The Guard from Underground 1992

On her first day as a corporate art-purchase consultant, Makiko Kuno as Akiko Narushima steps into a demanding, impersonal office world. Her early days are colored by uncertainty about the job and by a lecherous manager, Ren Osugi as Kurume, whose behavior adds a layer of discomfort to the new hire’s routine.

The day takes an abrupt turn with the arrival of a hulking security guard: Fujimaru, Yutaka Matsushige as Fujimaru. He carries a secret that complicates the office dynamics from the start. He is a disgraced former sumo wrestler, currently under renewed investigation for the murder of his cheating lover and friend, a crime for which he narrowly avoided jail with an insanity plea during his first trial. This backstory looms over the present, casting a shadow on Akiko’s burgeoning career and the strange undercurrents in the workplace.

At first, Akiko’s challenges feel manageable—an uneasy fit in a corporate environment and the unsettling presence of her manager. But the tension deepens as Fujimaru becomes fixated on Akiko in a way that goes beyond a simple fascination. What begins as a subtle, creeping interest evolves into an all-consuming obsession after he finds Akiko’s earring. He begins wearing it and radio broadcasts a disturbing fixation that unsettles both Akiko and the people who share the office with them.

The situation escalates quickly. The guard’s fixation triggers a breakdown of normal operations: electricity and phones are shut down, plunging the building into a claustrophobic storm of fear and confusion as Fujimaru embarks on a murderous rampage. Trapped inside with a killer, Akiko and her coworkers must improvise ways to stay alive and seek help from the outside world, all while the looming threat of further violence hovers over every hallway and stairwell.

As fear tightens its grip, the group’s only chance for a calm, rational counterpoint comes in the form of the eccentric Mr. Hyodo, portrayed by Hatsunori Hasegawa as Hyodo. Akiko and the others seek shelter in Hyodo’s office, hoping to find a safe space or at least a moment to think clearly. The tension peaks when Fujimaru traps Akiko there and incapacitates Hyodo, turning the encounter into a tense confrontation. Akiko, striving to understand the motive behind the violence, asks Fujimaru to explain his actions. The response is cryptic and unsettling, giving Hyodo just enough time to revive and react, ultimately ending with Hyodo acting to defend Akiko by striking at Fujimaru with the broken blade of a paper cutter.

The confrontation leaves Fujimaru grievously injured. In a haunting moment, he tears Akiko’s earring from his own ear and asks that she remember him, a plea that lingers as a fragile, tragic memory. He then stumbles away, leaving Akiko and Hyodo to stumble toward safety. Once the dust begins to settle, the police arrive to discover the grim truth of Fujimaru’s fate in the building’s basement: he has hanged himself, a stark end to a man whose attack began with an ordinary office day and spiraled into a deadly, solitary vigil.

The basement scene is especially chilling, revealing an improvised shrine nearby—one that bears Akiko’s face, a disturbing symbol that underscores the obsessive, ruinous path Fujimaru walked. In the aftermath, Akiko and Hyodo escape the building, but the memory of the eerily personal shrine lingers, a stark reminder of the tragedy that unfolded within those walls. The film closes on the aftermath of violence, the unraveling of lives, and the quiet, unsettling question of what sparked such an obsessive fixation that could turn a routine workday into a nightmare.