Vice-President Fidel Tan reviews Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s latest film Evil Does Not Exist (2023), following the themes of capitalist greed and gentrification in conflict with nature.

Fresh from Oscar glory, Ryusuke Hamaguchi returns to the festival circuit with his latest offering Evil Does Not Exist. After the critical acclaim of Drive My Car, crafting its follow-up is no small feat, but Hamaguchi once again weaves an affecting story worth telling on the big screen. Premiering at the 80th Venice Film Festival, the film garnered acclaim amongst critics and audiences alike, nabbing the Grand Jury Prize.

Set in the remote village of Harasawa, the film follows the mundane but humble lives of the locals who reside there. The opening sequence is framed carefully with an upward tracking shot of towering trees in the forest, immersing urban viewers in a cinematic retreat into the woods. As sun rays beat down on the trees, Eiko Ishibashi’s haunting score lingers ominously in the background  —  the first indicator of imminent mayhem.

Hamaguchi seemingly places nature on a pedestal in his pastoral tale, or at least as something omnipresent and potentially dangerous if not respected. Takumi, the protagonist, is careful in every step, meticulously gathering wasabi leaves and collecting spring water from a stream. He then imparts his knowledge to his daughter Hana, teaching her how to identify different species of trees. At this point, it’s clear that Takumi is someone who has a deep reverence for nature.

This serenity is disrupted by the intrusive presence of Playmode, a Tokyo company seeking to build a glamping site in the forest for tourists. At a town hall meeting, two representatives pitch this brazen plan, but it is immediately met with disdain among the residents, including Takumi himself. Though they are admittedly ignorant, the two representatives are genuinely sympathetic toward the residents’ concerns, perhaps a nod at the title’s definitive statement. Yet, they return to Tokyo and face pushback from their unrelenting boss, who even suggests recruiting Takumi as the camp caretaker.

The two representatives then return to the village for their headhunting task, though in layered irony as sinister gunshots echo in the background. Takumi explains that wild deer do not interact with humans unless they are shot by hunters. Hamaguchi continues to present intimate vignettes of village life, as Takumi takes the two employees on a rustic adventure. Several long scenes feature the camera drifting in the forest in a dynamic but measured manner, like a downward stream constantly on the move as a matter of course. Yet, Ishibashi’s brooding score often cuts to abrupt silence, prompting viewers to rethink the film’s title.

Utility then emerges as a central concern of the film. While the villagers grapple with the ecological feasibility of the proposed glamping site, the urban corporation strives for capitalistic efficiency and profit maximization. This dichotomy forces us to ponder: Does nature provide something inherently good, like spring water and wasabi leaves, or are we, as humans, depleting its resources and encroaching upon its spaces with every gunshot and self-absorbed plan?

In the final act of the film, the downward stream evolves into a floodgate of chaos busted right open. Undoubtedly, the film’s ending is a major left turn, almost feeling unearned as it strikes. Yet, upon reflection, it is evident that the tension has always simmered beneath the surface. The conclusion serves as a restoration of natural balance and a reckoning with the consequences of human actions.

Calling the title back to mind, Evil Does Not Exist challenges the idea that evil is intrinsically existent within nature, instead suggesting that it is a product of man-made desires. Though Hamaguchi’s narrative meanders at times, it is still an intriguing meditation on the persistent clash between man and nature. Not only will the film’s unsettling ending linger in minds and elicit unending questions, its captivating visual style will only further complicate one’s relationship with nature  —  something beautiful, yet so frightening.

Evil Does Not Exist (2023) PREMIERES IN SINGAPORE AT THE SINGAPORE INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL UNDER THEIR Altitude PROGRAMME. CHECK OUT SGIFF’S WEBSITE FOR THIS YEAR’S FESTIVAL LINE-UP HERE.