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And, indeed, I will ask on my own account here, an idle question: which is better—cheap happiness or exalted sufferings? Well, which is better?---Fyodor Dostoevsky ---Notes from Underground Fyodor Dostoevsky ---Notes from Underground Even now, so many years later, all this is somehow a very evil memory. I have many evil memories now, but ... hadn’t I better end my “Notes” here? I believe I made a mistake in beginning to write them, anyway I have felt ashamed all the time I’ve been writing this story; so it’s hardly literature so much as a corrective punishment. Why, to tell long stories, showing how I have spoiled my life through morally rotting in my corner, through lack of fitting environment, through divorce from real life, and rankling spite in my underground world, would certainly not be interesting; a novel needs a hero, and all the traits for an anti-hero are expressly gathered together here, and what matters most, it all produces an unpleasant impression, for we are...
Hope
To be human is to be a miracle of evolution conscious of its own miraculousness — a consciousness beautiful and bittersweet, for we have paid for it with a parallel awareness not only of our fundamental improbability but of our staggering fragility, of how physiologically precarious our survival is and how psychologically vulnerable our sanity. To make that awareness bearable, we have evolved a singular faculty that might just be the crowning miracle of our consciousness: hope.--
Erich Fromm
Monster (2023)
Monster
(怪物, Kaibutsu) — A Film by Hirokazu Kore-eda
Lovingly detailed and accented by an aching score from Ryuichi Sakamoto, who died in March, “Monster” is one of the finest films of the year, and its structure — like its circle of characters — carries secrets that can only be unraveled through patience and empathy
Directed by Hirokazu Kore-eda (“Broker,” “Shoplifters”) and written by Yuji Sakamoto, “Monster” opens as Minato (Soya Kurokawa), a sensitive preteen, begins fifth grade. His single mom, Saori (Sakura Ando), grows concerned when Minato comes home distressed and with injuries. She soon casts blame on his teacher, Hori (Eita Nagayama), who is fired over the accusation.The action begins with a building burning to the ground, a dramatic blaze against the night sky, and this spectacular event makes a convenient starting point when the action is replayed. The building is the site of a sleazy hostess-bar, and a scandalous rumour runs around that local schoolteacher Mr Hori (Eita Nagayami) was one of the customers. Single mum Saori (Sakura Ando) has heard this tale and is thus perhaps already disposed to think ill of the man; her son Minato (Soya Kurokawa) then comes home from school saying that Mr Hori has humiliated him with a bizarre “pig brain” insult (or has Minato appropriated that insult from elsewhere?) and the teacher also appears to have hit him.
Furious Saori storms into the office of the principal (Yûko Tanaka) – a woman already almost catatonic with grief for a dead grandson – demanding an explanation, and the school attempts to fob her off with a bizarrely formal, legalistic apology, complete with bowing from Hori and three colleagues. This is an event so utterly insincere and irrelevant to her request for a clear explanation that Saori only becomes more livid. But then mumbling Mr Hori snaps, and tells her that Minato was bullying another child: sensitive, imaginative Eri (Hinata Hiiragi).
Monster isn’t about what it initially appears to be; the narrative peels away the diversionary misapprehensions until it arrives at its emotional kernel of truth, and the film offers us hope, not despair. The performances from Sakura Ando, Eita Nagayami and the boys have a calm frankness and integrity. As for the story itself, it is arguably a little contrived with a thicket of mystery that perhaps didn’t need to be so dense. But this is a film created with a great moral intelligence and humanity.
Monster is a movie that does not render up its meanings easily in general, and its repeated motif is to replay the same events from a different viewpoint; in another type of film this might deliver the smooth and gratifying narrative click of a twist-reveal falling into place, but here it has a way of raising more questions than answers.
https://www.theguardian.com/film/2023/may/17/monster-review-hydra-of-modern-morals-and-manners
Kore-eda: sexual identity not the focus in film 'Monster'
Few contemporary directors capture the quiet, intricate spaces of human relationships quite like Hirokazu Koreeda. Often hailed as the spiritual heir to Yasujirō Ozu—though he frequently cites Kenji Hou Hsiao-hsien and Mikio Naruse as equally profound influences—Koreeda’s cinema is a masterclass in empathy, memory, and the shifting definition of the modern family.
What makes his work so distinct is his background in documentary filmmaking. He doesn't rely on grand melodrama to move an audience; instead, he watches, allowing profound emotional truths to emerge from the mundane rhythms of daily life—cooking meals, sharing jokes, or navigating the quiet aftermath of a tragedy.
Core Thematic Pillars
1. The Deconstruction of Family
If there is a singular question that haunts Koreeda’s filmography, it is: What makes a family? Is it blood, or is it choice and shared time?
In Like Father, Like Son (2013), he directly pits nature against nurture when two families discover their six-year-old sons were switched at birth.
In Shoplifters (2018), he takes this to its radical conclusion, presenting a makeshift family of societal outcasts bonded not by DNA, but by mutual survival and a profound, albeit complicated, love.
2. Absence, Grief, and the Afterlife
Koreeda rarely deals with the immediate, explosive shock of loss. Instead, he is fascinated by the space left behind by those who are gone, and how the living carry that weight.
