Warning: potential spoilers for Uzumaki

Junji Ito is one of the greatest, most well-known figures in horror, boasting classic manga titles like Tomie and Uzumaki, the latter of which has received an anime adaptation that debuted in September 2024. Being an avid horror fan myself, Junji Ito's name was constantly brought to my attention long before I began reading manga. And as I ventured further into the medium, I made sure to give Uzumaki a try, expecting my mind to be blown. Once I finished, I could only think one thought: that it was just alright.

To be truthful, I just didn't really get it. The art is some of the best I've come across to this day, and while the monstrously deformed horrors were effectively unsettling, something just wasn't coming across to me. I went on to read Tomie and felt largely the same about it that I did Uzumaki; great, unsettling art to which I felt a little distant, like I just couldn't connect to it. After largely walking away from Junji Ito's works, I decided to revisit Uzumaki when the anime was announced. And then it clicked.

Maybe it had something to do with becoming more familiar with the medium of manga, or maybe the lowered expectations removed the fog from my eyes; whatever the reason, I understood why Junji Ito was heralded as a titan of the genre. Not only did Uzumaki convince me of the artist's greatness, it moved me in a notable way.

Uzumaki is Junji Ito's Strange Magnum Opus

Though Strange, Uzumaki Is an Undeniable Masterpiece

There was something that distracted me during my first read-through of Uzumaki, and it was a big reason as to why I couldn't really connect with the story. Uzumaki is really weird. From the ambiguity of the antagonist of the series, a spiral, to the outlandish premises which lead to conflict throughout, I often had a hard time suspending disbelief in order to submerge myself in the narrative.

It wasn't until my return to the story that I realized that its trademark bizarreness only shielded me from what many of the stories were communicating. As all good horror does, Uzumaki hides the meat of its tales below the surface of its ongoing events. With a touch of masterful writing from Junji Ito, the overarching story is connected by a collection of terrifying substories touching on different themes and subjects.

The spiral finds its way into often mundane, normal events, as if to signal the societal fallout which seemingly unimportant daily happenings can perpetuate. Whether it be in the classroom, the streets of a small countryside town, or the maternity ward of a hospital, the spiral will manifest itself and doom whoever becomes caught in its path. And it wasn't until I returned to what I believed to be Uzumaki's strangest story that I understood the gravity of Junji Ito's magnum opus.

'Medusa' Tells a Powerful Tale of Losing One's Self to Social Influences

Though One of Uzumaki's Strangest Stories, Medusa Is Its Most Powerful

The spiral in itself played a large role in why I couldn't get a grasp on Uzumaki. Visually, it's a fantastic motif that Junji Ito consistently uses to create unnerving illustrations. On the same note, it was just far too outlandish for me to really become scared of it in any meaningful way. And when I came across the story's sixth chapter, titled, "Medusa", having it appear in characters' hair until they have a follicle-fueled showdown nearly lost me on its silliness.

On my next read, the chapter landed differently, and I finally began to make sense of what the story was doing. It's still an overwhelmingly silly premise, and I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if others are also put off by just how strange "Medusa" is. But, somehow, through its absurdity, Junji Ito manages to tell what may be Uzumaki's most powerful story in its sixth chapter. In the pursuit of attention, Kirie's classmate, Kyoko Sekino, loses herself to the hair she's become obsessed with, until nothing left of her remains.

The image of a withered, shriveled Sekino, her hair draining the life from her body, still haunts me long after I've finished the story. It's easy to get caught up in the tiring, endless search for attention, and it's even easier to lose one's self to it altogether. Junji Ito's portrayal of teenagers becoming so fixated on superficial details, to the point that it sucks the very life force from the body, is harrowing, despite the strange premise in which the message lies.

The Ambiguity of the Spiral Only Makes It More Terrifying

Despite having never been truly won over during my initial read-through of Uzumaki, I was still met with a heavy, unnerving feeling as I approached the story's end. The spiral itself did not scare me, it was just a pattern after all; an antagonist with no feeling, no motive to pin down. ittedly, it took far too long for me to realize that this ambiguous nature was exactly the reason the spiral was so terrifying.

Its appearance throughout the story didn't make me jump out of my seat, or even flinch, like a cheap jump scare in a bad scary movie. Rather, the spiral brings with it a looming sense of dread. As the story progresses and so many horrifying events occur, it trains the reader to associate it with those terrible happenings. Uzumaki's horror is found in the fear of what may happen when the spiral appears, just as it's found in what happens throughout the pages of the story.

The anticipated Uzumaki anime will very likely draw new eyes to this work, and the series deserves all the praise it gets. ittedly, I'm now a bit ashamed that I ever put Junji Ito's work into question. If his sickening body horror or haunting creature designs weren't enough to convince me, which they probably should have been, his writing throughout Uzumaki cemented his place among my favorite authors to have ever drawn manga. When it comes to horror, there may be no one better in the medium.