Things I Watched: Evil Does Not Exist – A haunting take on power and nature

I can’t help but stay intrigued by Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s filmmaking. He broke through in a big way with Drive My Car, but before that was quietly refining his style in films like Happy Hour and Asako I & II. His work always feels on the verge of multiple genres, blurring emotional lines with the philosophical – something Evil Does Not Exist once again captures beautifully.

The story unfolds in the fictional village of Mizubiki, a rural place nestled in Nagano’s hauntingly beautiful mountains. Takumi, a widower, lives quietly with his daughter, Hana, getting by through odd jobs for the locals. When a talent agency proposes building a glamping site nearby, the townsfolk rally in protest, fearing it will poison their water supply and erode their fragile harmony.

Takumi becomes an unlikely guide for two company employees, showing them the rhythms of village life and slowly easing them into the customs. Their presence is awkward from the start, and the longer they stay, the more they unsettle both the landscape and Takumi himself. Hamaguchi uses this tension to reveal the clash between capitalist convenience and the natural world.

What impresses me most is how the film lingers on quiet moments, building unnerving stillness before something finally breaks. That patience becomes the story’s heartbeat as something always feels off. It invites us into something beautiful before showcasing that destruction doesn’t just come from systems but also people when they’re wounded or afraid.

While Evil Does Not Exist may not be as immediately accessible as Drive My Car it feels just as vital. It’s a film about what remains unseen. The slow, invisible forces shaping our world, even when they come from well-meaning people just trying to understand the environment they inhabit.

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