L'innocence

Lovingly detailed and accented by an aching score from Ryuichi Sakamoto, who died in March, Monster is one of the finest films of the year, and its structure - like its circle of characters - carries secrets that can only be unraveled through patience and empathy. By cutting things up and showing us the perils of fractured perspectives, the director, demonstrates that compassion is more than just a natural state of being. This absorbing, ambiguously titled movie builds to a moving finish, one that reaffirms Kore-eda's peerless skill at directing young actors in particular..

My Rating : 8.5/10.

I went into this movie with only an inkling of the plot because i enjoy kore-eda's films and was familiar with several of the actors. For a movie like this, the impact is greater if you don't know too many details and can reach your own conclusions without preconceived notions.

The story is constructed like a kaleidoscope. Just when you have pigeon holed people into a role, a quick twist presents a slightly different picture although the characters remain the same.

I thought it was thought provoking, emotional, and beautifully acted. Kore-eda has a genius for finding amazing children who create such nuanced and natural performances at a young age.

Ryuichi Sakamoto's music, the precise editing, the great use of anamorphic lenses, the surprisingly dynamic soundscape, the great use of the Ronin 4D compact camera system, Hirokazu's brilliant directing and surprisingly dynamic staging. All of this existed to serve the impeccable performances and the brilliant story.

Yes, it's very much a contemporary piece, made with contemporary gear, set in the present. Still, the story felt timeless. I think that's why comparisons to the classic Rashomon are often made about this film, though I find them incredibly stretched. We are never lied to like we would've been watching Rashomon in this film, we experience the story exactly as the characters experience them.

In a time where meta films like Babylon and Asteroid City are starting to re-examining their own value, and even big blockbusters like Oppenheimer and Dead Reckoning needed to remind a post-COVID audience of their "return to practicality" techniques to bring them to the cinemas, this is the one that truly reminded me of why I go to the movies in the first place.

Lightning in a bottle.

A very well constructed film exploring the complexity of how simple words and actions affect people in unexpected ways. Highly relatable in showing how, armed with only a superficial understanding of a person or situation, context can be manufactured to fit a particular narrative. But not only individuals, but institutions as well are put in the crosshairs. The bureaucratic value placed on appearance and propriety (perhaps more particularly in Japanese society but nevertheless universal) is also critiqued.

But the most telling point, and for me the one most central to the story, was what could have been dismissed as a throw-away line. But at its heart, the perfect example of how simple words create a life of their own. It's when the teacher, Mr. Hori, casually, and quite un-seriously, remarks in the PE class about what it is to be a man. At its core, that's what the film is about, understanding who you are as a human, and accepting it on your own terms. Confusion, misinterpretation, familial and societal expectations of how someone must be, or act, or love, can turn them into the other, the strange, the monster. And the film is overflowing with empathy for all those who become afflicted in one way or another.

If the film has one drawback, it's that the editing in the later stages of the film gets a bit loose. The time-jump and multiple perspective structure of the film works magnificently well for most of the film, but nearing the end, it does tend to drag a bit. But overall, a wonderfully engaging and skillfully produced film.

The perspective from which we view a situation infallibly provides us with a clear, irrefutable picture of its truthfulness, right? But what happens if we encounter someone who witnesses the same incident and comes away from it with a totally different interpretation? Both views can't be "right," can they? Or is it possible that none of us can see the totality of a scenario and claim to know everything about it? That's the core takeaway from director Kore-eda Hirokazu's latest feature, an ambitious, skillfully crafted tale told from multiple vantage points, all of them "correct" in their own right, despite the myriad differences that distinguish them from one another, a storytelling technique first developed by Japanese master filmmaker Akira Kurosawa in the screen classic "Rashomon" (1950). Kore-eda's cinematic homage to the famed auteur, told in three separate but interconnected segments, focuses on the exploits of a rebellious pre-teen (Soya Kurokawa) seemingly prone to acting out as a bully. The youth's unpredictable behavior, however, doesn't tell the whole story. His actions appear to be cryptically interwoven with those of his overly protective widowed mother (Sakura Ando), his.young middle school teacher (Eita Nagayama), his aging, softspoken principal (Yuko Tanaka), and his effervescent best friend (Hinata Hiiragi), many of whom aren't always what they seem to be. There are forces at work here that are a cause for concern, prompting the often-asked question, "Who is the monster?", a query that provides the inspiration for this film's title. It's intriguing to watch how the picture's various story threads come together, reminding us of the old adage of not judging a book by its cover, poignantly illustrating that, no matter how much we may think we know about a particular situation, there's a good chance we'll never get a complete picture of it. Kore-eda serves up an eye-opening tale, one that gives us pause to think about our impressions and preconceptions in an age when many of us are all too quick to superficially judge what we see - and in a frequently flawed framework at that. The picture could stand to be a little more swiftly paced at times (especially in the final act), but this is arguably the director's best and most sensitive work to date, one that, we can only hope, will have the kind of profound impact we need in an age where open-mindedness and tolerance are traits we could all stand to develop to a much greater degree - particularly when pieces of the puzzle are missing.