Reviews: Monster

Final Rating: 5/5

If I can get a bit meta for a second, dear reader, I think the act of reviewing or recommending a film is a bit of a game of telephone. Having seen a new film I am (hopefully) excited to share with you, I am faced with the challenge of expressing what the core essence of the film is that makes it so appealing, without ruining the first time experience of watching said film.

If I give a beat by beat description of what happens in detail, for films that rely on a twist or subverted expectation, I fear that when you watch it yourself you’ll be keeping what to expect next in the back of your head, taking you out of the moment. That said, sometimes providing that context is key in order to really be able to explain why a film is good without being vague so as to avoid spoilers. 

I could go with the triangulation approach – referencing other films that share a similar quality, be they from the director himself or other well known movies. This however leaves room for misinterpretation of what elements I am referring to. Of course the ideal would be having you just trust me carte blanche – if I say a film is good, you’ll believe me and go out and watch it. But then what is the point of writing 1000 words to say as much?

To combat that, I always strive to try to point toward specific technical elements I enjoyed, as well as the broader themes and messaging of a film, or at least what I interpret those to be (which admittedly may vary from you with your own lived experience).

In a sense, Hirokazu Kore-eda’s latest film, Monster, is an exploration of this idea of how to interpret what is communicated to you. (If you want my no spoilers recommendation – go see this film. It does somewhat rely on a slow reveal of the “truth” which would be spoiled with further reading of this review). 

If we were to go with my triangulation approach, this combines elements of Kore-eda’s “found family with a bittersweet ending due to the limitations of society” oeuvre alongside the structure of Akira Kurosawa’s triptych Rashomon with a dash of queerness from last year’s Close from Lukas Dhont. In a sense it also draws parallels to this year’s Anatomy of a Fall from Justine Triet in its subject matter. 

The film follows the happenings surrounding a young boy named Minato (Sōya Kurokawa), his single mother Saori (Sakura Andō) and his school teacher Michitoshi Hori (Eita Nagayama). The screenplay begins with the perspective of the single mother who is alarmed at behavioral changes in her son, Minato. Eventually seeming to come to the “truth” that the teacher has been bullying Minato (from calling him pig-brains to even hitting him), it seems we have found the titular monster within the first forty minutes or so and he seems to get his just desserts. 

However we then flashback to the beginning of the movie, and we begin getting the perspective of the teacher, who is shown to be an idealistic, if naive, educator who really wants the best for his students. He has his suspicions that Minato is bullying another child, which suggests perhaps that the son is the monster and he is but a victim caught in his manipulations.

Without spoiling the full contents of the final third act, it is told from the perspective of the son who is shown to have a friendship with the suspected bullying victim that the other children tease him for. The ultimate fate of the two, and the two adults, is ultimately left up for interpretation to the audience, though as far as whom the titular monster is, I suspect much like in other Kore-eda’s works, it is society who cannot let unconventional relationships continue on in peace. 

Aside from the Cannes-winning screenplay (by Yuji Sakamoto, and the first one that Kore-eda has directed that he did not write himself), perhaps the technical element that stood out the most to me was the score, by the legendary Ryuichi Sakamoto, who died shortly after completing the score.

Part of the strength of this film was how each of the three separate acts had a different vibe and atmosphere, from a growing horror to confusion to longing, carried in no small part by the score. In addition, the cinematography which plays into the evocative title to suggest an unsettling horror and the contrast between nature and urban spaces adds to this unease felt throughout.

Ultimately the highest praise I can give Monster is that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how I wanted to craft this review to properly capture what it’s about for me. Beyond just the descriptive qualitative elements of how the plot is structured or how effective the technical elements are, the truth of the matter is that Monster is an experience greater than the sum of its parts, much like the truth is more than just the observable “facts” presented in front of you.

The only true way to get all the context is to experience it for yourself, no matter what I write in this review. While it won’t be recognized at the Oscars this year due to Japan selecting Perfect Days (Ed: read Paulo’s review of Perfect Days here) as their submission, I still urge you to seek it out yourself and see how much that I’ve said here is the truth, and how much is my own interpretation thereof.