A large lake in a provincial city. A derailed train car at the bottom of a tunnel where two children, Mugino Minato (Kurokawa Souya) and Hoshikawa Yori (Hiiragi Hinata), play while mentioning the existence of a monster whose brain has been changed into that of a pig. An 11-year-old elementary school student who cannot get over the recent death of his father. A single mother who runs a laundry and loves her son more than anything. A close mother-son relationship. A teacher, Mr. Hori Michitoshi (Nagayama Eita), worried about his students. Childhood innocence at its best. A scandal involving low-life women in which the professor seems to be entangled. Small and large fires here and there. A school principal erratic in her actions and decisions after (causing?) the death of her grandson in a car accident. Professor's colleagues who appear to be hiding something. The teacher's girlfriend who has begun to doubt him...
Although it seemed like a typical fight between children, the residents and the media are dragged into a drama that unfolds when the main parties involved make contradictory statements.
These are the main elements with which the famous filmmaker Koreeda Hirokazu weaves in '怪物' ('Kaibutsu'/Monster'), a virtuoso and labyrinthine drama with the soul of a puzzle, a brilliant film with a great human story, powerful performances and messages that They invite reflection.
When Minato begins to behave strangely, Saori (Ando Sakura), his parent, senses that something is wrong. Discovering that the person responsible for all this is a teacher, he bursts into the school demanding to know what is happening. But as the story unfolds through the eyes of the mother, the teacher and the boy, the truth slowly comes to light.
With the same fluidity, forcefulness and narrative naturalness that characterizes the filmmaker's work, the film is worthy of being enjoyed by the auteur cinema audience, but it could even appeal to a broader audience due to its genre features, its complicated structural dynamics and the shocking message that the story contains.
The film allows us to immediately connect with personal dilemmas, existential conflicts, thematic areas and secondary characters that dance coherently around the protagonists and the main story.
The sound design, the original music (which I will return to at another time), the editing and photography by Ryûto Kondô, round out the script's discourse, making use of very interesting shots and high-flying staging solutions.
The viewer must be attentive, because the film, precise as an atomic clock and, therefore, prodigious in its virtuosity and perfection, has a misleading timeline and the selective revelation of information prevents the audience from knowing where events are heading. , because she hides her true intentions until the end.
With a defined structure, well thought out from its writing, 'Monster' promptly opens the conflicts and develops them throughout the entire plot. If something was adjusted along the way, it was that the two young protagonists did not lose much in the face of such an ensemble film.
The director tries at all times to ensure that his stories, his conflicts, do not diminish their prominence before a cast made up of established actors and actresses. That was perhaps the biggest rectification of the original script, which is not so much, if we take into account that there is too much love, too much knowledge and passion on the part of the screenwriter about the story he wanted to tell from the beginning. And the audiovisual interpretation of said story at the hands of Koreeda Hirokazu is coherent enough not to get lost in complacency or self-censorship.
Ingeniously designed, subtle and flexible, the filmmaker proposes a stimulating game to the viewer: if the truth seems clear at first, we will discover it little by little, through the points of view of the mother, the teacher and Minato, in that order. , that nothing is ever what it seems.
Skillful as always in awakening the public's empathy, Koreeda, back in his native Japan, invites us to a film that lives up to the plot intensity proposed in the script by the talented Yuji Sakamoto ('Soredemo, Ikite Yuku '('Still, Life Goes On').
In this fascinating journey from darkness to light, as it is done through the cracks left in the different points of view, we find narrative traps distributed in a well-balanced way everywhere, throughout the film story, so that In the end, the viewer becomes aware of what has happened before their eyes.
From the mother's perspective, we enter an atmosphere of suspense, fear, doubt and despair that keeps the viewer in suspense, while the filmmaker tells us Saori's concern about the anomalous behavior of her son, a fifth grade student in a local primary school, with evasive responses and no addressing of their concerns.
