Monster (2023)

In the middle of his career, from “Still Walking” (2008) to “After the Storm” (2016), Kore-eda Hirokazu carved out a niche for himself as the master of the low-key drama about unconventional, post-modern family units. And while consistently delivering quality, his themes, and even his characters, were starting to get a little familiar. Since, he has come across as a director trying to find a new place for himself, exploring courtroom drama (“The Third Murder”, 2017), his biggest mainstream sucess yet (“Shoplifters”, 2018) and trips abroad to France (“The Truth”, 2019) Korea (“Broker”, 2022). These attempts have been met with mixed response, seeing some of his best and worst work.

To try something new once again, Kore-eda has made his first film using a screenwriter since his 1995 debut “Maborosi”. And Yuji Sakamoto has delivered a Rashomon-like, complex script, telling a story of school bullying from various angles and multiple layers.

A fire at a building which houses a hostess club near her home, Saori (Sakura Ando) tries to have a discussion with her son Minato (Soya Kurokawa). But he is guarded and closed. The hostess club is rumoured to be a haunt for his teacher Hori (Eita Nagayama). Arranging a meeting at the school to investigate her son’s behaviour, it appears Hori may be bullying Minato. But the teachers are erratic in their reaction, with Saori unconvinced.

Hori is then shown as an earnest, if perhaps a little nerdy, teacher. He himself feels victim of rumour spread by Minato and class outcast Hoshikawa (Hinata Hiiragi), and has been thrown under the bus by the school. But what are the motivations of the two boys, and what exactly is the nature of their relationship in a school system that shuts out difference?

As with his other recent works, this is much more plot-heavy than his scenario and humanist films that made his name. Using the Akutagawa “In A Grove” narrative approach of multiple perspectives, adapted by Kurosawa for “Rashomon” (1950), this starts off being much more about the story. Though rather than separating out the narratives, they are more interwoven, becoming a singular narrative by the conclusion.  

There is also a more conscious attempt to be more cinematic now as well, aiming for more iconic shots, with use of soft-focus lens, continuing a shift in the overall design of his work. Matched with a minimalist soundtrack from Ryuichi Sakamoto – which ended up more of a select compilation of his music than an original composition, for obvious reasons.

But while there are differences, there are definite Kore-eda traits. Minato and Hoshikawa both come from unconventional family units, with the focus on their perspective. Their world is a free one, manipulating the adults, who live in the midst of rumour, accusation and conceit. They create their own world, away from their parents, teachers and judgemental classmates. This has prompted debates about the sexual identity of the pair, though this is something Kore-eda did not intend to politicise. Though both their relationships with their fathers show their developing bond goes against expectations.   

This is good Kore-eda, but not him at his best. Perhaps a different writer’s touch has taken away something of the wit and charm you’d expect from him – something that could be aimed at all of his recent work. More mainstream, this has brought greater success, but at the cost of the warmth of his understated indie soul. But it is clear he needed a change for fear of growing stale.

The narrative technique for asking ‘who is the monster’ is the film’s strength, however, with each character both monster and victim depending on the viewpoint. We are asked to have sympathy for each, but also criticise their actions, though in more complex and nuanced ways than Kurosawa had us do previous. Less a ‘society is the real monster’ message, than a reminder that we can all be monsters in our own unique ways.