His fiction debut, Maborosi (1995), is a stunning, deeply atmospheric exploration of a young woman trying to understand her husband's sudden, inexplicable suicide.
Still Walking (2008), arguably his finest masterpiece, takes place over a single day as a family gathers to commemorate the death of the eldest son who drowned fifteen years prior. The grief isn't loud; it is baked into the passive-aggressive remarks of the parents and the heavy air of the household.
After Life (1998) approaches the concept from a brilliantly high-concept, yet deeply humanistic angle: the recently deceased arrive at a midway station where they must select just one memory to take with them into eternity, which a crew of celestial bureaucrats then recreates on film.
3. The Perspective of Children
Koreeda is universally recognized for his unparalleled ability to direct child actors, coaxing performances that feel entirely unscripted and authentic. He famously doesn't give children scripts; instead, he explains the situation on set and lets them react naturally.
Nobody Knows (2004) stands as one of the most devastating portraits of childhood in cinema. Based on the true story of the 1988 Sugamo child abandonment case, Koreeda avoids sensationalism, focusing instead on the resilient, heartbreaking micro-society the four abandoned siblings build within their tiny apartment.
Monster (2023) shifts perspectives Rashomon-style to explore a troubling incident at a school, ultimately revealing a tender, deeply moving story of childhood identity and confusion hidden beneath the misunderstandings of adults.
Technical Style: The Art of the Everyday
Koreeda’s visual grammar is deliberately unobtrusive, serving the intimacy of his stories rather than drawing attention to itself.
The Medium Shot and the Ensemble: He frequently favors medium shots that encompass multiple characters within a frame, allowing us to watch the subtle chemistry, glances, and physical dynamics between family members.
Naturalism and Light: Working with brilliant cinematographers like the late Yutaka Yamazaki and, more recently, Ryuto Kondo (Shoplifters), Koreeda relies heavily on natural light. His interiors often feel lived-in, slightly cluttered, and warm, mimicking the authentic domestic spaces of Japanese homes.
The Rhythm of Food: Food is practically a character in Koreeda's films. The peeling of a radish, the frying of tempura, or the sharing of a specific childhood snack (Still Walking) serves as a vehicle for memory, a peace offering, or a silent indicator of unspoken tension.
Key Filmography Breakdown
| Film | Year | Key Significance |
| After Life | 1998 | A poetic, metacinematic exploration of memory and what truly validates a human life. |
| Nobody Knows | 2004 | Established his international reputation as a premier director of youth, earning Yūya Yagira the Best Actor award at Cannes at just 14 years old. |
| Still Walking | 2008 | His most personal film, written shortly after the passing of his own mother; a quiet, devastatingly accurate look at family friction. |
| Our Little Sister | 2015 | A gentler, deeply empathetic adaptation of the manga Umimachi Diary, celebrating sisterhood and healing against the backdrop of Kamakura. |
| Shoplifters | 2018 | Winner of the Palme d'Or at Cannes. A fierce yet tender critique of modern societal safety nets and a beautiful defense of chosen family. |
| Broker | 2022 | His first Korean-language feature, starring Song Kang-ho, exploring the ethics of "baby boxes" and found-family on a road trip. |
Koreeda’s cinema remains a vital reminder of what film can achieve when it casts aside cynicism. He looks at human flaws, failures, and societal marginalization not to judge, but to understand.
"The world isn’t perfect, but even within the flaws, there are moments of grace."
— An underlying philosophy of Kore-eda's cinema
Synopsis & Narrative Structure
The film is divided into three distinct acts, each following the same timeline but through a different set of eyes. It begins with a fire at a building in a small Japanese city and ends with a powerful rainstorm.
Act I: The Mother (Saori)
Saori, a widowed single mother, becomes increasingly concerned when her son, Minato, begins acting strangely—cutting his own hair, losing a shoe, and claiming his brain has been replaced by a "pig's brain." She eventually suspects his teacher, Mr. Hori, of physical and emotional abuse. When she confronts the school, she is met with a wall of cold, robotic apologies that feel like a cover-up, painting Mr. Hori as a villain.
Act II: The Teacher (Mr. Hori)
The perspective shifts to Mr. Hori. We see that many of the events Saori perceived as abuse were actually misunderstandings or Hori's attempts to intervene in what he believed was Minato bullying a smaller classmate, Yori. Hori is a well-meaning but socially awkward man whose life is ruined by rumor and the school's desire to protect its reputation over the truth.
Act III: The Children (Minato & Yori)
The final act reveals the heart of the film. It follows the secret friendship between Minato and Yori. We learn that Yori is being abused by his alcoholic father for not being "masculine," and Minato is struggling with his own growing romantic feelings for Yori. Their "strange" behavior was a private language and a search for a place where they could be "reborn" into a world that accepts them.
Music: The Legacy of Ryuichi Sakamoto
The film features the final original score by the world-renowned composer Ryuichi Sakamoto.
Composition: Due to his declining health, Sakamoto was unable to score the entire film from scratch. He provided two new piano pieces and allowed Kore-eda to use compositions from his final album, 12.
Atmosphere: The music is minimalist and elegiac, often highlighting the isolation of the characters and the natural beauty of the Japanese landscape.
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