With Evil Does Not Exist, one can’t help but wonder if the title of Oscar Winning Director Ryseuke Hamaguchi’s film is meant to be ironic or is, in fact, trying to reveal the good nature of our humanity.
For a long time, it seems like the latter as Hamaguchi involves us in his carefully-built world that remains centred around a small, forested village where Takumi and his eight-year-old daughter, Hana, live. The area has long been kept free of any industrial projects, the water is clean enough to drink and use for cooking, and the wood burns long. But this little slice of heaven is eventually threatened by an urban developing company’s purchase of land where they propose a new ‘glamping’ site, intended for inner-city tourists. This threat causes a rift between the members of the village and the talent agents sent to meet with them. Their encounter and the details of what makes life in the village so beautiful shift their perspectives, sending the characters into new and unexplored territory that will reveal both the sanctity and scarcity of the great outdoors.
Evil Does Not Exist features excellent performances from all of its leads, giving almost all the characters a moment to shine. They’re also written in a very specific way and the cast evokes the unique personalities that make up Takumi’s small village community. The music left something to be desired because, while it was fitting for the film its composition, it felt under-utilized and too repetitive by the end. The cinematography is intentional, with every shot feeling carefully orchestrated and designed with the end film in mind. In many ways, it truly feels like the work of a master who is playing with the story in new and invigorating ways. Hamaguchi uses the small details to create a stunning second half and those details become the moments that are both often hilarious and harrowing.
Evil Does Not Exist is not playing at TIFF ’23. For more information, click here.
