Against the backdrop of the cold sky, the gaunt twigs of a multitude of branches stretch out their long hooked fingers. Below, a little girl observes the bare canopy, captivated. In the background: mysterious and vaguely sinister music… And in fact, soon, this child will vanish into this same nature. Back after the success of Drive my Car (Or Drive my tank), which won him the Oscar for best international film, Ryūsuke Hamaguchi offers, with Evil does not exista poetic reminder that nature will always have the last word.
He who specialized in intimate urban stories (Asako I & II), even those espousing a choral structure (Happy hour, Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy), Ryūsuke Hamaguchi here goes beyond what he himself described in an interview with Duty from his “comfort zone”. Winner of the Grand Jury Prize and the International Critics Prize in Venice, the result is as captivating as it is fascinating.
Indeed, throughout, this aura of mystery mentioned from the outset shines through in a reality that could not be more down to earth. It is as if, with this sylvan proximity, the daily life of the characters was constantly on the verge of falling into the unusual, but without this ever happening; at least, not until the very end.
This constant tension, like a manifestation of nature itself, of its immutable power, plunges us into a state similar to that of the little girl at the beginning, close to hypnosis.
Said little girl is named Hana (Ryo Nishikawa, very apt), and she lives in the mountains with her father, Takumi (Hitoshi Omika, charismatic), a widower. Takumi cherishes his offspring, but otherwise he is rather misanthropic and enjoys his isolated existence. However, the tranquility of Takumi, just like that of its scattered neighbors and the inhabitants of the village located further down, is threatened by the plans of a developer determined to transform the forest into a site of “ glamping », a form of luxury camping popular with influencers of all kinds.
Destructive and polluting, the project would destabilize a fragile ecosystem, endanger a peaceful herd of deer, in addition to compromising the community’s drinking water supply. All this seems so insane that upon reflection, even Takahashi and Mayuzumi, the two employees of a public relations firm mandated to make the development “socially acceptable”, become disillusioned.
Stealthy virtuosity
This is one of the many aspects contributing to the discreet but constant appeal of the film: the characters never cease to surprise. This, always in a way that seems credible, that seems true. As if everything that arises and happens flows naturally.
Moreover, the entire film has a virtuosity that is all the more admirable because it does not attract attention: furtive, it reveals itself a posteriorifilling our memory with reverberations…
Ryūsuke Hamaguchi’s direction has, for lack of a better term, the same organic dimension. The filmmaker favors duration and repetition, certain actions and certain places taking on the value of motifs, motifs favoring the bewitching effect (in concert with the atmospheric music of Eiko Ishibash).
Wide shots, even very wide shots, dominate, often in order to accentuate the contrast between human insignificance and natural magnificence. Tighter shots here and there bring us closer to the characters’ faces, but there are no clear close-ups, only chest shots.
An exception on this scale occurs during the denouement, with Hana. Ryūsuke Hamaguchi then comes full circle on an emotional and symbolic note of quiet, all-encompassing power. Like the surrounding nature.