Ever since a roommate randomly happened across a copy of 2004’s Nobody Knows at the Gainesville, Florida Public Library over fifteen years ago, I’ve been completely infatuated with the films of Hirokazu Kore-eda. There is no director working today whose movies I look forward to seeing more, and that he puts out roughly one a year makes him not only my favorite contemporary filmmaker but the industry’s most reliable one too. In truth, I haven’t seen even half of the vast Kore-eda filmography (he’s released sixteen narrative features, plus no s of Japanese television miniseries and documentaries), but this only means I still have a number of his films to see for the first time. And there’s nothing quite like seeing a Kore-eda film for the first time.
Few directors are able to tap into the human condition quite like Kore-eda can. He’s often likened to fellow Japanese great Yasujirō Ozu (something that’s hard to argue), but prefers comparisons to British director Ken Loach (something else that’s hard to argue). All are masters at dissecting family and social issues with plenty of artistic style and gripping realism, but the films of Kore-eda add an unmatched aura of tragedy and innocence that borders on intangible. He has the uncanny ability to lift your spirit and break your heart at the same time, a feat most directors can only dream of pulling off.
Helped by an amazing score by Ryuichi Sakamoto (the last before his death in March, 2023) and a brilliant screenplay by Yuji Sakamoto, this tradition of emotive filmmaking is continued with Kore-eda’s newest film, Monster, about a previously normal young boy who begins acting out of character, much to the dismay of his mother, teachers, and others. But, on top of the already rich atmosphere and layered intensity Kore-eda is known for, Monster also applies Kurosawa’s Rashomon effect to pull off the most well-plotted and rewarding mystery of the year as well. The results are a staggering display of cinematic delicacy that approaches difficult subject matter with the utmost respect while never exploiting our natural emotional responses to what we’re being presented.
The events of Monster are presented from three different overlapping points of view, the first of which is from Saori (Sakura Andō), a single mother who begins to notice behavioral changes in her fifth grade son, Minato (Sōya Kurokawa). He’s aloof about why he cut his hair off, why one day he comes home with only one shoe, and other off-putting events, but it’s when he goes missing and is found muddy and talking to himself in an abandoned train tunnel that Saori finally takes action.
Suspecting something is amiss at Minato’s school, Saori confronts the administration, only to be given cold-shouldered half answers, particularly about her son’s teacher, Mr. Hori (Eita Nagayama, in one of the best performances of the year), along with allusions toward another student named Yori (Hinata Hiiragi). From here, the mystery and anger deepen, but as each viewpoint shifts, first to Mr. Hori’s, then finally to Minato’s, what’s really happening comes slowly into clear, heartbreaking focus.
But, despite the increasingly weighty twists and turns, Kore-eda never deliberately takes advantage of his viewers with over-sentimentalization just for sentiment’s sake. While Monster certainly tells an emotional story, Kore-eda doesn’t misuse its emotion or bleed it dry just to make us feel something. He’s got too much respect for his story and for his audience to simply lambast us with manipulative Hollywood-styled tear-jerking. His is a much softer approach that, in the end, packs a much bigger and longer-lasting punch.
My biggest hope for this year’s fast-approaching Oscar nomination announcements and ceremony is that the world will finally take notice of one of the best directors we’re lucky enough to have. Kore-eda has remained nearly invisible to the Academy for far too long, and it’s time for everyone to appreciate the brilliant work he does.
James is a writer, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.