Não Fui Eu

A young man on his way to a job interview is wrongly accused of groping a high-school girl on the train. He consistently denies the crime. But he is detained by the police and then charged. Most of the film consists of the numerous court sessions, and I found it totally gripping all the way.

The point of the film is that the Japanese justice system is totally unjust. Astonishingly, 99.9% of defendants are found guilty. In Japan there are no juries - judges make the decisions themselves. (This system is going to change in a few years, so that for serious crimes the verdict is decided by judges and small juries together. But who knows whether this will make the system more just. Many Japanese people might feel a strong pressure to conform with authority and find the defendant guilty even if they don't think they actually are.)

In the film we get an excellent look at how evil the system is. For a start, in Japan, the police can hold anyone for ten days without charge, and an extra thirteen days (I think) if the public prosecutor agrees. This is a very long time to be held without charge! The police repeatedly tell Teppei that if he confesses then he'll just be able to walk out of the police station - "it's only groping, it's just like a parking offence." But this is coercion and untrue. If he confesses, he can easily be charged and convicted. So the police are not allowed to say this. And in court, under oath, one police officer perjures himself by denying that he ever said it.

Someone in the film says that one problem with the system is that judges get regarded well and promoted if they deal with their cases quickly and find most defendants guilty. And judges are public employees (civil servants), so they naturally want to side with the police and the public prosecutors against some poor defendant they don't even know. But they're judges! Surely they should have enough moral fibre to put justice ahead of their personal careers.

So for people living in Japan, this is a very scary film. Innocence is no defence. For me the really shocking thing was that the judge and the police were outright evil. (Actually the judge changes half-way through the trial. The first judge seemed like a good man - he told some students, "The highest responsibility of a judge is to not find innocent people guilty.")

What I wanted to know was: what proportion of people found guilty in Japanese courts actually are guilty? Obviously there's no easy way to find this out. But perhaps a foreign lawyer or judge could read the transcripts of about a hundred Japanese criminal court cases, and say whether they think the person should have been convicted assuming that guilt has to be proved beyond all reasonable doubt. I think this would be an interesting exercise, though it is doubtless much more difficult than I imagine.

The other thing I wanted to know was: what should you do if you are arrested in Japan? If you confess, the best thing that can happen is you settle out of court and if it's a groping case pay the victim about 2 million yen (US$20,000). Or they might charge you, and since you confessed, you are certain to be convicted. If you don't confess, you spend loads of money on lawyers, spend a year of your life going through a terrible experience like Teppei in this film, and then eventually get convicted anyway. What a nightmare.

The director says he hopes lots of people around the world will watch this film. However, this can't be because the story has relevance to people in other countries - most countries don't have such crowded trains, so many men who want to grope teenage girls, or such bad justice systems. Perhaps he wants to bring shame on Japan and international condemnation of its justice system.

Anyway, I highly recommend the official English website (http://www.soreboku.jp/eng/ (this page has disappeared; use web.archive.org to find an archived copy)). It is only one page, but very interesting to read.

Incidentally, the film's official website gives the English title as "I just didn't do it". But the Japanese title might be more accurately translated as "I still didn't do it". When reading this out loud, "still" should be emphasized to make the meaning clear (which is maybe why they chose "just" instead). "Soredemo boku wa yattenai" is what you might say after someone talks at you for a long time, telling you how bad you are for doing something and how damning the evidence against you is.

A man falsely accused of groping fights for his innocence. Groping leaves no evidence, and the Japanese courtrooms are heavily biased against the offender.

"Soredemo" is one of the greatest Japanese film I've seen to date. This movie deals with the horrifying truths behind the Japanese court system. Life-altering and inspirational movie. I haven't seen Kase Ryou in film before, but he handled this difficult role perfectly, excellent control of his emotions. The supporting cast is filled with actors I consider to be the most talented in acting skills, and they all gave great performances. Casting was incredibly well-done.

This movie was directed by the same person who did "Shall We Dance?" and the lead actor in that movie, Yakusho Kouji appears as the main lawyer. Direction, screenplay, and the story were absolutely perfect.

A must-watch film.

I applaud the film director, Masayuki Suo, for having the courage to put out such a poignant film that speaks volumes about Japan's flawed justice system as a Japanese citizen. The 99.9% guilty rate is a reality not taken seriously by foreigners and many of those living in Japan. As a foreigner, it was interesting to see how laws are applied within the context of such a seemingly modernized and developed country. We follow the main character, Teppei, who is caught at the wrong place at the wrong time as he is accused of committing a crime he did not commit. With the assumption that standing by his innocence will set him free quickly and painlessly, we soon learn about the psychological battle he and those close to him have to battle.

