Everything flows downstream. That’s the recurring theme of Evil Does Not Exist. It’s also one of the film’s recurring visual motifs. The genius is its simplicity. It also serves to set up the film’s biggest wallop, which lands in two waves. First, there’s the shock and befuddlement of the film’s ending. The second wave, for me at least, arrived roughly a half-hour after I finished the film and was still turning it over and over in my mind. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Following his 2021 twofer of Drive My Car and Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy, Ryusuke Hamaguchi has crafted another in a long line of lived in dramas that prove as enriching as it is devastating with Evil Does Not Exist. The movie is set in a small Japanese town, Mizubiki, and tells the story of the town’s efforts to preserve its way of life in the face of capitalism. The story mostly follows Takumi (Hitoshi Omika), a self-described “odd job man” who helps all over. Mizubiki is a quiet place where the people and nature share a tranquil atmosphere. That’s threatened by the potential development of a glamping (glamorous camping) site meant to boost tourism in Mizubiki.
Hamaguchi sets the mood early with a nearly wordless 10 minute opening scene capturing the scenery of the forest and Takumi as he goes about his daily tasks (collecting water, chopping wood). With a fabulous score by Eiko Ishibashi, this sequence is downright blissful. It’s hard to watch this and not be envious. When Takumi is late to pick up his daughter, Hana (Ryo Nishikawa), there’s no concern from anyone when the teacher tells him that Hana left on her own. That’s a level of calmness and neighborliness that is simultaneously enviable and terrifying.
When the representatives for the glamping site show up for a town meeting to present the idea and take questions, they assume the whole thing is a formality. To the developers, the construction of the site is a foregone conclusion and the meeting is just a box to tick off. The reps, Takahashi (Ryuji Kosaka) and Mayuzumi (Ayaka Shibutani), are thoroughly taken to task by Takumi and the rest of the townsfolk who point out flaw after flaw in the plan. Among the issues is a poorly placed septic tank that is not sufficient to handle the glamping site’s projected traffic and will lead to sewage in the water for a nearby community. The presentation scene is long to the point where viewers almost feel bad for Takahashi and Mayuzumi. They’re so thoroughly trampled by the town’s comments that even when they shift gears and become more personable they almost come across as disingenuous. The town’s anger is justified, and opens a new possibility for the narrative. The veil of peacefulness has been punctured and the locals show a protectiveness that promises they won’t sit idly by while the glamping developers, or anyone else, intrudes on their space.
Evil Does Not Exist becomes more foreboding as it moves along, deceptively so. Hamaguchi invests so much time into showing these characters go through their day to day routines that it lures viewers into a false sense of security. It may appear as though the way of life in Mizubiki is pleasantly monotonous. The reality is that both the people and nature are in a constant state of flux, recalibrating to each day’s challenges. Going through the film a second time Hamaguchi’s plan becomes breathtakingly clear. This is a story as old as time, one that emphasizes the resiliency of nature, be that human nature or the natural wonders of the world.
By the time Evil Does Not Exist reaches its conclusion, it feels like everything has been upended, but the balance has been restored. It’s paradoxical and completely logical. I am bowled over by this film and in awe of Hamaguchi’s craft.
Criterion Collection issued Evil Does Not Exist on Blu-ray through its Janus Contemporaries offshoot. It doesn’t come with the benefit of Criterion’s typical generous set of features, but it does allow for recent films to be available faster than usual. The Evil Does Not Exist release comes with only a booklet essay and a brief interview with Hamaguchi. Both are worth checking out, but Evil Does Not Exist is a good fit for a sparse release. Its mysteries are best explored by rewatching the movie and not digging into the nuts and bolts of its making. The longer I sit with the film and go back to it, the higher it rises on my best of 2024 list.
