MONSTER

Kore-eda and screenwriter Yûri Sakamoto reveal information in the manner of a mystery, building the inner world of the film as Saori, Mr Hiro and ultimately we put all the puzzle pieces together. In many ways, this makes the ultimate reveal in the final act all the more powerful, as each shift in perspective makes the incongruities around Minato and Yori make more sense. The film is careful never to judge the adult characters for their misconceptions and is careful to make sure we don't either. The three-act structure places us firmly in their perspective, and so just as they are led to these conclusions, so are we, and the reveal of the truth is just as impactful for us as it is for them. 'Monster' is a masterclass in the power of Point of View as a storytelling tool, and it's all the more to its credit that, rather than leading us to a place of darkness akin to a film like Thomas Vinterberg's 'The Hunt' (2012), where misunderstandings collapse into an overwhelming abyss, that the converging of these points of view brings us to a place of immense humanity. At first, 'Monster' feels like a much sharper, crueller film than 'Shoplifters', Kore-eda jettisoning his careful poetry on our capacity to connect and care for one another for an unrelenting emotional brutality, but so delicately as to barely be noticed, his generous understanding of the human spirit ultimately takes centre stage.

That delicacy radiates through the central performances. As expected, Sakura Andô balances enormous frailty and strength as Saori, particularly in the scenes where she has to face the brick wall of the school's administration, refusing to acknowledge that any sort of abuse may have taken place. These are the key scenes of the first act, Kore-eda making Saori feel isolated and small by comparison to the staff, and Andô combatting their cold disregard with a boiling, heartbreaking rage. Your empathy immediately goes out to her, allowing us to take root in (what we think is) the emotional core of the film. When the baton is passed to Eita Nagayama as Mr Hiro, he has the seemingly impossible task of wrestling our sympathies over to him, but he's able to do so by taking a very different tact from Andô, finding him caught in a whirlwind pulling him in all different directions while making his concern and ultimately his empathy for Minato and Yori abundantly clear to us.

As tremendous as Andô and Nagayama are, it's Soya Kurokawa and Hinata Hiiragi as Minato and Yori who ultimately steal the film. It's always hard to tell with young performers whether what we are seeing is a sign of their innate talent or a performance shaped by the director through direction or editing, but I've always felt it's undeniable when you can feel something indescribable emanating from a young actor's performance. Despite the devastating subtext we discover with Yori, Hiiragi always has a lightness of touch, an open heart, an uninhibited sense of self that both asserts who Yori is and protects him from the disregard of the world around him. Korokawa has an immense mountain to climb with the arc we follow with Minato, from what we perceive as victim to abuser to something far more profound, and at no point does his performance lack sincerity. There's so much care a delicacy in both their performances, and even if credit for this should be shared with Kore-eda, the fact both these young actors are able to understand and execute his direction is a credit to their talent.

One other artist involved in 'Monster' that must be noted is the late composer Ryuichi Sakamoto, one of the finest film composers. His score for 'Monster' was his last work for film before he passed away in 2023, and the film would simply not have worked without his compassionate, breathtaking score. It provides the emotional glue that both holds the three sections of the film together and helps navigate us between them. Much like the way in which Kore-eda deftly shifts the tone and texture of the film over its two hours, Sakamoto's score guides us from a place of claustrophobic hopelessness to breathtaking emotional release. We couldn't have asked for a more perfect final statement from the great composer.

'Monster' is an astonishing magic trick of a film, overwhelming in its compassion. It's quietly magnificent, almost miraculous, pain blossoming into joy, lies made in fear cracking open to reveal hidden, protected, precious truths. This has been a banner 12 months for work from Japan, 'Monster' sitting comfortably next to Wim Wenders' transcendent 'Perfect Days' and Hayao Miyazaki's earth-shattering 'The Boy and the Heron', and in each case, we tap into the capacity of the human spirit to search and find and connect with those around us. This is such a beautiful, heartbreaking, soulful film, exactly the kind we would expect from a director of Kore-eda Hirokazu's stature.