Monster
Manager: Hirokazu Kore-eda
Artists: Soya Kurokawa, Hiiragi Hinata, Sakura Ando
Premiere: 29.09.2023
Punctuation: * * *
Kore-eda, a figure who has consistently pressed the boundaries of cinema without surrendering to routine, offers a study in perception and responsibility that continues to resonate with audiences in North America and beyond. Each year, a filmmaker’s rhythm can waver—creative impulses may feel sputtering or bloom only in fits and starts. Yet Kore-eda keeps his trajectory steady by choosing fresh formats and narrative angles instead of chasing familiar themes. After the global success of Broker in South Korea, and following the intimate, dialogue-driven explorations seen in The Truth, he returns to the screen with a concept that unfolds like a modern fable and a social mirror. The Monster builds on his ongoing interest in family dynamics, the ethics of judgment, and the elusive line between truth and memory. The project also echoes his broader body of work, which often blends intimate character studies with social observation, much as his compatriot Akira Kurosawa once did with Rashomon, a cinematic touchstone Kore-eda respects for its multi-perspective storytelling.
Kore-eda consistently challenges audiences to look beyond the obvious and question the reliability of what they see. Monster does not present a single, tidy version of events. Instead, it stages three distinct viewpoints, each filtered through the lens of a different participant in a shared incident: two children, the mother of one of the children, and the teacher accused of wrongdoing. This structure invites a nuanced examination of how memory shapes moral judgment and how bias can distort even the most well-intentioned statements. The film’s approach invites viewers to assemble the truth from fragments, recognizing that each perspective carries its own emotional truth even as it omits other facets of the whole picture. Kore-eda’s method is deliberately observational; he refrains from overt moralizing and instead offers a space where contradictions, desires, and personal deceptions can coexist, prompting reflection on accountability in everyday life.
The narrative’s tension arises not merely from the central incident but from the way each version reframes what happened and why it happened. By layering viewpoints, Kore-eda demonstrates how social pressures, parental concerns, and institutional authority interact to shape what individuals choose to reveal and conceal. The film’s characters are portrayed with sympathy and complexity, avoiding simplistic judgments that could flatten the moral questions at stake. In this sense, Monster becomes less about proving a single truth and more about understanding how truth itself evolves when observed through different emotional and cognitive prisms. It’s a film that invites conversation long after the final scene, encouraging audiences to consider their own responses to ambiguous situations and to examine how cultural narratives influence the way stories are told and remembered.
From a technical standpoint, the film continues Kore-eda’s tradition of meticulous character development framed by precise, unshowy cinematography. The performances—especially from the child actors and Sakura Ando’s portrayal—provide a grounded realism that allows the audience to inhabit each viewpoint without being pushed toward a single interpretive stance. The pacing supports the gradual revelation of motivations, creating a quiet propulsion that mirrors real-life conversations and the often incomplete nature of human memory. While the narrative structure nods to Rashomon, the execution remains unmistakably Kore-eda: intimate, humane, and quietly skeptical of easy answers. The film’s emotional landscape is further enriched by its willingness to acknowledge discomfort and ambiguity as essential elements of moral life. In this way, Monster stands as a thoughtful contribution to contemporary cinema, one that honors the legacy of its influences while asserting its own voice about truth, memory, and the responsibilities we bear toward others.