At the same time, he hears neighborhood gossip from his clients that points to his son's teacher being involved in a sexual scandal.
Alarmed, she searches for the causes of this strange behavior of her son that has plunged her into confusion, distrust and frustration. Masterfully, Koreeda involves us in Minato's strange antics, but at the same time leads us to feel terrified by Saori's helplessness. No matter how much he investigates and demands a convincing explanation from the school directors and teachers of what is happening, the less he understands Minato's problems.
In this interesting way of touching reality, Koreeda addresses, with depth and lucidity, school bullying, to which more and more layers of complexity are added and to which an easy solution is avoided.
The film, rich in hidden feelings, hidden frustrations and current conflicts, such as abuse in schools and previous trials, is told with great detail and care, and the late Ryuichi Sakamoto's gentle score adds an overall air of reflection and empathy, helping with the nuances rather than reloading the inks.
With a well-cared for story, full of hidden twists that are revealed with time and patience, it changes from the teacher's point of view. Mr. Hori has another version of reality. Perhaps because he is worried about his students, perhaps because he is present in every act of Minato and the rest of the students, he sees the protagonist's situation with other eyes and other nuances that are very different from how Saori perceives it.
Although this narrative arc is, in my opinion, less attractive because it tends, at times, to dramatize and moments in which naturalness is lost, its approach adds complexity to the narrative with a story that continues to be intricately crafted and therefore the use of profound comments on the teacher's ethics, the dynamics of power and the influence of the media in the formation of opinion matrices that can manipulate public opinion. Using clever metaphors to convey ideas keeps the audience's interest afloat.
Although in this new narrative strategy permeated with ambiguity, Koreeda has left intentional gaps in the first two revelations, in the third all the pieces fall into place, with a very moving emotional force, which allows, finally, to narrate the truth behind the Minato's behavior, but this only comes to light from the eyes of children, in that natural innocence and friendly complicity, which as a spirit moves the skeleton of the story: once it is detached from all its layers, it shows its true nature. nature and, in the end, it is nothing more than a beautiful story of friendship and teenage love.
It is then that we realize the poetic puzzle about childhood and its secrets, recreated with an exquisite sensitivity that has allowed Koreeda to show how difficult it is to understand the world of adolescents from the perspective of adults. As perspectives converge and conflicts close, a story of disturbing tenderness begins to emerge, about the way friendship, love, shame and rejection often live within ourselves. The way in which the viewer is led towards a deeper understanding of the characters, once again demonstrates the staunch humanism of the director.
Without being a romantic drama, the strongly suggested childhood infatuation attracts the attention of members of the LGBTQ+ community, who have seen the film as a gay drama by showing a danshoku or love between men.
And they do not sin in assuming it this way, because 'Monster' reflects on the pressure of fitting into the world, especially in the family; the doubts and insecurities inherent to self-discovery and acceptance; the anguish of rejecting sexual identity, the mental tension of hiding a secret, typical of homosexuals, especially in societies where there is still discrimination against the people who make up this human group, such as Japan, as it does not have laws that recognize marriage. homosexual. Many homosexuals will see themselves reflected in the struggles, internal and external, that the two young men go through.
This is a suggestive drama of undeniable lucidity, which combines refined ability in the use of cinematographic language with narrative solidity and intelligence when developing emotions. Its director does not skimp on feelings to give us a profound drama focused on self-acceptance, captured lyrically, to astutely examine childhood and its secrets.
The film provides a new combination of social themes and childhood that, although it is not at the level of the filmmaker's masterpieces, such as 'Nobody Knows' or 'Still Walking', does not falter like 'The Truth' or 'Broker'.
Honest, profound and hopeful, 'Monster' is one of the filmmaker's most ambitious works. Its biggest problem is that, in its desire to document the suffering of its characters, it ends up trapping the viewer in a crossfire of shocks that can make the less experienced lose the narrative thread.