Immediately after World War II, drastic agricultural land reform was implemented in Japan. Today, descendants of the original farmers now live on that very land. Enter the carpet baggers offering the “simple” villagers a better life in exchange for a shittier one. “A little pollution won’t hurt anyone.” Takumi is the village jack-of-all-trades. He lives in a simple cabin with his eight-year-old daughter, Hana, a child as adorable as she is rambunctious. His day is simple, and his work is essential, like bringing spring water to the unadon lady or cutting wood. And he ain't buying it.
This is Ryusuke Hamaguchi's follow-up to his Academy Award-winning DRIVE MY CAR. He is not a man inclined to tell a story hastily. He knows the magic happens when the viewer is a voyeur, watching the story unfold in real-time rather than torpedoed in so quickly; it’s easy to think movies should be one explosion after another. EVIL DOES NOT EXIST eschews cinematic shorthand that collapses the timeline to get to the next scene. Hamaguchi takes the first 30 minutes of the movie to immerse us in the relationship with nature that defines the villagers’ lives. We are invited to experience these people's sincerity and appreciation for their existence. This is not a point that should be made in a hurry.
It is this appreciation that goes with the viewer into the village hall for a presentation by the developers to build a “glamping” site with a casino. The young, pretty city people sit before the audience. Takahashi is arrogant, wearing a bright orange puffy coat that contrasts magnificently with the audience, driving home his inability to read the room. Mayuzumi carries a softer sell with her softer voice and features. Together, they inelegantly dodge and weave through the villagers’ questions and comments. Their persuasion proves inadequate. Upon their return to the big city, they are re-dispatched to the wilderness to try again because this damn thing needs to happen before the covid subsidies they used for the plan expire.
The developers’ agents want to recruit Takumi as the caretaker of the new development. Transparent, yes. Takumi plays along, even letting Takahashi wield an axe, teaching him ways of wood chopping. This is where Hamaguchi’s direction shines. The characters are complicated yet understandable. The civility with which the villagers treat the city folk is not forced. It is just the way they are. But the obsequiousness of the developers’ subordinates lands poorly. Their ignorance of anything without a Wi-Fi connection makes the woods a scary place. Mayuzumi asks Takumi if deer will attack people. “Only a wounded deer, or the parent of that deer sometimes will attack humans - they don't have the power to escape so they might fight. But it's highly unlikely." True of both deer and the villagers.
EVIL DOES NOT EXIST is mastery of subtlety. We hear gunshots as we learn about the deer trail the planners want to steamroll. When Hana fails to return home after school, the town turns out to search the woods. Even one of the urbanites pitches in. It is here where the movie takes a turn that will keep audiences talking after the credits. We have been given all the pieces to understand how the story ends. It might take a few days for them to drop into place.
EVIL DOES NOT EXIST explores the relationship between prey and predator without injecting the idea of good and evil, whether speaking of the hunting and killing of deer or the hunting and killing of an ecosystem. The movie gives us the time to inhabit a world under the threat of change. We sit in the backseat of a story patiently told so beautifully; expectations are surrendered to the skill of Ryusuke Hamaguchi vision.