Cannes 2025 Review: EXIT 8 Sets New Standard for Videogame Adaptation

Yes, you heard it right. Exit 8, the Cannes Film Festival out-of-competition midnight selection, is indeed the adaptation of The Exit 8 videogame from Kotake Create.

The fact that it's one of the official entries should already give you an idea of the caliber of the filmmaking; no one expects this from a videogame adaptation. Interesting thing is, it's also possibly the most faithful film adaptation of a videogame ever. I went into the screening cold and nevertheless had "videogame" in my notes. But instead of reminding you of its origins, the film readily invites comparisons with cult classics like Cube and Run Lola Run.

The rules of the game are simple. The player is lost inside a subway station -- quite frankly, who hasn't been? Except in this case, they are stuck in a seemingly endless loop of the same passageway. In order to level up and reach the titular egress, they must turn around toward where they come from upon spotting any anomalies, or forge ahead if there's none. Whenever a mistake is made, all progress is negated and the game reset.

Standing in for the player is Kazunari Ninomiya, best known in the States for Letters From Iwo Jima and in Japan for being a member of the top-selling boyband Arashi, though his idol past is entirely erased from the film's English press notes. Aboard the train, he ghosts a call from his girlfriend (Nana Komatsu) wishing to discuss her unplanned pregnancy. He also witnesses -- and proceeds to tune out like other straphangers -- a salaryman berating a mother for her newborn's wailing.

The "game" commences once he gets off the train on his way to a temp job, oblivious to his predicament, even as audience members start to catch on. Granted, he's also contending with asthma attacks amid all this. He eventually tries to document everything with his smartphone, and of course it doesn't work!

Under Genki Kawamura's direction, Exit 8 readily draws comparisons with Vincenzo Natali's 1997 minimalist horror, Cube, in that one simple set is reconceptualized and redecorated over and over to provide the illusion of the characters' transportation and the story's progression. It's such a genius ploy for cash-strapped indie filmmaking that I'm surprised no one else has successfully replicated it in 28 years.

Production designer Ryo Sugimoto and set designer Yutaka Motegi have created the most realistic generic subway corridor ever. Like, it simultaneously exists in multiple cities, and we've all been there. It's simple enough that eagle-eyed audience members can, um, play along and spot any differences on the signage, doors, and advertisements for a legal professional, an art exhibition, a plastic surgeon, and so forth. Cinematographer Keisuke Imamura manages to find plenty of possibilities within these confines.

Given that it's practically the same set reiterated, Ninomiya provides a dynamic portrayal in this spatial blank canvas. His performance must do the heavy lifting to string us along, and he absolutely pulls this off. Equally commendable is Yamato Kochi, who has the even more unenviable task of playing a literal videogame character, circling through the same passageway over and over, sometimes repeating the same performance while walking past a radically different Ninomiya, and sometimes . . . not.

Editor Sakura Seya pieces everything together to fashion an effective horror-thriller. Though it's purposely repetitive, there's nary a dull moment. Is the original videogame this much fun?