Best Wishes to All (2022) [Shudder film review]
I went into Best Wishes to All completely blind, knowing only that it was a Japanese horror film that had been generating serious buzz since its Shudder debut on June 13, 2025. What I discovered was one of the most unsettling and thought-provoking horror films I’ve encountered in years – a movie that starts as a seemingly straightforward family visit and evolves into a nightmarish allegory about the true cost of happiness in modern society. Yûta Shimotsu’s feature debut, expanded from his acclaimed 2022 short film, is the kind of horror that burrows under your skin and stays there long after the credits roll.
Best Wishes to All represents everything I love about discovering hidden gems through streaming platforms like Shudder. This isn’t a film that relies on jump scares or gore for effect (though it certainly has both when needed). Instead, it builds an atmosphere of creeping dread that gradually reveals itself to be commenting on some of the darkest aspects of human nature and social structures. By the time you realize what you’re really watching, it’s too late to look away.
Table of Contents
The Perfect Friday the 13th Discovery
The timing of Best Wishes to All’s Shudder debut couldn’t have been more perfect – arriving on Friday the 13th in June 2025 feels like the streaming service knew exactly what kind of unnerving experience they were unleashing. Having caught the film during its first weekend on the platform, I can say that Shudder has delivered another winner for horror fans looking for something genuinely different.
The film follows an unnamed nursing student (Kotone Furukawa) who takes a break from her Tokyo studies to visit her grandparents in the countryside. She’s the kind of idealistic young woman who helps elderly strangers cross the street and genuinely believes in the power of caring for others. Her grandparents seem delighted to see her, preparing homemade miso and asking repeatedly if she’s happy. But there’s something off about their behavior, and the mysterious locked room upstairs holds secrets that will shatter everything she believes about happiness, family, and the cost of comfort.
What makes Best Wishes to All so effective is how it establishes normalcy before slowly revealing the horror lurking beneath. The grandparents’ house feels authentically lived-in, their interactions seem genuinely loving, and the rural setting provides a peaceful contrast to Tokyo’s urban stress. Shimotsu takes his time building this foundation before pulling it out from under both his protagonist and the audience.
Yûta Shimotsu: A Director Who Understands Horror
Director Yûta Shimotsu demonstrates remarkable control over tone and pacing in what is technically his feature debut (though he expanded the concept from his own 2022 short film of the same name). Best Wishes to All succeeds because Shimotsu understands that the most effective horror comes from concepts that feel plausible, even when they’re taken to extreme conclusions.
The film’s central conceit – that happiness is a finite resource that can only be achieved at the expense of others’ suffering – works because it reflects uncomfortable truths about how modern society actually functions. We live in a world where our convenience often comes at the cost of others’ exploitation, where our happiness frequently depends on remaining willfully ignorant of the suffering that makes our lifestyle possible.
Shimotsu doesn’t beat audiences over the head with this message. Instead, he allows the horror to emerge naturally from the logical extension of these ideas. The family’s “happiness ritual” becomes a grotesque literalization of capitalism’s hidden costs, presented through the lens of J-horror tradition but filtered through contemporary anxieties about aging, isolation, and social responsibility.
The director’s background in commercial filmmaking serves him well here, as he knows how to present disturbing imagery without losing the audience. Best Wishes to All contains some genuinely shocking moments – characters attempting to sew their own eyes shut, brutal “accidents” with farm equipment, and the reveal of what’s been happening in that upstairs room – but these moments feel earned rather than exploitative.
Kotone Furukawa: Anchoring the Nightmare
Kotone Furukawa delivers a remarkable performance as the nursing student whose worldview gets systematically dismantled over the course of 89 minutes. Her character begins as almost naively optimistic, someone who genuinely believes that caring for others is not just noble but necessary for society to function. Furukawa makes this idealism feel authentic rather than saccharine, which makes her eventual transformation all the more devastating.
