You know a horror movie is in trouble when the scariest thing about it is the polyphonic ringtone. That’s One Missed Callin a nutshell—a film where Takashi Miike, a director known for ultraviolent nightmares like Audition and Ichi the Killer, decided to phone it in. Literally. The entire premise hangs on the idea that a cursed voicemail is terrifying. Spoiler: it isn’t. It’s just Verizon with jump scares.
The Plot, or: “You Have 1 New Message”
It all starts when Yoko gets a call from her own number, which is already dumb enough to make you wonder if she accidentally butt-dialed herself from the future. The voicemail contains her own voice predicting her death two days later. And sure enough, she meets her end by getting flung onto a moving train like human confetti.
From there, the movie becomes a morbid game of “Hot Potato” where each character passes the curse along with their dying breath. Someone’s boyfriend plummets down an elevator shaft, another poor soul gets contorted like a yoga mat on live TV, and everyone coughs up jawbreakers like they’ve swallowed Halloween candy incorrectly.
The idea of cursed cell phones might have been clever in 2003, when people were still marveling at flip phones, but watching it now feels like getting ghosted by your data plan.
Yumi: Final Girl or Final Misstep?
Our heroine, Yumi, is a psychology student with the survival instincts of a wet sponge. She spends the movie wandering around, listening to spooky ringtones, and clutching her flip phone like it’s going to sprout teeth and bite her. Every time she’s on screen, you want to grab her shoulders and shout, “Just turn the damn phone off!” But no—she has to keep listening, because horror logic dictates that curiosity is deadlier than common sense.
And when she’s not hyperventilating into her Nokia, she’s unpacking her abusive childhood trauma. Because nothing says “fun J-horror” like splicing ghost curses with a Lifetime movie about bad parenting.
The Deaths: Sponsored by Fruit Gushers
The kills are supposed to be shocking, but they feel like Final Destination knockoffs on a thrift-store budget. A girl falls off an overpass. Another is mangled on live television. Someone gets folded in half like a lawn chair. And then there’s the pièce de résistance: the red jawbreaker gag. Every victim dies with a piece of hard candy in their mouth, like the world’s least appetizing vending machine prize.
Jawbreakers aren’t scary. They’re what you eat when the corner store is out of Skittles. By the fifth one, you half-expect a character to choke and mutter, “This is how I always knew I’d go—death by Dollar Tree candy.”
Takashi Miike, Are You Okay?
This is the man who once gave us someone vomiting up a piano wire in Audition. So how did we end up here, with cursed caller IDs and deadly dial tones? It feels like Miike owed someone a favor, or maybe lost a bet. His usual flair for grotesque, inventive horror is buried under tired tropes and a plot that’s essentially Ringu with worse customer service.
Instead of atmosphere, we get endless shots of people holding flip phones in terror, as if Sprint PCS was underwriting the production. You half-expect the Ghost to whisper, “Can you hear me now?” before ripping someone’s throat out.
The Exorcism Channel
One of the film’s highlights—if you can call it that—is Natsumi’s live televised exorcism. Nothing screams “authentic terror” like watching a demonologist get his ass kicked on what looks like Japanese public access TV. The priest gets blown across the room by invisible forces while the audience eats it up like reality TV. It’s supposed to be horrifying, but it plays more like blooper reel footage from Ghost Hunters.
And then Natsumi’s body does its best Cirque du Soleil impression before collapsing with—you guessed it—a jawbreaker in her mouth. At this point, the candy company should’ve sued for product defamation.
The Mystery: Mommy Issues and Asthma
Eventually, the curse gets traced back to Mimiko, a dead asthmatic child with the personality of a demonic Regina George. At first, we’re told her mother might have been abusing her and her sister. But in a twist nobody asked for, it turns out Mimiko was the real monster all along, slicing her sibling and faking asthma attacks for candy bribes. Because apparently, nothing is scarier than a bratty child with a sweet tooth.
This revelation is supposed to be chilling, but instead it feels like a PSA: “Parents, monitor your kids’ sugar intake, or else they’ll grow up to curse entire phone networks.”
The Finale: Unlimited Plan of Doom
The climax tries to be emotional, with Yumi confronting the ghost of Mimiko and confusing her for her own abusive mother. Tears are shed, hugs are exchanged, and corpses briefly come back to life. It’s less horror, more awkward family therapy session with ghosts.
Then there’s Yamashita, the detective, who gets stabbed after thinking Yumi is safe. Surprise! She’s possessed. Or maybe she just has really bad phone etiquette. The movie ends with him in a hospital, Yumi feeding him a cursed jawbreaker like it’s pillow mint service in hell.
The credits roll, and you’re left wondering if you’ve just watched a horror film or an anti-cell-phone PSA sponsored by landline companies.
The Legacy: Dead Air
One Missed Call became infamous enough to spawn sequels and, worst of all, a Hollywood remake in 2008 that critics treated like an IRS audit. But honestly, the original isn’t much better. Yes, it’s slightly moodier, slightly weirder, and at least the ringtone is catchy, but that’s like saying one dumpster fire is prettier than another because of the color of the flames.
The film tries to ride the J-horror wave launched by Ringu and Ju-On, but it trips over its own premise. Cursed VHS tapes and haunted houses work because they tap into primal fears of media and space. A cursed phone call? That just reminds you to pay your bill.
Final Thoughts: This Call Cannot Be Completed
One Missed Call is a horror movie about missed opportunities. With Takashi Miike at the helm, it could’ve been a twisted masterpiece. Instead, it’s the cinematic equivalent of forgetting your voicemail password. Awkward, confusing, and ultimately pointless.
The kills are boring, the twist is laughable, and the big scare boils down to…ringtone customization. By the end, you’re not afraid of Mimiko or her candy-coated curse. You’re just afraid your phone might buzz again, reminding you that you wasted two hours of your life on this nonsense.
