Coming in on the coattails of his 2022 Korean language film Broker winning the Palme d’Or, and having back-to-back films premiering at the 2022 and 2023 Cannes Film Festival’s respectively, Japanese filmmaker Hirokazu Kore-eda brings to life an intriguing and mysterious tale told in a Rashomon style narrative of differing perspectives and slow burn revelations that culminate in a beautifully human story about finding emotional connections in unexpected ways.
Saori Mugino (Sakura Ando) is a single mother to Minato (Soya Kurokawa), a mild-mannered and isolated young man who is an outlier of the various friend groups at his school. When Minato begins unexpectedly behaving strangely, through cutting his own hair and disappearing into the local woods at night, Saori attempts to investigate her son’s abstract behaviours.
Upon discovering that Minato’s teacher, Michitoshi Hori’s (Eita Nagayama) strict disciplinary actions against Minato may be the cause of this behaviour, Saori demands answers from the school, which proves to be more difficult that she anticipates, and the truth begins to emerge as the film’s narrative plays out in 3 different versions of the story – one from Saori, one from Hori, and one from Minato.
Kore-eda is a brilliant filmmaker and uses a beautiful visual style to capture the different elements of the story from what feels like three different perspectives visually. The same scene can be seen in this film three different times, and just based on where Kore-eda places the camera can bring a whole new context to something that has already been established, and that is a testament to how Kore-eda so thoughtfully understands his characters and their stories.
Even the scenic shots of the Suwa region of Nagaon Prefecture are captured with a homely cinematography that immediately makes this part of Japan feel like a lived in suburbia that all audiences can relate too. But, it’s the moments of the film that take place in a local woodland area that showcase a stunning visual style that feels both haunting in it’s darkness, but beautiful in the light. The final scene is a truly stunning shot of a green field during a blue skied day, that within the context of story, is a beautiful moment.
Monster is the first time in almost 30 years that Kore-eda has not directed a screenplay of his own (with screenwriting credit going to veteran writer Yuji Sakamoto), yet this film still manages to capture the essence of the stories, and the way they are structured, of his previous work. The mystery and intrigue behind Minato’s behaviour in the first act of the story (told through Saori’s perspective) plays more as a thriller due to the uncertainty of why Minato is doing the odd things he is. However, as the additional perspectives and contexts slowly drip their way into the film, Monster becomes almost an entirely different film, and one that showcases the beauty of human connection.
On an initial viewing, it could be forgiven that there are aspects of the story that feel aimless at the time, which can at points lead to a dragged-out pacing experience. The true heart and soul of emotions in Monster aren’t truly felt until the final act, in which the story is told completely through Minato’s point of view. That’s not to say there aren’t emotional moments or substance to Saori and Hori’s acts, but the adult point of views feel a little colder than that of the child’s, and with the film spending a decent amount of time in those perspectives, it can occasionally feel like a chore to get through.
The performances are what will keep audiences engaged. Sakura Ando flawlessly capture the spectrum of motherhood, from deep, loving care, to being ready to verbally rip people to shreds for their malicious incompetence. Ando brings Saori’s desperation to understand Minato to life so authentically and grounds her story in reality.
Eita Nagayama’s character of Hori has a large character arc to go through with in his version of the story, and Nagayama’s performance demands a lot of the actor, who is strong in the role. The balance of accusation versus truth is a heavy weight for Hori, and the physical and psychological detriments that come with that blast on to the screen through Nagayama. Little should also be said in regards to Kurokawa as Minato and Hinata Hiiragi as Yori and their characters relevance to the overall plot, but it should be stated that these are two fantastic child performers considering the density and heaviness of some of the themes of the plot.
It must be mentioned that Monster was the final score from late composer Ryuichi Sakamoto, who’s collaborations with acclaimed directors such as Pedro Almodovar, Alejandro G. Inarritu, Oliver Stone, and now of course, Hirokazy Kore-eda earnt wide acclaim for Sakamoto himself. The film being dedicated to his memory after a lengthy battle with cancer comes due to Sakamoto writing two original pieces for the film, as he was unable to score the entire film due to his health. However, the music that Sakamoto did create for Monster is a truly moving orchestra of strings and piano that will induce goosebumps as it’s bellows through the theatre speakers.
Monster is another fantastic example of Hirokazu Kore-eda’s ability to turn a darker, more mysterious tale into a beautiful story about relationships and the need for human connection. While the overall structure of the story can occasionally feel slow pacing wise, and not all the story elements feel emotionally impactful, it’s overall an impressive and moving piece of work from the filmmaker.
Monster is playing at this year’s Brisbane International Film Festival, with the festival on from October 26 to November 5. Head to www.biff.com.au for tickets and info. Monster will release nationally in cinemas, courtesy of Madman Films, at a yet to be determined date.
