The independent thriller takes a different approach to the traditional chase narrative, placing emotional vulnerability and human relationships at the center of its story rather than conventional action-driven suspense.

Directed by John Rosman, the film follows Jessica, played by , a young woman who is fleeing from circumstances that initially remain unclear. As the narrative unfolds, the reasons behind her desperate journey gradually emerge, reshaping the audience’s understanding of both her actions and the danger surrounding her.

Pursuing Jessica is Elsa, portrayed by , a professional tracker facing a personal crisis of her own. Elsa is struggling to come to terms with a diagnosis of motor neurone disease, a reality that increasingly influences her decisions and emotional state throughout the film.

The story avoids presenting clear heroes and villains. Instead, it develops its characters through shifting perspectives, encouraging viewers to reassess where their sympathies lie as new information becomes available. The result is a narrative that balances elements of thriller, horror and drama while focusing on the personal experiences of its central figures.

Rosman’s film also pays considerable attention to the lives of people who briefly cross Jessica’s path. Even minor characters are given moments that suggest deeper stories beyond the immediate plot, contributing to a broader sense of human interconnectedness.

While the premise contains the ingredients of a conventional pursuit thriller, the film largely sidesteps familiar genre expectations. Suspense is present, but it is often secondary to themes of mortality, isolation and the need for connection. The emotional and physical dimensions of human contact become recurring concerns as the story progresses.

Through its combination of horror elements and character-driven storytelling, “New Life” offers a more reflective experience than many films operating within similar genre territory. Its focus remains less on the mechanics of the chase and more on the people caught within it, examining how individuals respond to fear, uncertainty and the prospect of loss.

Genki Kawamura, the Japanese filmmaker, novelist and producer behind the new film Exit 8, says the adaptation of the minimalist horror video game was driven by a desire to explore guilt, emotional avoidance and the psychological unease of modern urban life.

The film, now in cinemas in the UK and Ireland, expands on the original independent game created by Kyoto-based solo developer Kotake Create. The game, also titled Exit 8, became widely known for its deceptively simple design: players are trapped in an endlessly repeating section of a Tokyo subway station and must identify subtle abnormalities in order to escape.

Kawamura said he was first drawn to the game because of both its visual simplicity and the way it generated highly personal reactions from players. Watching online streamers play it convinced him that the experience extended beyond game mechanics.He said that although the structure was minimal, each player created a different emotional narrative, and each reaction revealed something distinct about human behaviour.

That, he said, made it feel less like a conventional game and more like a psychological device.In the original version, players move through bright underground corridors, passing the same posters, the same commuter and the same locked doors repeatedly.

If something appears unusual such as a face changing expression or a silent commuter behaving differently the player must turn back. If nothing is wrong, they continue forward. Successfully identifying anomalies across eight consecutive loops leads to the exit.The game offers no explanation for why the player is trapped.

There is no backstory or explicit threat. Kawamura said that absence of narrative was part of its power, but it also meant the film adaptation required a stronger emotional framework.In the film, the protagonist is an ordinary commuter travelling on a crowded Tokyo train.

He witnesses another passenger confronting the mother of a crying baby but chooses not to intervene, instead turning up the music on his phone. Soon after, he receives a call from his former girlfriend, who tells him she is pregnant and asks what he intends to do next.

The combination of anxiety and avoidance triggers an asthma attack. When he exits the train, he finds himself alone in a deserted underground corridor he cannot leave. From there, the film shifts into a psychological loop where reality becomes unstable and the environment increasingly reflects his internal fears.Blood appears from air vents, lighting changes unpredictably and the same silent commuter becomes a recurring, threatening presence.

The station transforms from a public transit space into something closer to moral confinement.Kawamura said the concept began with his own daily experience commuting on the Tokyo subway. He described packed trains where passengers remain absorbed in their phones, disconnected from the people around them.

Even when obvious discomfort unfolds nearby, such as a crying child or public confrontation, many choose not to engage.He said modern life has normalised emotional distance. People consume constant images of war, violence and suffering through smartphones, yet continue scrolling past them.

Even without direct responsibility, he believes a quiet sense of guilt builds from repeated acts of passive disengagement.That emotional accumulation became the basis for the film’s central setting. Kawamura imagined what it would look like if suppressed guilt physically manifested as an anomaly inside a sterile underground corridor.

He described the tunnel as a form of purgatory, drawing inspiration from Divine Comedy. The yellow Exit 8 sign, which guides the player in the game, was reimagined as a symbolic presence something like a silent authority overseeing judgment and moral reckoning.

He said the game’s central rule if you notice something strange, turn back; if not, keep going mirrors the constant decisions people make in life. That rule became the structural and philosophical foundation of the film.

Exit 8 also arrives amid broader cultural interest in so-called liminal spaces environments such as empty office corridors, airport terminals, hotel lobbies and parking garages that feel familiar but psychologically unsettling.

These spaces have become increasingly common in internet horror culture and independent games.The trend was influenced heavily by “The Backrooms,” an online horror mythology that emerged from internet forums in 2019. It imagined an endless, empty space where people could become trapped after slipping out of ordinary reality.

The idea quickly spread across digital storytelling communities and inspired a wave of games and film projects, including A24’s upcoming adaptation of Backrooms.Exit 8 is part of that broader movement, but Kawamura said its power lies in restraint rather than spectacle.

He believes the simplicity of liminal spaces forces audiences inward rather than distracting them with external horror.He said such environments feel like dreams because they remove familiar emotional anchors.

Their emptiness allows people to project memory, anxiety and guilt onto the setting itself. The less detail there is, the more the mind fills in.For Kawamura, this reflects a larger shift in audience taste. Traditional horror built around monsters or ghosts has given way to stories where the fear comes from uncertainty, blurred perception and moral ambiguity.

He said viewers today are increasingly drawn to unclear boundaries between technology and reality, between games and cinema, and between external danger and internal fear.

That ambiguity, he argued, is more frightening than any visible threat because it forces people to confront parts of themselves they would rather avoid.“What is truly terrifying,” he said, “is opening the hidden door within ourselves.”