Monster

Hirokazu Koreeda and the late Ryuichi Sakamoto deliver a storytelling masterclass with their work on Monster. Three perspectives, each differing in tone, are woven together, revealing a tapestry of truth and identity.

A single mother, Saori, delicately played by Sakura Andô, notices distress in her son Minato (Soya Kurokawa) when he comes home from school with bruises, missing a shoe, and impulsively cutting his hair, becoming a shell of the son she raised. With ever-increasing concerns, Saori presses her son after hospitalising himself, and only then does he reveal his tormenter: his teacher, Mr. Hori (Eita Nagayama).

Enraged, Saori seeks retribution and repentance from the school for its employment of the newly-hired teacher; however, the bureaucracy of protecting the institution’s image, the broader Japanese culture of forgiveness and manners, as well as an apathetic grieving headteacher, delivered by Yūko Tanaka with a stoic sensibility, makes it a constant up-hill battle to protect her son. What transpires in Koreeda’s demonstration of nuance filmmaking knowingly pushing the frustrative repetition of the lengths a parent would go to for their son with tonal precision.

The battle against an educational institution suffices as an engaging drama for any good director to dissect the relationships and nuances of behaviour. Koreeda proves that he’s one of the greats by introducing two further perspectives of the story, each adding their truth to the issues and painting a clearer picture of the story. After spending a while with the mother and her uphill battle resulting in a public apology, we jump cut back a few days before a skyscraper burns. Now, we see the world from the standpoint of the accused abusive teacher.

Cleverly, Koreeda ensures that audiences carry their spite over into this new story. We hear rumours that the teacher is a loner, a regular at a hostess bar, and from this, we piece together a crude justification for his violence towards the boy. However, here we finally see the supposed harm the teacher caused, from his perspective, an accident. An accident sparked from separating Minato from bullying another student, Yori (Hinata Hiiragi). Hori’s interference is one of many instances of drawn-out torture that sees Minato lock Yori in the toilets, throwing his belongings, and exiling him from socialising.

The final perspective sees the broader picture told through the innocence of Minato’s eyes. Audiences are then invited to weave the truth from all three stories, each tale presenting its villainous Monster and each entirely truthful to its teller. Through this perspective navigation, Monster is a phenomenal work and affirms its best screenplay award at the Festival de Cannes.

Further, with the subtlety of its score, composed by the late Ryuichi Sakamoto, the minutia of truth is tenderly handled. The wide, static shots marry Sakamoto’s trademark percussive string arrangements, which encompass the audience’s emotions and expectations for its story, transforming its story into a triumphant mastering of cinema. The loneliness of the expansive frame reverberates within the single-mother, the teacher, the grieving headmistress and the drunken father, all whilst Sakamoto’s delicate score underpins its emotive weight.

Ultimately, the title of Monster may suggest an individual, a collective, or a criminal force at play. Still, by presenting the story through a child’s eye, audiences could infer that the monster is also merely a construct of imagination, an illusion warping the truth caused by naivety and misunderstanding of the world. Either way, Koreeda’s understanding of cinema is polished and demonstrates how to create an accomplished and robust narrative that future filmmakers should observe for inspiration.

Monster is in select UK cinemas from 15 March.