After his critically acclaimed 2021 Oscar-winning film 'Drive My Car', writer-director Ryûsuke Hamaguchi is back with his latest outing "Evil Does Not Exist". An uncanny ecological-drama, set in the Japanese village of Mizubiki, where locals' lives take an unexpected turn when they are approached by two agents from a Tokyo-based talent agency for the construction of a Glamping Site. The film revolves around a widower named Takumi (Hitoshi Omika), who lives with his daughter Hana (Ryô Nishikawa) and calls himself a jack of all trades-the local odd-job man. He is so attached to nature that he keeps forgetting to pick up his daughter after school (nearly every day).
The opening scene takes us on a 4-minute contemplative walk through a serene forest path while all this time, the camera is continuously glazing up. Hamaguchi spends a hefty amount of time showing Takumi's daily routine. The purpose of both shots here is to immerse the viewers in the beauty of nature, allowing them to observe and embrace what they see. This is enough to realise what a fine work of art the film is. Eiko Ishibashi's music plays a huge role in driving the narrative, as much as setting the mood. In an interview, Hamaguchi credited the musician as his inspiration behind this film.
Back to the story, in one of the most memorable scenes, the PR agents present their proposal of setting up a Glamping Site on the top of the mountain to locals during a town hall meeting. The locals fiercely oppose the idea because it threatens the town's water supply. "Any activities upstream will add up, leaving a huge impact downstream," says the village chief. The agents soon realise that these villagers are not the country bumpkins they ha assume, leading them to reconsider their stand. During one of their chats, one of the agents considers taking the job of caretaker at the Glamping site.
In dramatic final moments, the story takes a cynical turn that leaves the viewers astonished but more in a state of confusion. It's a culmination of reality and imagination. On the surface, it seems to be a social commentary about how humans are continuously spoiling nature which is causing an imbalance. It tries to demonstrate the importance of the delicate balance between nature and humanity, and too much interference in one can lead to drastic effects on the other. After a little bit of thinking, you will find that there's so much subtle imagery and symbolism in "Evil Does Not Exist" and hence there's a lot to pore over. Conversations are key to deducing the secrets of this film.
Ryûsuke Hamaguchi's "Evil Does Not Exist" asks for patience but with a sluggish pace and a lack of tension, it's too hard to peer through the mist. Even with all the experimental achievements, fantastic cinematography and outstanding musical score, the story seriously lacks engaging elements. Hamaguchi leaves too much for the audience to interpret. Its open for interpretation ending continues to unspool long after the closing credits have rolled. One thing is clear, this is a film that qualifies for the label "Not for Everyone". Also, it is not a horror film as its metaphorical title suggests. It's up to you, how you wish to interpret this film.
The opening scene takes us on a 4-minute contemplative walk through a serene forest path while all this time, the camera is continuously glazing up. Hamaguchi spends a hefty amount of time showing Takumi's daily routine. The purpose of both shots here is to immerse the viewers in the beauty of nature, allowing them to observe and embrace what they see. This is enough to realise what a fine work of art the film is. Eiko Ishibashi's music plays a huge role in driving the narrative, as much as setting the mood. In an interview, Hamaguchi credited the musician as his inspiration behind this film.
Back to the story, in one of the most memorable scenes, the PR agents present their proposal of setting up a Glamping Site on the top of the mountain to locals during a town hall meeting. The locals fiercely oppose the idea because it threatens the town's water supply. "Any activities upstream will add up, leaving a huge impact downstream," says the village chief. The agents soon realise that these villagers are not the country bumpkins they ha assume, leading them to reconsider their stand. During one of their chats, one of the agents considers taking the job of caretaker at the Glamping site.
In dramatic final moments, the story takes a cynical turn that leaves the viewers astonished but more in a state of confusion. It's a culmination of reality and imagination. On the surface, it seems to be a social commentary about how humans are continuously spoiling nature which is causing an imbalance. It tries to demonstrate the importance of the delicate balance between nature and humanity, and too much interference in one can lead to drastic effects on the other. After a little bit of thinking, you will find that there's so much subtle imagery and symbolism in "Evil Does Not Exist" and hence there's a lot to pore over. Conversations are key to deducing the secrets of this film.
Ryûsuke Hamaguchi's "Evil Does Not Exist" asks for patience but with a sluggish pace and a lack of tension, it's too hard to peer through the mist. Even with all the experimental achievements, fantastic cinematography and outstanding musical score, the story seriously lacks engaging elements. Hamaguchi leaves too much for the audience to interpret. Its open for interpretation ending continues to unspool long after the closing credits have rolled. One thing is clear, this is a film that qualifies for the label "Not for Everyone". Also, it is not a horror film as its metaphorical title suggests. It's up to you, how you wish to interpret this film.