Escape the Terrifying Time Loop in Exit 8 Trailer

It begins quietly, not with a shout but a soft murmur. A man meanders down a sterile hallway, his gaze fixed and his steps deliberate. There’s no soundtrack, no sudden jolts—just the soft buzzing of fluorescent lights accompanied by the gradual decline of sanity. This is Exit 8—a time loop horror that isn’t focused on frightening you with spectral figures or creatures, but rather the suffocating anxiety of sameness, the sensation of being observed by an unseen entity, and the unsettling realization that you’ve encountered the same vending machine multiple times without any notion of where Exit 8 lies.

Having viewed numerous looping narratives, I found Groundhog Day to be delightful, Triangle vicious, Coherence clever, and Severance precise. However, Exit 8 is the first film that made me feel as though I was losing my mind. Indeed, it draws inspiration from a video game—The Exit 8, purchasable on Steam—and the influence is palpable, yet beneficial. It captures the best aspects of gaming: the meticulous, detail-focused gameplay where overlooking even a minor detail can lead to starting over. This film mirrors that same principle.

Featuring Kazunari Ninomiya and Yamato Kochi, the story revolves around a man stuck in a seemingly never-ending subway tunnel. He must observe keenly, miss no detail, and, above all, discover Exit 8. However, with each mistake, the loop resets—be it an incorrectly placed poster, an unintended step, or a fleeting flicker of light—and he’s thrust back to square one.

The promotional trailer, presented by Umbrella Entertainment, exudes a sterile eeriness—akin to a Saw film sans the gore, or The Shining without the axe-wielding. It debuted at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival during the Midnight section, which feels apt. This isn’t your standard popcorn horror; it’s the type of film that lingers in your mind, prompting you to question reality the next time you pass through a subway station.

Director Genki Kawamura has a history of crafting intricate narratives. He has previously contributed to Mirai, Suzume, and The Colors Within. In this film, he trades warmth for discomfort. The script, co-authored with Hirase Kentaro, is concise—no unnecessary dialogue. Just rules. And those rules are meant to be ignored or, at the very least, difficult to follow when reality continuously morphs around you.

I must confess, I am somewhat fatigued by the time loop concept. It has been exploited, stretched, and repeated more times than I can count. Yet, Exit 8 takes a different approach. It embraces the monotony and turns it into the horror element itself. There’s no reset option, no justification. Just a man, a hallway, and the gradual disintegration of his grasp on reality.

And I appreciate that. I admire its refusal to provide explanations. I value that it allows the audience to engage, to lean in, and to perceive the irregularities. I appreciate that it does not present a monster to combat—only oneself, your attention span, and your ability to discern reality from illusion.

This film may not be for everyone. It’s not loud or extravagant. It won’t win any awards for special effects. However, if you’re someone who relishes atmospheric storytelling and finds discomfort in what’s implied rather than what’s overtly displayed—this is a must-see.

Japan will be the first to experience it, launching this August. There’s currently no news on a U.S. release, but I’ll certainly be keeping my ear to the ground. If you’re anything like me—someone who remembers the impactful experiences of Cube or The Others—you’ll want to seek out Exit 8 when it finally premieres.

Just try not to blink.