Japanese director Ryûsuke Hamaguchi has quietly been cementing himself as one of the most interesting filmmakers currently at work, rightly earning international awards and nominations for his previous film Drive My Car. His latest venture, the environmentally conscious thriller Evil Does Not Exist, will only enhance his growing reputation.
The film takes place in a remote mountain community not far from Tokyo. Everybody knows everybody and the inhabitants are responsible for each other and for their pristine environment. The hero is Takumi (Hitoshi Omika), a taciturn widower who lives with his young daughter Hana. He is the archetypal woodsman: he knows about all the flora and fauna in the area, he chops wood, he collects the pure mountain water from the brook, he notes all the changes in his surroundings, and he imparts all this knowledge and love of nature to Hana. That pure water is an essential ingredient to the plot and to the local community: one woman moved to the mountainside and opened her ramen restaurant due to the quality of the water.
When the community learns that a glamping site is set to open in their vicinity, concerned locals gather to discuss the pros and cons of opening up their pristine paradise to visitors. The proposed glamping site could pose serious threats of pollution. And when two reps come up to talk to the locals and assuage their concerns, it is Takumi who shows them around. This also creates opportunities for some comedy, such as when one of the reps tries his hand at woodchopping. Despite Takumi being against the glamping site – besides the risk of polluting the water, he points out it will pose obstacles to deer as it cuts through their trail – he points out that most of the mountain dwellers are interlopers, just like the Tokyo company. The only difference is that they arrived a long time ago and now see themselves as locals.
Virtually everything about this film is quiet and meditative. Hamaguchi is in no hurry to take us anywhere. The camera lingers over the bark of a tree, a drop of blood on a barb, a feather…You’ll either be utterly absorbed by this (as I was) or itching to head back to civilisation. Interestingly, the film was originally developed as an accompaniment to composer Eiko Ishibashi’s music (she also provided the score for Drive My Car). Together the director and the composer have created a work that has evolved into something oneiric and mystical despite being rooted in a very concrete and realistic contemporary tale (based on an actual issue in Ishibashi’s hometown).
The film’s title could be construed as misleading, ironic or enigmatic. Perhaps it refers to nature and the fact that although it is often harsh and unsentimental, nature is not inherently evil. But when humans are factored in, the title requires a question mark at the very least.
