Exit 8 Movie Turns Infinite Corridor Horror Into Psychological Drama at TIFF 2025

A new psychological horror film, Exit 8, has premiered at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival, offering a different kind of video game adaptation. Produced by Toho and directed by Genki Kawamura, the film is based on the 2023 indie horror walking simulator of the same name. While the game was built around eerie repetition and subtle observation, the movie reinterprets those mechanics as a metaphor for personal struggle, responsibility, and masculinity.

The original game Exit 8 placed the player in an endless corridor with one simple rule: if you see something abnormal, turn around. Success required correctly identifying eight abnormalities in a row to escape. The gameplay relied less on jump scares or conventional horror elements and more on a constant feeling of dread, built through silence, atmosphere, and the uncanny. With its minimalist approach, it quickly became a cult favorite in the horror gaming community.

Kawamura’s adaptation retains the unsettling environment of the infinite corridor but adds a narrative layer absent from the game. Instead of an anonymous figure, the film focuses on a protagonist played by Kazunari Ninomiya, a part-time worker with personal struggles. Before being trapped in the endless hallway, he speaks with a woman in a hospital who is pregnant, suggesting a complicated relationship and an uncertain future.

By connecting the endless loop of the corridor to the protagonist’s internal conflict, the film changes the meaning of Exit 8. The corridor becomes not just a puzzle but a representation of his hesitation about fatherhood. Until he comes to terms with his responsibilities, he remains caught in limbo. Kawamura uses this simple yet oppressive space to frame the character’s journey toward confronting his doubts.

The film also broadens the scope of the metaphor by introducing additional characters. Alongside Ninomiya’s protagonist, there is an older office worker and a child, both also navigating the corridor. The office worker struggles with the decision of whether to prioritize his own survival or to help the boy escape. This triad of male figures across different ages forms a generational study of masculinity, responsibility, and cycles of abandonment. Each character embodies a different stage of life, yet all confront the same looping environment.

The thematic reinforcement extends to the film’s sound design. The story opens with the protagonist listening to Maurice Ravel’s Bolero, a repetitive orchestral piece that cycles through the same melody with subtle variations. This choice mirrors the corridor’s endless repetition and underlines the protagonist’s struggle to break from the patterns of his own life. The corridor thus functions as both a literal trap and a symbolic stage where the cycles of indecision, escape, and responsibility are tested.

Exit 8 does not attempt to replicate the game’s exact experience, which was built on minimalist mechanics and player interpretation. Instead, it translates those ideas into a cinematic form that prioritizes symbolism and character development. The eerie corridor still appears with its lockers, signs, and banners, but the focus shifts from environmental abnormalities to the protagonist’s emotional state. By materializing the corridor as a reflection of inner conflict, Kawamura creates a story that both honors and departs from the game.

The adaptation is less about scares and more about unease. Viewers familiar with the game may find the film less frightening, but the shift toward psychological and symbolic horror opens it to a wider audience. The corridor becomes a metaphor for cycles of life and masculine roles within them, allowing the story to operate on multiple levels.

Kawamura’s approach contrasts with the trend of highly literal video game adaptations, which often attempt to replicate settings, lore, and action without exploring deeper themes. By using Exit 8’s structure as a framework for a new narrative, the director demonstrates that video games can inspire films that stand independently while still reflecting the core of the original material. This direction could provide a template for future adaptations, particularly of games with strong symbolic or atmospheric foundations.

The result is a film that reframes the simple gameplay loop into a meditation on life choices. The white corridor is no longer just a space where anomalies appear but a stage for self-reflection and transformation. Ninomiya’s character must face not only the strangeness of the environment but also his fears of responsibility and fatherhood. His journey is about deciding whether to continue running from commitment or to confront it directly.

Exit 8 also demonstrates how minimalistic design can lend itself to flexible storytelling. The original game offered few details about its protagonist, allowing players to project themselves into the corridor. The film takes the opposite route, grounding the experience in the life of a specific character. This change does not dilute the atmosphere but instead reimagines it as a metaphorical landscape. The shift from anonymity to personality marks the adaptation as transformative rather than derivative.

At TIFF 2025, Exit 8 premiered to audiences curious about how a walking simulator with such a straightforward premise could become a feature-length film. The reception has highlighted its ability to balance respect for the source material with a willingness to expand its themes. It is not a direct horror film in the conventional sense but a psychological exploration presented through a horror framework.

With no U.S. release date announced yet, the film’s wider reach remains uncertain. However, its premiere underscores how video game adaptations can move beyond surface-level retellings to explore more meaningful interpretations. By rethinking the corridor as a metaphor for cycles of responsibility, masculinity, and emotional uncertainty, Exit 8 sets itself apart as a distinctive entry in the growing field of video game-inspired cinema.

Source: Paulo Kawanishi, Polygon.