Hideshi Hino (日野日出志 Hino Hideshi, born April 19, 1946) is a Japanese manga artist who specializes in horror stories. His comics include Hell Baby, Hino Horrors, and Panorama of Hell. He also wrote and directed two of the Guinea Pig horror movies which were based on his manga: Flower of Flesh and Blood, which he also starred in, and Mermaid in a Manhole.
Llegué pensando que esta sería una historia sobre un monstruo aterrador y aunque el hombre cadáver impacta a todo aquel que lo ve, el verdadero miedo lo siente él. ¿Por qué no puede morir? ¿Quién es? ¿Hay remedio para su cuerpo putrefacto? La verdad es que acabó siendo una historia mucho más triste de lo que imaginaba.
Aunque es lo menos perturbador que he leído de Hino, sí ha sido lo más emotivo. Por momentos me recordó a "El intruso" de Lovecraft y siento que es un gran tributo a _Frankenstein_ de Mary Shelley. El inicio es maravilloso: “Ah... Mi cuerpo se está deshaciendo. La carne se pudre, los huesos se desmoronan y el alma se disipa a los cuatro vientos como si fuera neblina... Ah... Mi cuerpo se está deshaciendo”. Con su peculiar estilo que mezcla perfectamente lo monstruoso y lo tierno. Y el final es pura poesía.
A diferencia de otras las obras de Hideshi Hino, este manga se centra más en el sufrimiento psicológico que en el físico. Así y todo, sigue siendo una historia macabra y perturbadora visualmente, sobre todo gracias a la máscara siniestra que luce el protagonista para disimular su aspecto real. La persecución tortuosa que padece este personaje recuerda bastante a "Oda a Kirihito" de Tezuka, donde también se aborda el rechazo y ostracismo provocado por un cambio físico radical. Como es habitual, el dibujo simple y esquemático que caracteriza a Hino también recuerda al del Dios del manga.
"La carne se pudre, los huesos se desmoronan y el alma se disipa a los cuatro vientos. Como si fuera neblina... Ah... Mi cuerpo se está deshaciendo."
Si al vampiro le quitas la posibilidad que la sangre (de otros) le mantenga "vivo" y sí del Lázaro bíblico te preguntas qué le pasó luego de resucitar...Hideshi Hino te lo cuenta (a su manera).
El prota no es Lázaro, volviendo de entre los muertos, es un tipo que ya muerto sigue en este mundo mientras su cuerpo físico se va pudriendo. Clínicamente muerto, pero vivo por un último deseo que ha olvidado.
Readers familiar with the EC Comics classic Reflection of Death from Tales from the Crypt #23—or its earlier iteration in Bennett Cerf's Try and Stop Me, and later iteration in More Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark—might see Living Corpse as a sort of spiritual sequel. I certainly did. As a young reader encountering these haunting tales, I found myself wondering: what happens when someone realizes they're dead, yet remains trapped in a decaying body, still stumbling through a world they no longer belong to? Hideshi Hino’s Living Corpse provides a fascinating answer to that question, delivering both horror and unexpected beauty.
Living Corpse is similar to Hino’s Hellbaby in that it presents a horrific narrative that stands out for its surprising emotional depth. The titular corpse is deeply sympathetic, longing only to reunite with his family and causing harm solely by accident. His journey is both tragic and redemptive, culminating in a truly moving finale that offers genuine hope. For a story so steeped in darkness, this ending is refreshingly tender and bittersweet, showcasing Hino’s ability to blend horror with a sense of grace.
It’s also intriguing to consider how this tender, reflective work contrasts with Hino’s film career, particularly as the director of Flowers of Flesh and Blood, an infamously bleak piece that epitomizes the “sadistic cinema” of the 1970s and ’80s. In his manga, however, Hino crafts lyrical, poetic stories that feel worlds apart from the brutality of his most famous film. For this reason, I find Hino’s work more impactful than that of his popular successor, Junji Ito. While Ito’s technical skill and compelling visuals are undeniable, Hino’s stories reach for something deeper, resonating in a way that lingers long after the final page is turned.
Living Corpse was certainly worth the eighty-odd dollars I spent to acquire it, and it’s a shame that so much of Hino’s work remains out of print. Perhaps his Fleischer Brothers-inspired drawing style doesn’t appeal to fans accustomed to Ito’s more traditional horror aesthetics. But readers willing to explore Hino’s world may find themselves profoundly moved by his unique blend of horror and heart.
A few minor notes: the translator for this edition (and other volumes in the Hino Horror series by Dark Horse) makes the odd choice of giving characters heavy Cockney accents, which feels out of place in a Japanese setting. It can be jarring, though it doesn’t detract significantly from Hino’s storytelling. Additionally, the protagonist’s prayers to God—and their seeming effectiveness—initially struck me as culturally out of place, given the non-theistic nature of much Japanese spirituality. However, many Japanese horror tales do explore themes of heaven, hell, and the afterlife, so this choice ultimately felt reasonable within the story’s broader themes.
Living Corpse is a haunting, unexpectedly tender work by a master of horror, and a reminder that the genre can be as much about finding humanity as losing it.
In Living Corpse, Shinkai Yosuke doesn’t know where he came from. He wanders around in a place he doesn’t know where the people run away from him in fear for their lives. He has no idea why he is here or even who he is. Then he sees his face in a shop window. What a disgusting horrible creature. A rotting corpse that thinks and breathes and speaks. Surely this can’t be true? Who is Shinkai Yosuke and why is he in this seaside town?
The doctors who take him into their care have no idea either but subject Yosuke to further excruciating pain in an attempt to stop him rotting away to nothing, injecting him with preservative fluids and pumping giga-watts of electricity through his decaying body in a futile attempt to revive his cells .
As earlier mentioned, even the undead don’t escape the tortures of the degradation of the body. Hino never lets up on the mental and physical agony he subjects his ‘hero’ to. Following a fatal accident at the hospital where he is being held captive, Yosuke escapes and is quickly branded Public Enemy #1.
There is a slight negative aspect to this book but it has nothing to do with Hideshi Hino, more to do with the way the original Japanese has been translated into English. The offending scene involves Yosuke and a drunk, in a jail cell. It’s a really short scene, too – it just stands out as not up to the quality of the rest of the book. The drunk has this terrible colloquial English accent and it’s hard to discern whether it’s supposed to be Scottish, Australian or Germanic – this should have been dealt with at the editorial stage.
Overall, this is another great read from Hideshi Hino, with real human appeal and real human suffering. Will Yosuke find out why he is rotting away, leaving a trail of puss and maggots all over this seaside town? Will he discover anything about his past life? Will he return home?
Comme d'habitude avec le mangaka, l'histoire est assez surprenante et se veut horrifique. Elle est au final surtout dérangeante et triste, je l'ai moins appréciée que d'autres titres de l'auteur.