LIFF: Evil Does Not Exist Review
Azrael Tay reviews Ryūsuke Hamaguchi’s latest film Evil Does Not Exist, as part of Leeds International Film Festival 2023, which concluded on 19th November.
Ryūsuke Hamaguchi is no stranger to prose in film form. Even before gaining worldwide recognition and acclaim in 2021 for his Oscar-winning, three-hour epic drama Drive My Car, Hamaguchi has been known for breathing cinematic life into his brand of magical realism. Look no further than the same year’s Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy, an eclectic anthology of stories that blend romance, drama, and fantasy in equal measure. Yet so many of those stories centred around disparate souls amidst the busyness of city life in Japan. This year’s Evil Does Not Exist feels like Hamaguchi taking a considerable breather from the hustle and bustle to tell this meditative parable.
Evil Does Not Exist tells the story in the small Mizubiki Village where two entrepreneurs from Tokyo seek to create a glamping facility, and the disputes that occur between them and the village folk. Of particular focus is Takumi (Hitoshi Omika), the village’s odd-job fixer, positioned by the entrepreneurs as the bridge between the locals and city folk.
For those unaccustomed to Hamaguchi’s meditative style, you may feel alienated by the film’s opening: five full minutes of the camera looking towards the morning sky, surrounded by silhouettes of trees, as it treks through the forests of Mizubiki. An invitation from Hamaguchi to settle into nature’s serenity, it is impossible not to be staggered by the village’s beauty, and the rhythm of Takumi’s errands, once you tap into the film’s wavelength – which conveniently places the audience on the locals’ side once the voices of urbanisation come calling.
The businessmen intend to construct a glamping (‘glamourous camping’) site in the village, with the locals almost immediately pointing out various dangers and risks. Water pollution from the planned site’s septic tank. Environmental damage by glampers thanks to insufficient supervision and staffing. The disturbance of the local wildlife. The decline of local businesses, The list goes on. Very quickly, the suits are painted as the villains, and we think we know the story from there.
Yet, Hamaguchi wisely plays with the archetype of the businessmen as the faces of environmental pollution, taking great steps to humanise Takahashi (Ryuki Kosaka) and Mayuzumi (Ayaka Shibutani), the mediators between the innocent locals and corporate, capitalist intent. These are spokespeople who truly wish to do right by the locals and the village, and seeing them learn the ways of the village life reflects our own experience falling in love with the film. As for the film’s ominous title, who and what represents evil in this picture? Finding a party to blame for the poorly designed business venture feels like trying to catch smoke when people on both sides are doing their jobs, striving for better, looking towards a hope that eludes. If true evil does exist in humanity, it is only born from consequence, not ambition, as the film’s unpredictable ending makes clear even in its narrative ambiguity.
You can read about LIFF and Azrael Tay’s other reviews including The Killer on the Gryphon’s Arts and Culture Page.
