Released 2024. Director: Ryusuke Hamaguchi
ENVIRONMENTAL PROTECTION SOUNDS MORE LIKE a subject for documentaries, not mainstream narrative movies. That being said, there have been a fine selection of very successful, even critically acclaimed movies built around this theme over the years, including Avatar, Erin Brockovich, Dark Waters and WALL-E. Evil Does Not Exist, directed by Ryusuke Hamaguchi, who won and Oscar for Drive My Car a couple of years back, is the latest to join their rank. This is a very pared back, unhurried and even-toned comment on the issue but the quiet approach, despite some flaws. does not make it any less a critical allegory on the grave concern of environmental degradation.
In a long opening scene we take in the view of bare treetops against a pale winter sky. Seen from the ground up, as Hamaguchi will occasionally bring us back to this view later on, this is the view of a child looking up as she walks through the woods alone.
For several minutes nothing happens as the sight of slim branches continue to slide across the screen, accompanied by sombre and forboding string music by Eiko Ishibashi evoking a sense of tragedy and thriller. On one level this languorous pace and placid mood reflects the harmonious relationship between the small community of Mizubiki and the natural environment they derive their livelihood from. On another level it might also suggest the collective apathy and slow action taken to address issues of conservation.
We follow a soft-spoken widower Takumi as he goes about his job as the handyman in the village. He collects spring water from a shallow stream and helps transport the containers to the local noodle shop. The long single-take of Takumi chopping firewood from felled logs has a strangely satisfying quality with the repeated thump of axe splitting wood. Takumi has a young daughter Hana who likes to wander in the forest, sometimes by herself. We know this because Takumi is late to pick up Hana from school one afternoon and the girl simply ventures out among the trees.
The intrusion on the peaceful lifestyle of the close-knit community comes in the form of real-estate development from the big city. Mizubiki, not too far from Tokyo, is an ideal site to build a ‘glamping’ compound for those who wish to escape the city for a taste of nature (while not necessarily heeding the effect of their action on the environment).
Takahashi and Mayuzumi, personnel from a talent agency representing the developer, have come to make a presentation to the locals and take questions. They have not expected the fervent protectiveness they’ll encounter and the education they’ll receive from the community's' pointed questions. The proposed septic system, for example, is inadequate for its purpose and the sewage will leak into the groundwater system. This is pure spring water the locals drink from, and what the local ramen shop owner uses to make her signature soba noodles. The site will also cut across a deer path, disrupting the animal’s established travel pattern. Not to mention the effect of campfire on the surroundings and the lack of round-the-clock safety check.
The lack of understanding and the developer’s push for the project to go ahead regardless shows the greed for profit over conservation. The rush to get an inadequately planned development off the ground overshadows the need to incorporate long-term welfare for nature and the community.
Pressured by their employer and the client, Takahashi and Mayuzumi return to the village to try to persuade Takumi to come on their side as an adviser. The shift in character focus now seems to place the two city dwellers at the centre, as we learn about them, especially Takahashi, who decides to stay on in the village for a while.
Not long after, the village is struck by a tragic event. Hana is missing and the villagers venture into the woods to search for her. What happens next is shrouded in some ambiguity that some might find baffling, jarring or even shocking. I just about sat up and muttered "what just happened?"
The ending echoes something Takumi mentions earlier to Takahashi about deer attacking humans after they’ve been shot and wounded. In this instance, it becomes an allegory that nature will fight back when harm creeps too close. Likewise, an environmentalist will do what he needs to do to protect the people he loves and the land that he cherishes.
Evil Does Not Exist is muted and restrained, at times chilly in its inspection of the conflict between nature and commerce. What's missing is a relatable central character to draw on our sympathy and act as our moral guide. Switching focus midway from Takumi to Takahashi and back does little to help us identify with either man. We get the message, but it also leaves us a little cold.
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