending is. Its pure perfection, and utterly chilling in its simple finality. It truly hammers home the films themes of loss, grief, suffering, and yes, death.

Kuroneko shows that a tired-and-true theme can always feel fresh if held in the right hands. While there are many similar films, Kuroneko rises above pretty much all of them and showcases the best of what this genre has to offer. This is a masterpiece not to be missed.