With his recent films like Broker, Shoplifters, Our Little Sister, and Like Father Like Son, Japanese filmmaker Hirokazu Kore-eda has cemented himself as one of this era’s finest directors of achingly sincere humanistic tales. All of those aforementioned stories unfold as raw and nuanced explorations of the messy tangled ties of family, and his latest drama Monster continues that trend in ambitious fashion.
Right from the start, Monster juggles emotion and intrigue as single mother Saori (Sakura Andō) and her son Minato (Sōya Kurokawa) watch a building fire from their apartment balcony. Both the fire, its perpetrator and motive, and the family and their soon-to-metamorphosize bond are central pillars in Monster’s non-linear and deliberately tangled narrative, connected in ways that will emerge Rashomon-like across its two hours. The first act is the film at its most murky and intense, as Saori is confronted with her son’s unusual comments about events at school and increasingly troubled behavior. The spiral of motherly fears and school administration obfuscation takes on a sinister edge: what secrets are being concealed, how can such parental concerns be so dismissively handled, is fifth grade teacher Hori (Eita Nagayama) the monster of the film given his confession of hitting the boy. The first act is one fraught with shame, anger, fear and mystery, amassing a disoriented sense of whirlwind absurdity that mirrors Saori’s upended view of her son.
Then the perspective switches, exploring Hori’s side of events, and Kore-eda reveals the taut structure within this interweaved drama. With new angles comes new context, words and actions seen as monstrous by a mother’s outside view are given nuance as the struggle between classroom cruelty and teacher compassion unfolds. Through it all, Sōya Kurokawa as Minato acts as a central grounding anchor for these revolving perspectives; the peek into those other characters’ lives and drama always loop around to peel more layers from the boy’s story until the final act plays its ultimate hand of placing Minato centerstage.
With the final perspective switch, complete with the arrival of a tempest as if to further cement the Rashomon nods, it becomes clear that writer Yûji Sakamoto’s fingerprints are all over Monster just as much as Kore-eda’s warm sincere drama. Monster’s illuminating final chapter brings the honest and heartwarming romance of Sakamoto’s last film script We Made a Beautiful Bouquet into the realm of schoolyard coming-of-age confusion. Suddenly the convoluted structure becomes crystal clear in its purpose, a harmony between narrative and dramatic intent that acts as a crash course in acceptance. Sinister events half-understood by a fearful mother, confusing aftermaths witnessed by a caring teacher, all become a sweet tale of connection and self-discovery, of childhood adventure blossoming both amongst adult concerns and far away from adult eyes.
With his latest film, Hirokazu Kore-eda and Yûji Sakamoto clearly wield the classic nesting-doll structure of Rashomon not to dissect or ferret out truth, but as a guiding hand toward one important truth. Mother, teacher, son: each perspective bringing their own tone and drama, all subtly acting as stage setting for Monster’s triumphant finale. It’s a long twisting journey there, but the destination is rewarding nonetheless.
Photo courtesy of Well Go USA Entertainment
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