A battle for the soul of a Japanese mountain village
Writer-director Ryusuke hamaguchi follows up his Oscar-winning film “Drive My car” with the more somber and meditative Venice film festival Grand Jury Prize winner “evil Does not exist.” fans of the previous film may be surprised by the difference in tone; this one has a colder vibe that will be familiar to those who have seen other hamaguchi films such as “Asako I & II” and the five-hour opus “happy hour.”
that chilliness is appropriate for the subject matter. this is an angry film about the potential desecration of nature by a giant, soulless tokyo conglomerate called Playmode. the company wants to build a “glamping” (short for “glamorous camping”) resort in the idyllic country town of Mizubiki Village. the resort will draw tourists to an easily managed facsimile of an environment nature already provides, supplementing God’s work with an inferior copy built by man.
“evil Does not exist” presents characters on both sides of the battle for the soul of Mizubiki Village. Opposing the glamping proposal is self-proclaimed “jack-of-all-trades” takumi (hitoshi Omika). he and his daughter, hana (Ryo nishikawa), take long walks in the woods surrounding their home. As he educates hana on the wonders of the outdoors, their strolls are accompanied by the lovely, occasionally foreboding score by eiko Ishibashi.
takahashi (Ryuji Kosaka) and Mayuzumi (Ayaka Shibutani) are the Playmode employees sent to assure the villagers that no harm will come to their idyllic home. the intentions behind this faux town hall aren’t noble — Playmode could give a damn about what these villagers think — but hamaguchi presents the duo as troubled souls whose hearts really aren’t into the dirty work they’ve been sent to do.
It soon becomes evident that Playmode has severely underestimated the villagers. In the film’s tour-de-force centerpiece, every detail its employees present with a smile is brutally yet politely dismantled by someone in the crowd. these people know every single danger such a resort would bring, natural and otherwise. As with many scenes, the town hall goes on for far longer than we expect, but each back-and-forth exchange is riveting.
Playmode is committed to decimating the area. hamaguchi’s screenplay depicts a farcical set of situations the company will enforce in the face of impending disaster. Rather than admit any mistakes, the powers that be will insist on plowing forward.
Meanwhile, takahashi develops a bond with takumi; the now-humbled employee admires takumi’s skills at chopping wood and, because of his own guilt, wishes to become more in touch with nature. the budding friendship has some comedic elements, but they’re supplemented by an unnerving feeling that something will go tragically wrong.
Despite being only 116 minutes, “evil Does not exist” is a slower burn than “Drive My car.” but the gorgeous scenes of lakes, foliage, and forest, and the peaceful ways cinematographer Yoshio Kitagawa’s camera glides through it all, are worth savoring.
As for the film’s title, it’s either a definitive statement or one of cruel irony. And if evil does exist, the film leaves it up to the viewer to define what that evil is. the ambiguous finale provides neither certainty nor respite, and may prove frustrating for some. I had no idea where hamaguchi’s cautionary tale was taking me, but I remained intrigued until the bitter end.