What impressed me most about Furukawa’s work is how she handles the character’s gradual realization that everything she’s believed about her family and her world has been a lie. The moment when she discovers the truth about her grandparents’ happiness is played with perfect horror – not screaming terror, but the kind of soul-deep revulsion that comes from understanding that you’ve been complicit in something monstrous without knowing it.
The supporting cast, particularly the actors playing the grandparents (Masashi Arifuku and Yoshiko Inuyama), deserves significant credit for making the film’s more extreme elements feel grounded. Their performances walk the difficult line between seeming like loving grandparents and revealing themselves as people who’ve made peace with participating in unspeakable acts. The way they ask “Are you happy?” throughout the film becomes increasingly sinister as we understand what they actually mean.
Kôya Matsudai also delivers strong work as the young painter who represents the only other person in town questioning the status quo. His character’s arc provides some of the film’s most heartbreaking moments, and his ultimate fate serves as a warning about what happens to those who refuse to participate in the system.
The Takashi Shimizu Connection
The involvement of Takashi Shimizu (director of Ju-On: The Grudge) as producer makes perfect sense once you experience Best Wishes to All. Like Shimizu’s best work, this film understands that J-horror works best when it taps into deeper cultural anxieties rather than relying purely on supernatural scares.
Best Wishes to All continues the J-horror tradition of making everyday domestic spaces feel threatening, but it updates the genre’s concerns for contemporary Japan. Instead of vengeful spirits, we get the horror of social conformity and the willingness to participate in cruelty for the sake of personal comfort. The film’s unnamed characters reinforce the sense that this is less a specific story than a universal parable about human nature.
The film also benefits from Shimizu’s understanding of how to build atmospheric dread. The pacing allows audiences to settle into the rural setting before gradually introducing elements that don’t quite fit. By the time the full scope of the horror is revealed, we’re already invested in the characters and their world, making the revelations hit harder.
A Modern J-Horror Masterpiece
Critics have been calling Best Wishes to All one of the best Japanese horror films in decades, and after experiencing it firsthand, I understand the enthusiasm. The film represents a successful evolution of J-horror for contemporary audiences, maintaining the genre’s signature atmosphere while addressing modern concerns about society, aging, and moral responsibility.
The film won the “Scariest Feature” award at the 2025 Overlook Film Festival, and it’s easy to see why. Best Wishes to All doesn’t just want to scare you; it wants to make you uncomfortable with your own complicity in systems that cause suffering. The horror comes not just from what happens to the characters, but from recognizing ourselves in their choices.
What sets Best Wishes to All apart from many contemporary horror films is its willingness to follow its premise to its logical conclusion. Many films would have pulled back from the implications of their central concept, but Shimotsu commits fully to exploring what it means to choose happiness over morality. The film’s ending is both inevitable and devastating, offering no easy comfort for either the characters or the audience.
Shudder’s Perfect Platform for Discovery
Shudder’s decision to acquire Best Wishes to All represents exactly the kind of curation that makes the platform essential for horror fans. This is a film that might have struggled to find its audience through traditional theatrical distribution, but streaming allows it to reach viewers who are specifically looking for challenging, thoughtful horror.
The film’s June 13th debut date feels perfectly chosen, giving horror fans something genuinely unsettling to discover during the summer months when the genre often skews toward lighter fare. Best Wishes to All demands the kind of focused attention that streaming can provide – this isn’t background viewing, but a film that rewards careful watching and rewards viewers who engage with its themes.
Having Best Wishes to All available on Shudder also means it can find its natural audience among viewers who appreciate international horror and aren’t put off by subtitles. The film’s themes about social responsibility and the cost of comfort are universal enough to translate across cultures, but its specific commentary on Japanese society adds layers for viewers willing to engage with its cultural context.
From Short to Feature: A Successful Expansion
The journey of Best Wishes to All from Shimotsu’s 2022 short film to this feature-length version demonstrates how to successfully expand a concept without losing its essential power. Rather than simply padding the original idea, Shimotsu uses the additional runtime to develop the world and characters more fully, allowing the horror to build gradually rather than hitting audiences immediately.
