Aku wa sonzai shinai

Ryûsuke Hamaguchi's Evil Does Not Exist is a very slow burn of a film, a character study disguised as an eco-drama. Nestled in the serene Mizubiki Village, a community thrives on a deep connection to nature. Their tranquility is shattered by the arrival of slick Tokyo suits proposing a glamping resort-a luxurious "escape" to nature for city dwellers. What follows is a clash of values, a meditation on the complexities of progress, and the blurry line between good and evil.

Hamaguchi doesn't hit us over the head with environmental messages. Instead, he lets the beauty of the Japanese countryside speak for itself. Lush forests and tranquil rivers become characters, a stark contrast to the sterile, neon-lit world the city reps represent. This visual poetry is amplified by the film's score, a melancholic blend of strings and woodwinds that perfectly captures the tension between tradition and modernity.

The acting is understated, mirroring the film's pacing. Hitoshi Omika, as Takumi, the gruff but conflicted villager, delivers a nuanced performance. We see his internal struggle-the fear of change wrestling with the desire to protect his way of life. The Tokyo reps, played by Ryô Nishikawa and Ryûji Kosaka, are initially portrayed as villains, all smiles and empty promises. However, as the film progresses, their own vulnerabilities peek through, reminding us that there's rarely a clear-cut bad guy in real life.

The plot of Evil Does Not Exist unfolds deliberately, sometimes feeling glacial. There are long stretches of dialogue that, while beautifully written, could test the patience of viewers expecting a more action-oriented film. The ending, too, occurs at a point where there is no resolution to the story, leaving us to scratch our heads wondering what might happen rather than being told. But there is a reason for this. By ending the movie (but not the story) in this way, Hamaguchi forces us to confront our own perspectives on the story, a tactic that might backfire for those seeking easy answers. There aren't any.

This won't be a film for everyone. Forget it if you want a fast-paced thriller. You will be disappointed. However, if you appreciate slow cinema and nuanced character studies, Evil Does Not Exist offers a rewarding experience. While the untranslated credits rolled, I just sat there, reflecting on our relationship with nature, the allure of progress, and the shades of grey that exist between good and evil. If you enjoyed contemplative films like Burning or Drive My Car (I enjoyed Evil Does Not Exist more), Evil Does Not Exist is definitely worth a watch. Just be prepared for a slow burn and an ending that will leave you pondering.

In a way it starts very cleverly with very slow nature scenes, illustrating how closely connected these people are to their natural surroundings, how they live off and in harmony with the land. They gather wood for heating, they collect spring water for drinking and cooking, they recharge by walking long distances and admiring the stunning beauty of the surroundings, they memorize the different trees, they look out for wild animals, they help each other.

And then Hamaguchi is the perfect director to create a scene showing a public gathering with public speakers and audience interaction. He did a lengthy scene in Happy Hour as well. He can create meaningful dialogue with stand-out lines. And quite a bit of tension. And we move to the theme of capitalism corrupting everything in its path, with no regard for the destruction it leaves behind. It's facts, figures, stats, consultant advice, bending the law and using it to your advantage. The waste of five people is still below the accepted limit of pollution. It's better than city water anyway.

Then we dig deeper into the struggles of the glamping company workers, who are caught between empathizing with the locals and working for a man who wants to make money. He is not exactly a ruthless money man, he is actually trying to run a profitable business and sees the bottom line. The advisor is the cynical one. But the director takes the advice to heart. The funds are received and partially spent, he can't back down.

And then there's the enigmatic Takumi, the quiet, but trusted lumberjack, or jack of all trades and the poor hapless Takahashi, the former talent agent who experiences a sudden urge to commune with nature.

Slow start that kind of makes sense in the grand scheme of things, but it still tests your patience, and indeed a very odd, somewhat upsetting and inexplicable ending. The middle part is sublime but the rest didn't quite gel well together.

I read the director's explanation, but it's still not coming through in my opinion.

The opening shot is mesmerising, disorientating, as Yoshio Kitagawa's camera pans under the tree tops to Eiko Ishibashi's haunting score. The start of Ryusuke Hamaguchi's "Evil Does Not Exist" reminds of Bela Tarr's "Satantango" (1994), with a slow-moving, natural, extended take. Not as extreme, but it sets the tone for what comes next.

