Gore Verbinski’s The Ring led the first wave of early 2000s horror remakes that partially defined the era’s landscape alongside Saw torture-porners and other reactionary post-9/11 subgenres. Granted, remakes have always been a foundational pillar that keeps horror reinventing itself decade after decade — but the 2000s were different. Production companies like Platinum Dunes and Dark Castle Entertainment fixated on updating horror favorites from iconic slashers to Vincent Price oldies, banking on nostalgia as an added profitability measure (less so for Dark Castle, unfortunately). It’s curious though, because 2003’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and others get referenced when conversations think back to what started The Great 2000s Remake Avalanche — The Ring somewhat forgotten in these terms.
That could be because The Ring is based on Hideo Nakata’s Japanese adaptation Ringu (aka Ring), an international ghost story less popular with domestic audiences whose first introduction to Koji Suzuki’s 1991 novel was Verbinski’s Americanization. That’s not a scold, just an observation. The Ring is still frequently heralded as a top-tier horror heavyweight in a post-Y2K world, exemplified by soggy-haired Samara’s inescapable pop-culture relevance. From Saturday Night Live sketches to the most intricately planned and well-oiled cosplays, Verbinski brought a new face of terror to stateside audiences who’ve yet to escape Samara’s curse — somewhat overshadowing the Japanese original.
The Approach
‘Ringu’ (1998)
Verbinski set out to remake Nakata’s Ringu more than adapt Suzuki’s literature anew. The filmmaker was handed a VHS of Ringu, and only a short time later, the determined Verbinski was securing remake rights. Ehren Kruger’s screenplay comes from what’s seen on screen in Ringu — an interesting approach with Suzuki’s novel on the table. One of the great outs for horror filmmakers remaking movies based on existing works is that you can pick up the source material and start from scratch, but that’s not what intrigued Verbinski. He was so rattled and transfixed by Nakata’s Ringu, that’s what Verbinski wanted to recapture.
The bones of Kruger’s narrative are noticeably the same. Naomi Watts plays Seattle-based journalist Rachel Keller, who’s investigating a supposedly cursed videotape in relation to her niece’s death. Martin Henderson is Noah Clay — a video analyst and her ex-boyfriend — who aids Rachel as she races against a countdown clock that suggests she’ll die in seven days if supernatural paranoia proves to be confirmed. Things become graver when Rachel and Noah’s son Aidan (David Dorfman) watches a copy of the vengeful videotape supposedly killing its audience, which brings a frantic Rachel into Samara’s (Daveigh Chase) tragic world. Nothing too unfamiliar to fans of Ringu, at least on the surface.
Outside the basic parallels of a journalist lead, sidekick ex-lover, and endangered child are diversions that firmly separate The Ring and Ringu. Verbinski previously notes that roughly half of The Ring is brand new, rewriting Samara’s backstory or erasing mumbles about “brine and goblins.” The Ring is a vastly more straightforward horror approach that uses bathtub electrocutions and downplays some of the friction between Rachel and Noah, falling in line with the “show, don’t tell” mentality of American horror productions. Nakata’s Japanese iteration follows more character-driven, almost “true crime” guidelines that leave terror to the imagination — Verbinski doesn’t want us working all that hard to understand why we should fear Samara.
Does It Work?
‘The Ring’ (2002)
Verbinski doesn’t disgrace Nakata’s signatures nor waste an opportunity to shine a light on Ringu. What survives the translation from Japanese to English helps Verbinski introduce American audiences to J-Horror spirituality and dampness, while also driving interest toward Ringu. Kruger’s screenplay (supposedly with an uncredited Scott Frank rewrite) doesn’t mean to be a ripoff, nor does Verbinski try to mimic Nakata’s directorial personality (pacing, tone, etcetera). The Ring works because what’s inherently terrifying about Ringu is present, but Verbinski assures individuality through a lens meant to serve American audiences more easily deterred by descriptors like “pulp” and “avant-garde” (how Verbinski describes Nakata’s masterpiece).
What’s missing is Nakata’s mysticism and more Japanese-styled horror flourishes, which doesn’t necessarily dock points, but when watched back-to-back, The Ring helps me appreciate Ringu a hair more. Verbinski sets his sights on punchier scares, quicker impacts, and inescapable dread, whereas Nakata explores fable-like tragedies. It’s as simple as comparing both video reels of disturbing imagery. Where Nakata’s tape plays a montage of naturalistic black-and-white vignettes from cresting waves to written Japanese language, Verbinski goes for the kill with slithery centipedes, rotting livestock corpses, and hardware nails puncturing fingers. Nakata invites the audience to imaginatively run wild with horrors that aren’t always explicitly visible — a main essence that defines J-Horror — where Verbinski plays to American demographics who want to see everything up close and personal, without a shadow of a doubt.