The original 11-minute short focused primarily on the initial discovery of something wrong in the grandparents’ house, but the feature film gives us time to understand the protagonist’s worldview before systematically destroying it. This expansion allows for much more character development and makes the ultimate revelations feel more earned.
The feature version also benefits from higher production values and more accomplished performances, particularly from Furukawa in the lead role. While the short film was effective as a proof of concept, the feature allows Shimotsu to fully realize his vision and create something that feels substantial rather than merely promising.
The Cost of Happiness: A Universal Theme
At its core, Best Wishes to All asks uncomfortable questions about what we’re willing to sacrifice for our own comfort and happiness. The film’s central metaphor – that happiness is a zero-sum game where someone must suffer for others to thrive – feels disturbingly relevant to contemporary global politics and economics.
The genius of Shimotsu’s approach is how he makes this abstract concept viscerally horrifying. By literalizing the idea that our happiness comes at others’ expense, Best Wishes to All forces viewers to confront truths we usually prefer to ignore. The film doesn’t offer easy answers or suggest simple solutions; instead, it presents the problem in its full, terrible complexity.
The film’s treatment of its protagonist’s moral awakening feels particularly relevant to younger viewers who are increasingly aware of how their lifestyle choices impact others. The nursing student’s journey from idealistic helper to someone who must choose between comfort and conscience mirrors the experience of anyone who’s ever had to confront the true cost of their way of life.
Technical Mastery on a Modest Budget
Despite obvious budget constraints, Best Wishes to All achieves remarkable technical polish. Ryuto Iwabuchi’s cinematography captures both the beauty of the rural setting and the claustrophobic horror of the family home, using natural lighting and careful framing to create an atmosphere that feels both authentic and deeply unsettling.
The film’s sound design deserves particular praise for how it handles the transition between comfort and horror. The quiet domestic sounds of cooking and conversation gradually give way to more disturbing audio cues, creating an sonic landscape that reflects the protagonist’s growing awareness of her family’s secret.
Shimotsu’s editing maintains a careful pace that allows scenes to breathe while building inexorable tension. The film never feels rushed, but it also never wastes time, using its 89-minute runtime efficiently to develop characters and build to its devastating climax.
A Personal Reflection
As someone who covers horror films regularly for AndersonVision, I’m always looking for movies that do something genuinely different with familiar elements. Best Wishes to All succeeds because it uses the framework of J-horror to examine contemporary social issues in ways that feel both specific and universal.
The film reminded me why I love international horror – it comes from a different cultural perspective but addresses concerns that resonate globally. The specific details about Japanese society and family structures provide context, but the broader themes about moral responsibility and the cost of comfort speak to anyone living in the modern world.
What stayed with me most after watching Best Wishes to All was its refusal to provide easy answers. The film presents its characters with impossible choices and doesn’t pretend there are simple solutions to complex moral problems. In an era of increasingly polarized discourse, this kind of moral complexity feels both refreshing and necessary.
The Verdict: Essential Shudder Viewing
Best Wishes to All represents everything that makes Shudder valuable as a platform for horror discovery. This is exactly the kind of film that deserves to find an audience beyond its native country, and streaming provides the perfect way for it to reach viewers who might never have encountered it otherwise.
For horror fans, Best Wishes to All offers genuinely effective scares wrapped around thoughtful social commentary. For viewers interested in international cinema, it provides a window into contemporary Japanese filmmaking and the evolution of J-horror. Most importantly, for anyone willing to engage with challenging material, it offers a viewing experience that will linger long after the credits roll.
While the film isn’t perfect – some moments feel slightly over-calculated, and the allegory occasionally becomes heavy-handed – it succeeds where it matters most: creating a horror experience that feels both viscerally effective and intellectually engaging. Best Wishes to All proves that the best horror films don’t just want to scare you; they want to make you think about why you’re scared and what that fear reveals about yourself and your world.