Japan's judicial system is very different from westernized systems. In Canada for instance, much of our outcries and screams of injustice belies on the fact that the justice system "protects" criminals. More guilty people walk away or serve light sentences for crimes committed here. In Japan, it is quite the opposite and it makes one ponder... how many innocent people exactly are locked up? How easy is it for individuals to take advantage on that "trust" and falsely accuse another person of a crime they did not commit for the purpose of a hefty out-of-court settlement? In all, this film was excellent and is an important tool for us to reflect upon how "justice" is applied in different nations. It is exceptionally accurate in its portrayals of the daily ins and outs of those in Japanese jails. To assume that the Japanese system "can't really be THAT bad" is a slap in the face to all those who had to undergo that kind of psychological hardship as INNOCENT men and women. I am saying this as a fact. My boyfriend had spent close to a month in jail with accusations for a crime he did NOT commit. The prosecutor's only goal is to dig up any kind of confession by any means necessary - verbal coercion, bending stories, refusing or providing menial legal counsel, etc. When your ultimate verdict is guilty from the start, what kind of justice does an innocent individual have left? Is it right for an innocent man to say that he is guilty when he is absolutely innocent? Think about that.

The film follows the procedures of an unfortunate man as he is arrested, indicted, and tried for groping, a criminal offense. Throughout, the audience is confronted with moral dilemmas, questions on the most basic, most fundamental principles of the justice system and court procedure. Of course, the basic tenet is "innocent until proved guilty," but how does a court truly guarantee such? How does a justice system work efficiently without error? How should the justice system correct itself when there is a mistake? And how should the defendant act when he is wrongly accused? These questions are relevant to any nation, not just Japan.

Despite all the considerations of a highly developed democratic system, the main character, Teppei, still finds himself in the most unfortunate situation of being indicted for a crime he did not commit. Japan has checks and balances different from the United States or other western nations. Most innocent people are freed in the Kensatsu (something similar to the prosecutor) and are never indicted. In a sense, there is a court involving investigation, before the actual court. That a defendant, before entering a court room, has already been found guilty in two separate investigations renders the court a place to merely decide what the punishment should be. This is the reality of 99.9% guilty rate (which includes those who plead guilty). Teppei finds himself in the unlucky situation where he actually gets indicted despite being innocent.

After seeing this movie, many people, especially non-Japanese, will get the wrong impression of the Japanese justice system, which is a lot more fair than this film gives credit to. Regardless, the film presents a very valuable and justified perspective of the way criminal cases are handled in Japan and forces us to contemplate the concept of courts regardless of nation.

Two ironies attest to critiquing this film a year after it was submitted to the 2008 Oscars for Best Foreign Language Film. First of all, this year, 2009, saw the Japanese feature Okuribito scoop that very award, a film directed by a man whose early credits include a long-running 'train molester' series, a sniggering look at the titillation gained from the sport of groping vulnerable-but-loving-it females on crowded commuter trains.

The second irony is that the Japanese Supreme Court recently overturned a guilty verdict on a man convicted of such a crime, citing the lack of evidence and due procedure on the part of police and prosecutors.

Okuribito's debt to Suo's film is tenuous, but the Supreme Court decision seems unlikely had Sore Demo not been made. The film highlights the primitive and highly dubious procedures that infest the Japanese judicial system, where habeas corpus is trampled upon and a benign and apathetic populace conspire by neglect in the crushing of innocents. The scale of the molester problem is apparent to any visitor to these shores who spends time on commuter trains - Women Only carriages are now the norm at rush-hour, a far cry from the halcyon days previously celebrated by the director of Okuribito, when 'how to molest' programmes were broadcast on mainstream TV channels. Times have changed, and how.

Suo elects to tell the tale as an Educational film, attempting to edify his audience on the corruption of the Japanese judiciary from the base assumption that they know nothing. Such stylistics have come unstuck before in Nihon no Ichiban Kuroi Natsu, where the didactic tone fails to encapsulate the social ramifications of the material it addresses. But Suo's film does not go off on that tangent, presenting as its innocent in need of education a single man falsely accused in a groping incident. He is a decent, loved man who finds circumstances piling up against him in a country he previously, naively, accepted as fundamentally good. Ryo Kase does excellent work as meek Teppei, who puts up with his treatment initially unaware of the hole that is being dug for him. His resolve not to opt for the easy 'guilty' verdict that will secure quick release is a deep moral core by contrast lacking in the police, judges, fourth estate and even his own solicitor.

The preaching can be a bit heavy-handed at times, and the film is at least 30 minutes too long. Some dubious side characters are overdrawn, such as an effeminate cell-mate thrown on stage to provide giggles and more leadership for Teppei. Such small qualms aside, this movie is an epochal event, an important film, that highlights an incredible, mean-spirited flaw in Japanese society, that the recent Supreme Court decision may finally relegate to history.

Suo's direction is spare and unobtrusive, his actors given space to reveal the consequences of such judicial brutality, which they do with aplomb. Brave, important film-making, that history will take note of.