Kruger and Verbinski’s alterations are dagger-sharp calculations that work within their confines. There’s never a forced feeling to recreate Nakata’s far more ghastly yet wickedly whimsical Ringu — the definitions of “good” and “evil” are cemented by Verbinski, where Nakata leans into moral dilemmas and a fluctuating state of gloom. It’s not like the recreation of Ryūji Takayama (the original ex-boyfriend played by Hiroyuki Sanada) in Henderson’s Noah is worse because he doesn’t possess any sixth sense or psychic abilities. Verbinski opts for a more grounded spectral race against time that’s far darker — visually and thematically — which works because it’s given complete devotion. Homage is paid to Nakata’s O.G. in broad foundational strokes, but in practice, Verbinski snatches the proverbial baton and is off to the races without a glance backward.
The Result
‘The Ring’ (2002)
The Ring still holds its ground as a sufficiently scare-stuffed 2000s horror staple. It’s easy to see why a slew of J-Horror remakes would follow from The Grudge to Shutter and beyond since The Ring paralyzed frightened audiences and turned a sizable profit (almost 250m against a 48m budget). From the Scary Movie spoofed introduction featuring two schoolgirls gossiping about boyfriends and parties to an ending that sees Noah succumb to Samara’s deadly gaze, Verbinski cares more about jumps, jolts, and raised hairs to an exceptional length. While Ringu can sometimes feel like a haunted soap opera, The Ring stays focused on making audiences squirm in their seats. It may become more expected through the everyday use of jump scares and horror tropes, but execution delivers well above lesser copycats.
There’s a reason why the mangled, putrid, distorted face of Amber Tamblyn has become one of the go-to jump scare examples in horror since 2002. There’s a reason why cinematographer Bojan Bazelli’s shot selections of jagged skeletal trees and rainy Washington landscapes are still talked about as a strikingly gorgeous example of genre filmmaking that isn’t afraid of succumbing to darkness. I don’t usually love the drab blueish, sickly-greenish lighting filter that cools the mood throughout movies. However, this waterlike hue highlights that downtrodden atmosphere of environmental wetness and atmospheric duress. The Ring is so well composed of elements that otherwise would seem ordinary and overdone, which is an odd compliment but one still earned by Verbinski.
Although, there’s a dimension missing from Verbinski’s clear-cut “simplification” of Ringu that I didn’t think that critically of until seeing both films in the same sitting. It’s a greater adjustment, explicitly noticed by how Kruger eliminates the frantic water-bucket sequence from Ringu by knocking Rachel into Samara’s well-grave with a static-buzzing television that breaks through floorboards. There’s rich drama, and we learn so much about the characters of Reiko Asakawa (the Japanese original’s journalist played by Nanako Matsushima) and Ryūji just by their teamwork as one fills a container with water and the other hoists from above. The Ring doesn’t value these moments as highly or outright wipes their existence, weakening the importance of Rachel and Noah’s relationship to emphasize brutal scares that are at least worth their spotlights.
The Lesson
‘The Ring’ (2002)
Once again, as I reiterate entry after entry, originality is key when remaking international films. Verbinski creates with freshness where something like Quarantine exhaustively replicates. Cultural horror trends won’t resonate as well in other nations, so it makes sense why the more tradition-oriented Ringu gets a makeover with The Ring. Japanese society has a bit different relationship with the afterlife and spiritual beliefs than the more “realistic,” maybe cut-and-dry American audiences looking for The Ring to take a harder stance against the amazingly designed Samara: dripping wet, bangs like greasy shades covering her death-peering eyes, clothes and skin fizzling like television fuzz from wonky antennas.
So what did we learn?
● It’s not always about going bigger and better, but exploring a different presentation of a familiar story — The Ring is meaner, nastier, and more visually charged versus the tell vs. show Ringu.
● Naomi Watts has never topped The Ring despite starring in multiple horror remakes.
● The Ring versus Ringu is one of the best showcases of significant differences between American and Japanese horror filmmaking signatures.
● I’ll never be able to watch the Katie jump scare without reacting — a wince, a sigh, anything.
Give Verbinski all the credit because The Ring ushered in a wave of J-Horror remakes and introduced American horror audiences to a whole universe of Japanese originals to watch after their English language counterparts. It takes more than a remake to turn lower-level horror viewers on to international originals — it takes a good remake. Interest in originals doesn’t translate when the remake tanks. The Ring could have been a non-starter for an entire horror movement, but thankfully Verbinski opened the door to a deluge of J-Horror interest.
As horror journalists and superfans, we must remember that the everyday moviegoer doesn’t have the same dedication or resources even to know something like Nakata’s Ringu exists without the right entry point. The Ring is that exact mainstream, studio-produced gateway that alone presents a pro-remake argument we horror obsessors must remember.
In Revenge of the Remakes, columnist Matt Donato takes us on a journey through the world of horror remakes. We all complain about Hollywood’s lack of originality whenever studios announce new remakes, reboots, and reimaginings, but the reality? Far more positive examples of refurbished classics and updated legacies exist than you’re willing to remember (or admit). The good, the bad, the unnecessary – Matt’s recounting them all.
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