DAN DA DAN: Evil Eye continues the adventures of its central pair with an almost aggressive refusal to slow down. The story operates with a particular brand of genre-blender whiplash that feels unnervingly appropriate for our times.
We are reintroduced to Momo Ayase, the spirit medium, and Okarun, her compatriot cursed with alien abilities, characters who treat paranormal catastrophe as a slightly inconvenient after-school activity. Their dynamic remains a chaotic ballet of adolescent awkwardness and world-saving necessity.
Into this mix comes the next stage of the plot, centered on their friend Jiji. The mission seems straightforward enough for their line of work: travel to Jiji’s sleepy hometown, famous for its hot springs, and exorcise whatever is ailing his parents. But the film quickly signals that a simple haunted house is the least of their concerns.
A deep-seated local legend about a sacrificial serpent, a town that is just a little too quiet, and a populace with vacant smiles all point to a systemic rot. The air is thick with the promise of a very bad vacation.
An Ode to the Third Wheel
This cinematic installment is, in many ways, a showcase for Jiji, a character who upends the delicate equilibrium of the main duo. He arrives with the disposition of a human Labrador, an affability so pronounced it feels like a shield.
The film wisely avoids the pitfalls of the love triangle by building a separate, genuine friendship between Jiji and Okarun, founded on a shared fascination with urban legends. This small detail gives Jiji an anchor, preventing him from being defined solely by his relationship to Momo.
What follows is an exploration of his tragic origins and a dark symbiosis with the titular Evil Eye. His story is a potent examination of loneliness. It posits that an intense desire for connection, left to fester in isolation, can become a magnet for monstrous things.
The emotional weight of his predicament is substantial; it transforms him from a simple side character into a figure whose plight feels as vital as that of the original protagonists. By the story’s end, the trio feels not like a duo with an attachment, but a proper, three-pointed star.
Mirrors of Malice
The film presents its antagonists on two distinct registers of horror. First, there are the human villains, the Kito family. They are instruments of a mundane, almost bureaucratic evil, exuding a predatory energy that evokes the home-invasion dread of films like Funny Games.
Their power is not supernatural but social, a chilling depiction of how cruelty can become normalized within a closed system. They are an obstacle, yes, but a thematically rich one. The story once again places Momo in a situation of sexual threat, though the direction here leans into creating genuine discomfort, framing the sequence as dangerous rather than a source of dark humor.
Contrasting this grounded terror is the Kuragari Serpent Lord. This is a monster of a different sort—a colossal, Eldritch being that feels ripped from a forgotten myth. It is less a character and more a force of nature, a thing of immense power with its psychic assaults and a fatal, petrifying gaze. This is the Evil Eye, a being whose malice is not personal but elemental. It represents an escalation from human-scale evil to a cosmic threat that dwarfs the teenagers caught in its path.
The Synesthetic Heart
The animation, courtesy of Science Saru under directors Fuga Yamashiro and Abel Gongora, is a dizzying spectacle. The style is one of controlled chaos, a synesthetic experience where emotion is rendered through motion and color. Fight sequences explode in kaleidoscopic neon light, while melancholy flashbacks are washed in bleeding watercolors.
The action achieves a state of kinetic bliss, with one of Momo’s brawls against the Kito family channeling the manic choreography of a Stephen Chow film and a destructive chase sequence reinforcing the series’ signature mayhem. The electrifying score from Kensuke Ushio drives the pandemonium forward.
For all its visual noise, the film’s anchor is its emotional core. The relentless spectacle serves a surprisingly intimate purpose: charting the bonds of a found family. The friendship between the three protagonists provides a necessary grounding.
Their alliance is a small point of light against a backdrop of cosmic horrors, predatory townsfolk, and the general absurdity of being a teenager. The story uses its wild visual language to map the frantic, desperate, and ultimately affirming search for human connection.
Dan Da Dan: Evil Eye premiered in Asia on May 30, 2025, followed by releases in North America on June 6 and Europe on June 7.
Full Credits
Director: Fūga Yamashiro
Writers: Hiroshi Seko (screenplay), Yukinobu Tatsu (original manga)
Producers: Akifumi Fujio, Masanori Miyake, Yūma Takahashi
Cast (Japanese Voice Actors): Shion Wakayama (Momo Ayase), Natsuki Hanae (Okarun), Kaito Ishikawa (Jiji), Mayumi Tanaka (Turbo Granny), Mutsumi Tamura (Evil Eye)
Cast (English Voice Actors): Abby Trott (Momo Ayase), A.J. Beckles (Okarun), Aleks Le (Jiji)
Director of Photography (Cinematographer): Kazuto Izumida
Editor: Kiyoshi Hirose
Composer: Kensuke Ushio
The Review
DAN DA DAN: Evil Eye
DAN DA DAN: Evil Eye is less a film and more a televised event, yet it transcends its structural limitations with breathtaking visual artistry and surprising thematic depth. It uses its chaotic premise to explore poignant ideas about loneliness and the different textures of evil, from the mundane to the cosmic. While the narrative machinery can feel repetitive, the genuine heart of its characters and the sheer creative energy on display make it an essential, if unconventional, piece of animation that is both intelligent and wildly entertaining.
PROS
- Exceptional character development for Jiji, adding a new layer to the group dynamic.
- Stunning, kinetic animation and inventive art direction from Science Saru.
- Rich thematic exploration of loneliness, alienation, and the nature of evil.
- A strong emotional core grounded in the characters' friendships.
CONS
- The episodic structure is apparent and detracts from a true cinematic feel.
- The repeated use of sexual threat as a narrative device for Momo feels formulaic.
