As if to convey the sentiment that spirits are a part of every day life, in Kwaidan there is no rhyme or reason as to why spirits appear or go away. For this reason alone, much of the horror is psychological. For example, the real horror of “Black Hair” is that the protagonist realizes he has wasted his life and there won’t be enough days to recover what he so callously tossed away in his youth. The second story, “The Woman of Snow” is one of my two favorites, both for the tale itself and for the acid-trip like set design. “Hoichi the Earless” is probably the piece de resistance of the quartet, which is interesting because it was originally edited out for U.S. distribution. Hoichi begans with a spectacular depiction of a battle between two warring clans. 700 years later, ghosts of the battle are drawn to a living, blind musician named Hoichi who has recently been taken in by priests at a Buddhist temple. The unfolding of what happens to Hoichi is nothing short of mesmerizing as well as a bit freaky. The last tale, “In a Cup of Tea,” reminded me of something one might see on the Twilight Zone or Outer Limits. Frankly it didn’t do much for me. Two major points about the film in general – the pacing is very, very deliberate. Second, its designation as “horror” should not, for modern audiences, be confused with “scary.” With its highly stylized, color-saturated cinematography, Kwaidan is a movie for patient film lovers, not for those seeking a hyperactive Hollywood blockbuster.