Missing Child Videotape (2024) Film Review – Deafening Silence [Nippon Connection 2025]

Posted on by Jim Cox

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Missing Child Videotape is a 2024 Japanese supernatural horror film written and directed by Ryota Kondo with additional writing from Suzuyuki Kaneko. Known for directing the short films Akai tegata (2010) and Kyouran (2010), Ryota Kondo has also collaborated on the horror anthology Hyakki Yobanashi (2023), featuring the segment “Oni no Yobigoe”. Whereas Suzuyuki Kaneko has worked as a writer on feature-length films such as Wonderful Paradise (2020) and Nuigurumi to shaberuhito ha yasasii (2023), TV series such as Kingdom (2022) and Kaze no Fuku Shima (2025), and has even starred in several titles as an actor, including Koji Shiraishi’s Senritsu Kaiki File Kowasugi: The Most Terrifying Movie in History (2014).

One day, a videotape unexpectedly arrives from his mother. It shows the moment of his brother’s disappearance 13 years ago. As unforgettable and ghastly as this memory is, Keita decides to confront the incident once more and retrace the past, heading to the ruins of a mountain that should never have existed.

As a remake of the director’s 2023 short film of the same name, which secured 2nd place at the Japan Horror Film Awards 2024, this feature-length version effectively expands on the initial concept. Blending subtle supernatural elements into a somber tale of regret and remorse, this aspect gradually becomes a more significant part of the narrative’s slow-burn progression. This gradual introduction to the film’s horror elements creates an exceptionally effective buildup of enigmatic tension that continues to mount until the very end.

While the majority of Missing Child Videotape is filmed through slick, modern cinematography, the film also incorporates a level of archaic VHS-style found footage interwoven into the narrative. The cinematography features an abundance of tight, single shots, only cutting to a new angle when necessary, which successfully centers the focus of a scene exceptionally well. Additionally, the use of a low depth of field and manipulation of camera focus highly emphasizes control over the audience’s perception, utilizing some effective reveal shots. However, the found footage stands in stark contrast to this, featuring a bygone 4:3 ratio and highly saturated, bleeding colors. The footage feels quintessentially 90s, even though it is actually dated to 13 years prior (2012, dies inside).

Featuring little to no score to speak of, Missing Child Videotape carries an eerie, deafening silence throughout. Mostly consisting of general ambient sound, even this can take a back seat to deliver an unsettling level of quiescence, compounding the atmospheric tension derived entirely from the cast’s performances. While this technique does leave a lot of ‘dead air’ at times, this laconism certainly attains an uneasy atmosphere that works well with the bleak tone of the narrative. However, the few times this ‘iron curtain’ is lifted, a strong flurry of low-pitched drones assaults the audience after such a prolonged lack of sound–intensifying its impact.

An exceedingly unhurried tale of contrition, Missing Child Videotape is a gradual yet consistent descent into the effects of prolonged mournfulness and the damage a lack of closure can bring. With nuanced performances from the entire cast, a sombre yet gripping narrative with fantastic pacing, and an accoutre (lack of) score, the film is a highly rewarding, albeit melancholic watch that is sure to grip its audience until its final moments.

We watched Missing Child Videotape (2024) at this year’s Nippon Connection .

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