Film rated PG-13 by the MPA

As I enter my mid 20’s and my taste in films matures, one of the things that I’ve come to value greatly in the language of cinema is the ‘uncomfortable silence.’ This idea that something is bubbling below the surface that can only be seen by studying the little details of a character’s expression and body language.

Evil Does Not Exist (Ryusuke Hamaguchi, 2024) is an unusually quiet film, with the stoicism of widowed father Takumi taking centre stage. He methodically walks through a picturesque village in Japan whilst caring for the forest and his daughter, embracing the quiet and solitude afforded by the plentiful nature with reverence.

However, this silence whittles away into something far more sinister when representatives from a big corporation propose a glamping site in the forest which would lead to the village’s prized water, renowned for its purity, polluted.

The effects of climate change, and the mega corps that hasten the process through their disregard for nature, burning of fossil fuels and generally unsustainable practices, is one that is felt by everyone. And yet, despite the noticeable effects, many of us remain silent.

We scowl as air quality decreases, heat becomes unbearable and wildlife suffers, but how far can you go, and would you go, to protect the planet for which we have been designated as caretakers?

This question is at the heart of Evil Does Not Exist and, in a move that may be a detractor for some, is not answered in a straightforward way.

For Takumi, his silence reveals a strong desire to uphold the surrounding nature and not destabilize it, so much so that he is willing to physically retaliate against people that could upset this balance, regardless of intention.

For corporate representatives Takahashi and Mayuzumi, they emphatically proclaim a willingness to learn and fight against their employers, only to display an innocent ignorance that could jeopardise the balance.

Hamaguchi tells this story through a wonderful sense of control that is certainly more on the slow paced side but is equal amounts realistic and hypnotic in its frigidity, and comforting in its small bursts of warmth.

The film’s realism is only further heightened by the entire cast consisting of non-actors, a method unfortunately underutilised in most modern films, but used here to shy away from big speeches, overacting and turning these characters into more than what they are.

They are quiet, contemplative and complicated, never showing the full hand of their emotions until they reach their limit.
It’s this sense of control, this grounding of the setting and the theme that made this such an entrancing watch for me. Though the film does take liberties with pacing, it all serves a strong purpose of leaving enough ground for you to reflect on your own beliefs.

I can’t say I have a definitive answer for everything on display here, and it will likely take years of maturing and re-watching to understand what is behind these characters’ silence. However, the very prospect of that makes this what I consider to be essential contemporary film viewing, as a deeply meditative movie about the state of our environment and what we believe in.