I'll open this one by saying I can't help but stay intrigued by Ryusuke Hamaguchi.
He broke through in a big way with Drive My Car but before that he was quietly refining his style in films like Happy Hour and Asako I & II. His work sits between genres, blending the emotional with the philosophical — something Evil Does Not Exist captures beautifully.
The story unfolds in the fictional village of Mizubiki, a rural community nestled in Nagano’s hauntingly beautiful mountains. Takumi, a widower, lives quietly with his daughter Hana, sustaining himself through odd jobs for the locals.
When a talent agency proposes building a nearby glamping site, the villagers unite in protest, fearing it will poison their water supply and disrupt their fragile balance.
Takumi becomes an unlikely guide for two company employees, introducing them to the rhythms and customs of village life. Their presence is awkward from the outset, and the longer they stay, the more they unsettle both the environment and Takumi himself.
Through this tension, Hamaguchi gently exposes the clash between capitalist convenience and the natural world.
What struck me most is the film’s patience. Hamaguchi lingers on quiet moments, allowing an unnerving stillness to take hold before anything overtly happens. That restraint becomes the film’s pulse — something always feels slightly off.
It invites you into beauty before reminding you that destruction doesn’t only come from systems, but from people too, especially when they’re wounded or afraid.
Evil Does Not Exist may not be as immediately accessible as Drive My Car, but it feels just as vital. It’s a film about what remains unseen: the slow, invisible forces shaping our world, often driven by well-meaning people trying — and failing — to live in harmony with their surroundings.
Well worth checking out.