“Evil Does Not Exist” – A Thought-Provoking Film by Ryûsuke Hamaguchi
The latest film from acclaimed director Ryûsuke Hamaguchi, “Evil Does Not Exist,” challenges our perceptions and beliefs about good and evil. Set in a tranquil village near Tokyo, the film explores the delicate balance between man, nature, and the nature of man. While the title may suggest a definitive stance, Hamaguchi artfully blurs the lines, leaving audiences questioning their own assumptions.
Initially, “Evil Does Not Exist” appears to advocate for compassion and understanding. The story follows the villagers’ struggle against a corporation’s plans to build a glamping resort in their beloved forest. Surprisingly, both sides eventually find common ground, suggesting the possibility of harmony. However, this apparent harmony masks a disturbing twist that Hamaguchi reveals in the film’s final act.
Renowned for his humanistic approach to filmmaking, Hamaguchi gained international recognition with his previous work, “Drive My Car,” a three-hour drama exploring relationships and personal grief. The success of this film catapulted him into the global spotlight, forcing him to grapple with the pressures and expectations of the industry. Seeking solace from this alienating experience, Hamaguchi created “Evil Does Not Exist.”
The film originally started as footage for a performance piece in collaboration with the composer of “Drive My Car,” Eiko Ishibashi. However, Hamaguchi soon realized that the material held the potential for a compelling narrative feature. Thus, “Evil Does Not Exist” was born.
The story unfolds in Mizubiki Village, a secluded community nestled within a forest. The villagers lead a modest existence, living in harmony with nature. However, their peaceful way of life is threatened when a corporation proposes building a glamping resort. Despite their protests, the corporation presses on, leading to a gradual disintegration of the village’s idyllic existence. Gunshots echo in the distance as hunters encroach on the local deer population, while even Takumi, a resident of Mizubiki Village, forgets to pick up his young daughter Hana from school, indicating a discordant rhythm in their lives.
To address the mounting concerns, the corporation sends two inexperienced publicists to engage with the villagers. As tensions rise, Hamaguchi orchestrates a poignant town hall meeting where everyone has a voice, but resolutions remain elusive. Amidst this backdrop, the publicists engage in candid conversations during their car rides, injecting moments of humor while providing a glimpse into their personal lives. These scenes humanize the representatives of the corporation, challenging simplistic notions of good and evil.
“Evil Does Not Exist” refrains from passing moral judgments on its characters, emphasizing the complex nature of human behavior. As the film unfolds with its deliberate pace, it gradually reveals that even the villagers themselves are not exempt from acts of evil or wrongdoing. An ominous encounter with a deer carcass serves as a grim reminder of this unpredictability.
With its unhurried cinematography capturing the village’s natural beauty and Eiko Ishibashi’s evocative score, “Evil Does Not Exist” immerses viewers in a contemplative atmosphere. The film’s ending, reminiscent of Korean filmmaker Lee Chang-dong’s “Burning,” adds a layer of intensity and leaves a lasting impression. It delivers a slow yet resonant cinematic experience that challenges the audience’s perception of a pure world and the complexities that lie within.
Grade: B+
“Evil Does Not Exist” had its world premiere at the Venice Film Festival and is set to be released in the U.S. next year by Janus and Sideshow.