Monster

Consider the ways in which we absorb the world. Firsthand experience, of course, and the influence of the cultural and societal spheres that help to shape our cognitive minds. But think about the importance of what people tell us, and how easily, how quickly, we take that information as truth (that eternally overburdened word), and how naturally it becomes received wisdom to pass on to others. Rumors, stereotypes, doctrines, whole systems of belief spawned by word of mouth, preaching the gospel, trending lifestyle appetites. So much of what we choose to believe hinges on these frequently dubious sources.

How misperceptions accumulate into harmful things is one of the key themes explored in the mystery Monster, the 16th feature from Japanese filmmaker Hirokazu Kore-eda (Shoplifters, The Truth). Structured after the perspective-shifting classic Rashomon (or Gone Girl, if a more recent allusion suits you), the film introduces us to the young widow Saori (Ando) and her fifth-grade son, Minato (Kurokawa). Saori has begun to notice some odd behavior in her son: impulsive haircuts, a trashed bedroom, pronounced moodiness, missing footwear. And while some of this can be chalked up to the onset of puberty, when Minato comes home one day with a bandaged ear and tales of being hit by his teacher, Mr. Hori (Nagayama), Saori visits his school to confront the principal (Tanaka). But Minato is not the only one acting oddly here, as multiple meetings with said principal and her staff consist of blank looks, obfuscation, and stonewalling in the form of rehearsed school policy statements. Finally, an animated Mr. Hori spits out that Minato has been bullying one of his classmates, Yori (Hiiragi). A disbelieving Saori mounts her own investigation.

As do we, the narrative shifting back to follow Mr. Hori this time, and shifting again later to tell the story through the eyes of Minato and Yori, the film resetting from a literal sparking point of a building fire in the neighborhood. Uncovering the complex threads of the lies and misunderstandings and how they affect the characters is like watching an extension of the game telephone. Yūji Sakamoto’s script is a brilliantly constructed puzzle, and the breadcrumb trails of clues that litter the film have a naturalism that belie its inherent structural constraints. That would be enough to make Monster a great film, the title uttered a number of times in reference to nearly every player in the story, but whose meaning ends up transcending into something beautiful. But Kore-eda, no stranger to working with children, has captured an indelible depiction of early adolescence, with Kurokawa and Hiiragi giving two of the most profoundly genuine performances on film. Watching them navigate the world feels like watching the truth. Take my word for it.