Mizubiki village is a quiet mountain town a manageable drive from Tokyo. A minor holiday destination, investors want to set-up a glamping site, which naturally meets resistance from the locals. Takumi (Hitoshi Omika), a local odd-job man is cautious, but willing to meet the proposals halfway if they take the local environment into consideration.

Takahashi (Ryuji Kosaka) and Mayuzumi (Ayaka Shibutani) are the employees tasked with meeting the locals and convincing them of the project. Sympathetic to their hosts, they are people doing a job they don't necessarily believe in, and so are neither one thing or the other. Seeming to connect with Takumi, they feel a solution can be reached, but the reality is they are met with contempt from both sides.

Straightaway this enraptures you and you are immediately drawn into the small village and its humble ways. The brilliance of nature is emphasised throughout, and the opening moments show this perfectly. And as Takahashi and Mayuzumi try to deliver the initial presentation, key members of the community voice the importance of the environment on their health, community, work and business.

The last of these is the only focus the glamping project has in mind, thinking of the pretty landscape, and not the impact a modern resort will have on it. As Alex Kerr emphasises in his book "Hidden Japan," once you have been somewhere, you've already ruined it. The village elder (Taijiro Tamura) puts his point across succinctly: those living upstream must think of their impact on those downstream.

Often, I've found Hamaguchi's films, while good, can feel a little awkward. Characters and their interactions can feel wooden (perhaps due to his use of novice actors) and their motivations hard to grasp. "Drive My Car" (2021) was a step-up for him, and "Evil Does Not Exist" is by far his strongest in its script. It feels tighter, with arguments better put forward, in both the initial presentation and Takahashi and Mayuzumi's drive back to the village, where they share their career decisions. It is much more natural, though Takahashi's sudden desire to change careers may be a bit much for some.

Takumi's daughter Hana (Ryo Nishikawa) is a key character, but perhaps from the standard use of a young girl to represent pure innocence. The true star of the film is the forest of its setting and the film's true lasting memory, working in unison with the soundtrack.

The title of the film is enigmatic, as is the atmosphere throughout. The isolation of the forest community, and their connection to nature, show an innocence. But clear in their desires, they show they will fight to keep what's theirs. Takahashi and Mayuzumi may be the face of the more sinister corporate body behind them, but also show themselves to be useless pawns, simply carrying out their job.

Is simple self-sufficiency more noble than misguidedly following orders from above for profits? The ending confuses this question, its incompleteness difficult to process. The real question is whether it is better to do bad to protect what you believe in, rather than trying to diplomatically do something you don't believe in out of expectation. Silence is complicit.

The forest is deep, and it's easy to lose yourself.

Politic1983.home.blog.

This surreal 2023 film by Hanaguchi, begins as a straight narrative begining with opening micro/macro shots of Japanese landscape. It focused on a young village situated by rivers which becomes a possible site for Toyko's tourist industry.

It follows rural villagers who are not right with the recent interest of their surroundings by outsiders. During a planning session between them and reps from the tourist company, they learned that a Toyko based firm wants to create a "glamping" vacation site for urban trotters.

Things begin to clash between reps and the locals. The representatives reach back to Tokyo office who assigns them to interact more with villagers, how to learn from them. A direct and humble interaction of Toyko reps and locals ensues.

The rest of the story, evolves a beautiful piece of surrealism. Playing with subtleties with useful shots of the natural landscape match with the notion of what is evil. It's the corporate greed, and it's reluctance to understand basic principles of life without business interest.

Obviously these topics are designed within a Japanese cultural context, the average movie viewers will probably miss the clues or references leading up to an very questionable climax - what just happened. Supposedly this was the subjective outcome desired by the film's director.

The film's director (Hanaguchi) had an open ended situation for viewers' interpretations. This film tackles alot of allegorical symbols, within the nature of the woods and the human behaviour.

I would describe this intriguing movie as made up of three main elements. The first one is the classical conflict between a rural community and the power of business here represented by a glamping (glamorous camping) project. This is the plot setting, but it is not the most important. The second element is represented by the consciousness and emotion of the characters, by their interactions inside the community and with the two representatives of the glamping company. The third element is the surprising and ambiguous ending where the title of the movie "Evil does not exist" becomes meaningful.

The collaboration of the director and the score composer Ishibashi Eiko is particularly interesting since the film originated from a request to create images to accompany a piece of music.