Il male non esiste

Ryusuke Hamaguchi has made some interesting movies in his career like Drive My Car, Happy Hour, and Asako I & II. While I haven't been wowed by his works, I appreciate many aspects of his style and approach.

Throughout, this movie has some wonderful colorful productions, camerawork, sound designs and atmosphere which helped add layers of the nature landscapes and environment. The narrative provides some interesting themes of nature, conflict of interest, humans and humans vs. Nature issues and explores some interesting aspects that are strong. The performances are all pretty good as well.

However, I am a bit underwhelmed with certain aspects as I found some of the themes feeling a little uneven to work Hamaguchi is wanting to express. Especially when it comes to the characters as while I did found some of the characters interesting, I didn't feel too emotionally connected with their personalities and purpose which made it a bit difficult to fully invest at times.

The soundtrack is wonderful and the dialogue is solid. The film does suffer some pacing issues and with an ending that leaves to many interpretations which may be frustrating for some. Overall, despite it's flaws, it's mediative and nature experience made this movie pretty good.

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.

This film was supposed to be a 30 minute cinematic accompaniment to a score that the director's friend made, only that during the collection of video material Hamaguchi had this story idea and made a full feature film instead. The story starts off intriguing: a small Japanese community in the mountains is slightly challenged by the arrival of a company that wants to build a camping resort in their area without any knowledge of or interest in local issues or the damage they would do. There is even a long town hall discussion between the company representatives and the townsfolk which was truly inspiring. I mean, I can't imagine a European or American community reacting in such a measured, well mannered, well thought out and informed manner.

But this is where the movie veers into the absurd. People make life changing decisions in seconds, without being challenged by the ones around them - kind of like Hamaguchi's decision to finish the film the way he did, musical score and nature scenes take the place of plot and then it's one of those WTF endings. Presumably, the author wanted us to make our own mind about what the movie is about. Well, director-sama, that's the same thing as having nothing in particular to say.

The cinematography was good, the music excellent, the interactions between people natural, authentic, deep. The story was absolute rubbish.

Bottom line: in the end, a short cinematic companion to a music score became a very long and obtuse cinematic companion to a music score. Top marks for the music!

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.

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.