Monster
Hirokazu Kore-eda takes the audience to unexpected places in a consciously elusive tale of compassion
Superbly scored by Ryuichi Sakamoto in his final film work, Monster is an ever-shifting three-headed creature that escapes definition. Kore-eda's latest follows a trio of POVs, crafting an intricate tapestry of multiple accounts regarding the relationship between two young boys, Minato (Sōya Kurokawa) and Yori (Hinata Hiiragi).
Parental apprehension, a societal penchant for keeping up appearances and a perverse relief in pointing fingers come together in Minato's conflicted prelude to adolescence. His widowed mother (Shoplifters' Sakura Andō) fears he may have been abused by his teacher, Mr Hori (Eita Nagayama), who, in turn, insists her son is a bully and torments the socially awkward Yori. The truth lies in both their versions, and somewhere else entirely at once, and Monster treads carefully not to crucify a culprit. The film exposes our prejudices, working relentlessly within a circular, programmatic structure to hand us different pairs of shoes in which to walk.
Monster's form lends itself to an easy comparison to Rashomon but rejects that film's competing relativism in favour of a more slippery and intimate set of coexisting perspectives that can't, and perhaps shouldn't, be fully grasped. Peeling back layers of narrative that initially seemed straightforward, Kore-eda rewards his audience with a moral whodunnit where the resolution doesn't really matter, allowing us to walk gently when invited into the lived experiences of others. The movie shines brightest when the children can finally speak their own language in a finale that abandons the intriguing, horror-tinged hues of the first half and lets the light in.
Released 15 Mar by Picturehouse; certificate 12A