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Rating: Kaibutsu, which means monster in Japanese, is the original title of the new film by the master Kore'eda. But who is this monster? Is it the teacher Hori, the boy Minato, his mother Sakura, the principal, the classmates? Nothing can be taken for granted in this tripartite work, where the same events (more or less) are seen from three different perspectives: that of the mother, that of the teacher, and finally that of the young student protagonist.
Progressively, we get closer and closer to a true understanding of the events, which essentially concern the relationships among schoolmates and those between students and teachers. Misunderstandings are everywhere in such a rigid society as the Japanese one, where form and appearance seem to prevail over substance, over the truth of things.
With the emergence of these misunderstandings (Is Minato bullied or a bully? Is the teacher really abusive or the victim of a conspiracy?), all the superficiality with which adults think they understand teenagers comes to light. Essentially, they start with certain ideas and interpret the subsequent facts only as elements to reinforce their theses, disregarding nuances and doubts. Typically, when one falls in love with an idea, they select only those facts that support it.
The mother does it, the teacher does it. A lack of understanding that is present in both images and words. Minato and his peers are rarely shown facing the camera in the first two parts, the glances of adults and those of the teens hardly ever meet. A closure that is also present in the dialogues, which are always inadequate or unnatural: the mother protests with the school but receives preset answers, the teacher would like to tell the truth (or rather, his truth) to the mother, but is constantly stopped and censored by colleagues, Minato himself cannot express himself, cannot tell his true feelings because society would condemn him to unhappiness. And so he lies.
Distances, silences, lies: life becomes an incomprehensible sphinx, actions and reactions no longer align, leading to a loss of meaning, a disorientation of meanings and their rational hold. It seems the boy does absurd things, but only because the mother (and the teacher) do not truly know his feelings, his habits, or they see only part of the facts and think they can easily reach a conclusion.
However, when we enter the world of the kids, everything changes. From cold and hostile, everything turns vivid and verdant. And sense becomes full again, everything has its logic, even actions that might appear more vile are in truth mechanisms of (self)defense, processes that are far from irrational linked to the dynamics of the group (not easy) inherent in a school class.
A great lesson from master Kore'eda, who perhaps pays a little the price of a very rigid first part (as is necessary, given the plot) on the cold world of adults. However, it's impossible not to be impressed by the tripartite management of the events; here the "fragmented" time has strong diegetic and thematic motivations, unlike some recent films that wanted only to complicate banal stories.
The "cyclical" time tells us all the difficulty in establishing a single truth, especially in such a formal society as the Japanese one. Before judging and denouncing, then, perhaps it would be better to stop and reflect a little, to communicate, trying to understand the people around us. A film that deserves to be seen by any parent or teacher.
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