Tag (2015)

Tag is the kind of horror-action fever dream only Sion Sono would dare to make: a film that sprints full-tilt from one jaw-dropping set piece to the next while quietly, sharply interrogating what it means to live in a world that treats young women as disposable. Its violence is outrageous and often surreal—like a nightmare that keeps changing rooms—yet there’s a strange clarity to the way it turns chaos into theme, using identity shifts and relentless pursuit to build a feminist undercurrent beneath the carnage. The vibe is energetic, audacious, and darkly playful, the sort of movie that leaves you rattled and oddly exhilarated because it’s always one step ahead of your expectations. If you’re sensitive to extreme gore or prefer tidy logic over dream logic, it may not be your ride—but if you want horror that feels alive, angry, and unforgettable, Tag is absolutely worth the plunge.

Tag is Sion Sono trying to turn teen-girl horror into a surreal fever dream about identity, control, and constant reinvention, and he commits to the bit with relentless momentum. The problem is that it often plays like a string of shocking set pieces stitched together by dream logic, so if you need coherent rules, emotional grounding, or clean plotting, you’ll likely find it uneven and frustrating. The effects and stylized violence can look cheap or cartoonish, and the film’s “look how wild I can get” excess sometimes drowns out whatever point it’s reaching for. If you’re game for bizarre, provocative imagery and don’t mind confusion as part of the ride, it’s memorable; if you want tight horror-action with satisfying answers, this probably isn’t your night.