The Setup Nobody Asked For
Some horror films start with a bang. Premonition (Yogen), however, starts with a whimper and then somehow manages to get quieter. Imagine stopping at a phone booth in the middle of nowhere in 2004 (already horrifying—who still uses those?). Our hero, Hideki Satomi, is uploading a file like he’s the last man alive still on dial-up when fate decides to send him tomorrow’s news. Literally. A scrap of newspaper predicts his daughter’s death in a car crash, and shocker: it happens immediately.
The idea of a newspaper predicting the future could have been spooky. But instead of leaning into existential dread, this movie leans into… excessive staring. People stare at newspapers, stare at trains, stare at each other’s foreheads, all while the audience stares at their watch wondering how much longer this thing goes on.
The Divorce Olympics
Fast-forward three years, because watching characters grieve might have been too interesting. Hideki and his wife Ayaka are divorced—probably because she realized she married a man who spends more time screaming at newspapers than parenting. Ayaka, now moonlighting as both a psychologist and the world’s least skeptical ghost hunter, interviews a psychic about this “Newspaper of Terror.” The psychic looks like she’d rather be at bingo, but instead dies surrounded by Polaroids, because apparently film still existed in 2004 Japan.
Ayaka then calls her ex-husband to say, “Hey, maybe you’re not crazy!” To which Hideki basically replies, “Don’t patronize me, woman.” Their chemistry is so dry it makes the Sahara look like a water park.
Teacher of the Year (Not)
Hideki is still a teacher despite being haunted by the world’s least convenient subscription service. He notices one of his students, Sayuri, waxing philosophical about fate. He later sees a headline that she’s about to die. Instead of maybe calling the cops, locking her indoors, or literally anything proactive, he runs across town and shows up just in time to witness her being murdered. Great work, Teach. Really nailed that intervention.
This is the point where most horror protagonists would start unraveling. Hideki, however, unravels at the speed of a snail on tranquilizers. His primary acting choices: sweat, pout, and shout “AYAKAAAA!” like he’s auditioning for a soap opera.
The Ash Man Cometh
Enter Rei Kigata, a man who apparently made it his life’s work to study these cursed newspapers. Our heroes find his house, which looks like it was decorated by a depressed raccoon. Conveniently, Rei left behind a stack of VHS tapes (because nothing screams 2004 like technology that already belonged in a museum).
The tapes reveal Rei slowly turning into a pile of ashes while ranting about fate. Honestly, the footage is scarier than anything else in the film—because watching a man waste years recording VHS confessions is the truest horror of all. His remains are literally a lump of ash shaped vaguely like a body. Subtlety: dead.
Love, Death, and Train Schedules
Hideki and Ayaka rekindle their romance, proving that nothing reignites passion like mutual trauma and watching people combust. They even make love, which in this movie means awkwardly touching each other while the audience silently prays for a werewolf attack.
Naturally, Hideki finds another newspaper predicting that Ayaka will die in a train crash with 100 other people. He sprints to save her, but because he’s the protagonist, he only manages to save her and leaves everyone else to die horribly. Guess chivalry isn’t dead, but 100 commuters sure are.
Also, Hideki’s hand starts turning black from all the fate-interference. If only the scriptwriter’s pen had turned black too—it might have saved us all.
Haunted by His Own Plot Holes
Hideki is then haunted by the ghosts of everyone he didn’t save. Which is, at this point, a pretty long guest list: the psychic, the student, random commuters, possibly half of Tokyo. They appear to him like the world’s angriest PTA meeting, and suddenly he realizes—oh no—maybe he can’t save both his wife and daughter.
And here lies the film’s dramatic climax: Hideki chooses to sacrifice himself. He flashes back to the car crash from the beginning and decides to stay in the car this time, ensuring Ayaka and Nana survive. The car explodes, Ayaka screams, and Nana casually watches her dad get retconned out of existence by a newspaper fluttering in the breeze. Touching stuff. Or it would be, if we cared about these people even a little bit.
Acting? Optional
Hiroshi Mikami, as Hideki, deserves some sort of award—not for acting, but for keeping a straight face through dialogue like, “The newspaper told me!” Noriko Sakai as Ayaka does her best, but mostly alternates between “concerned” and “sobbing.” Supporting characters come and go so quickly that it feels like the director was allergic to continuity.
The true star of the film is the newspaper itself. At least it delivers its lines on time.
The Horror of Bad Editing
The film’s pacing is a nightmare—not in a scary way, but in a “why hasn’t this ended yet” way. Scenes drag on forever: Hideki staring at headlines, Ayaka flipping through files, the psychic mumbling cryptic nonsense. It’s as if the editor confused suspense with sleep paralysis.
The scares? Cheap jump cuts, blurry visions, and the occasional CGI truck barreling down the road like it’s late for work. By the end, you don’t scream—you sigh.
The Curse of J-Horror Theater
Premonition was part of Takashige Ichise’s J-Horror Theater double feature, alongside Infection. The problem is, Infectionactually managed to be disturbing, while Premonition feels like filler content that escaped from a straight-to-DVD bin.
Yes, the manga it’s based on (Newspaper of Terror) had potential, but here it’s squandered with melodrama, plodding exposition, and a climax that’s as predictable as—well, a newspaper telling you what’s about to happen.
Final Verdict
Premonition (2004) wants to ask deep questions about fate, destiny, and the cost of tampering with the future. Instead, it delivers 119 minutes of a man yelling at newspapers while his wife sighs in the background. It’s less “terrifying exploration of inevitability” and more “public service announcement about recycling.”
The only true horror here is realizing you could have spent this time re-watching The Ring, clipping actual coupons, or literally reading a real newspaper from 2004—which would have been scarier because, let’s be honest, those headlines were terrifying.
