The backdrop of The Forest (2016) is Japan’s Aokigahara Forest, a real-world place at the base of Mt. Fuji famous for serving as the location of countless suicides. In the film, a woman named Sara (Natalie Dormer) enters the forest in search of her twin sister (also Dormer), who was seen entering and has not yet returned. In search of her, Sara encounters supernatural terrors that go beyond explanation.

The Forest is a horror film, but the actual history of Aokigahara is more tears than fears. For decades, people have come to the forest to hang themselves, overdose on medication, or get lost to the point they suffer dehydration or starvation. The lush forest full of rich, beautiful life is scattered with corpses and skeletons. The Forest does nothing to address this crisis in Japanese culture. Within the film, the behavior of people within the woods is treated as just a thing that happens— people go in and they don’t come out. Authorities brush the forest for bodies and don’t do much to stop people from entering (the characters have to throw a leg over a super secure two-foot high rope with a “do not enter” sign to access the forest.) In reality, the preventative measures are a bit more rigorous (Aokigihara contains signs urging those contemplating suicide to seek help, with messages like “Your life is a precious gift from your parents. Please think about your parents, siblings and children. Don’t keep it to yourself. Talk about your troubles.”) But what happens at Aokigahara is a national travesty in Japan and a primary public health concern, and unfortunately something the film whitewashes into a spooky setting for cheap scares. The Forest’s official website features a picture of a noose next to the words “Death - Are you next?”

Natalie Dormer and a ghoul in The Forest

The fact is, suicide is the leading cause of death for Japanese youths and young adults, a fact which has been connected to rampant bullying and the demanding, competitive nature of Japanese academics. During their post-academic years, many Japanese find it difficult to maintain steady work, adding to their stress. In 2014, Japanese suicides averaged 70 per day, or one every 20 minutes, totaling over 25,000 for the year. The stigma of suicide isn’t as high in Japanese culture as elsewhere in the world—the nobility of Kamikaze pilots during World War II and the fact most Japanese life insurance policies pay out in suicide cases are lingering reasons for high numbers, along with the belief that it is not socially acceptable—a weakness—to ask for help with mental health issues. These are points that should be changed as they lead to devastation of families and relationships. The association of honor with suicide is not going to solve the problem. Author Wataru Tsurumi wrote the million-selling Complete Manual of Suicide. It ­recommends Aokigahara as “the perfect place to die” and bodies discovered in the forest occasionally have the book with them.

The forest contains almost no animals. There are places where light doesn’t reach the ground, creating a calm atmosphere of solitude. Dubbed the “sea of trees,” the top of the forest looks like waves to those seeing it from above. Heavy iron deposits in the land cause compasses to malfunction and GPS devices have trouble working through the thickness, enabling the disorientation of those who enter. The Forest uses these truths, along with the real practice of running tape or rope between trees to signal the spot of a suicide, for horror effect. It is the second-most popular suicide location in the world, just behind the Golden Gate Bridge.

The Forest seems to desensitize the reality of what goes on at Aokigahara. It’s treated as simply something that happens. Sara is advised to stay out of the forest because “it will trick her,” as if the trees contain properties that break the mind and turn a sane person insane, further demonizing the mental illness from which real-world people who go to commit suicide are suffering. Sentiments like “people who go in don’t want to be found” are heard, as if those contemplating suicide are worth putting up signs for, but not worth physically attempting to save. The attitude of demonic or supernatural presence in the forest is counterproductive to discussions about mental health and the Japanese cultural epidemic of suicide. Granted, Japanese myth does speak of the yurei, or ghosts, which are the spirits haunting the forest. But meshing culture and mental health the way The Forest does is arguably risky.

The film’s director, Jason Zada, spoke about the yurei with Mirror. He said, “When we were in Japan, when I actually saw the forest and had a guide take us in, at the very end the sun was going down and we were leaving, he asked us, ‘Can I rub salt on your back and you rub salt on my back?’ And I said, ‘That’s a very odd request, but sure’, and I asked him why and he said, ‘Well, we believe that when you go to a place like this, that the Yurei will cling to your back and they’ll go home with you and haunt you at your house. So, by rubbing salt on your back, you get rid of them’. So, it’s just like this incredibly strange image that stuck in my head that people could be carrying around Yureis with them.”

Geologist Azusa Hayano has been studying the forest for decades. “For him,” writes The Daily Mail, “suicide in Japan has changed over the years. Whereas it was once the preserve of samurai, who would commit ritual ‘harakiri’ to preserve their honour, today it is merely a mark of social isolation in the modern world. ‘I think it’s impossible to die heroically by committing suicide,’ he says. Mr Hayano believes it is a symptom of an increasingly impersonal and lonely way of life.

Why the forest was chosen as the setting for a horror film is obvious, but the way the story is painted on that canvas is questionable.

Some facts about Japanese suicide, as presented by Mirror:

• Japan’s suicide rate is 60% higher than the global average and three times higher than in the UK.
• In 2014, 25,000 people – around 70 a day – took their own lives, mainly men. That was down from 34,427 in 2003.
• More Japanese children commit suicide on September 1, the start of the new school year, than any other day.
• Seppuku – ritual suicide – was part of the Samurai code, and Kamikaze pilots were seen as the bravest of the brave.
• “Isolation is the number one precursor for depression and suicide,” says Wataru Nishida, a psychologist at Tokyo’s Temple University.
• As Japan is not a Christian country, suicide is not seen as a sin.