​​Many people tell lies of different kinds. Some tell them to escape scrutiny. Some tell them because it makes getting through the day a little easier. And some tell them because they simply have to. But deep down, we all know when we tell a lie that the truth has to come out eventually, especially when it’s the kind that destroys our own lives and sense of happiness. In acclaimed director Hirokazu Kore-eda’s newest Japanese-language drama, Monster, he tackles this very dilemma with precision.

When Saori (Sakura Ando) begins suspecting that her son, Minato (Soya Kurokawa), is getting hurt by his teacher, Hori (Eita Nagayama), she embarks on a quest for answers to find out what is going on behind her son’s eyes. The same story is told three times, but each time from a different perspective, transitioning from Saori, Hori to finally Minato and his childhood friend Yori (Hinata Hiiragi). By the end, the truth emerges from the mud for all to see, although some questions remain purposefully unanswered.

Coming right off of Shoplifters (2018) and Broker (2022), two emotional dramas about chosen families, Kore-eda’s latest film ventures into thriller territory while still maintaining the central heart of his past work. It’s no wonder when watching Monster why this won the Queer Palme and Best Screenplay awards at the 2023 Cannes Film Festival: this is one of Kore-eda’s best, most complex films yet.

Through this unraveling story, Kore-eda explores perception and how the harmful assumptions people hold about others are the monster that divides us the most. Each new chapter of this film not only itches closer to the full truth but deepens the audience’s understanding of everything that came before. “What actually happened doesn’t matter,” Principal Fushimi (Yûko Tanaka) tells Hori at one point, but Kore-eda’s storytelling device sets out to explain why it actually does.

While Kore-eda typically directs his own scripts, here he helms a script written by Yûji Sakamoto that falls perfectly in line with Kore-eda’s naturalistic directing style. The writing gives the space for the audience to understand where each character is coming from, ultimately allowing us to see them beyond the image that has publicly emerged about them. The recurring motifs of fire, the anchor point for each of the separate chapters, and how characters label what they don’t understand as a “Monster” all point to the ways that the various characters’ stringent beliefs hurt others.

Every choice introduced has a way of coming full circle in unexpected ways. Most notably, the loud sound of a blaring horn played throughout major dramatic cruxes of the story comes back in an unexpectedly moving moment between Principal Fushimi and Minato. No artistic decision is made in isolation, just one of the many reasons why Kore-eda continues to be such an exciting voice in film.

One of the strongest themes that emerges by the end is the loss of childhood innocence, especially as Minato and Yori are forced to suppress their growing feelings for each other, both in school and at home. Yori’s father tells him that he can “cure his disease,” while Saori can’t seem to understand why Minato would ever cut his hair. The place where the two boys go to get away from everything is a van parked in the deep weeds of a forest, the green trees and forest providing another strong visual motif throughout the film. The green forest that once seemed so intimidating when introduced from the perspective of Saori eventually opens up to a field of joy and laughter.

The boundary separating the outside world slowly caves in though, testing the bond between the two boys as Minato tells Yori not to talk to him at school. The generational divide and the things that children keep hidden from their parents is another theme Kore-eda explores to great effect.

Kore-eda films consistently feature a strong ensemble, and that rings true here, especially in the scenes set in school that require almost all of the main cast to interact with each other. Each performance is rich with dramatic irony, bringing each character’s faults to life with honesty. The highlight of the entire cast is Ando’s performance as Minato’s mother, an emotionally raw and intense turn that starts the film off on a high note. The two young performers, Kurokawa and Hiiragi, also deserve praise for conveying emotions and deep pain in their most silent moments.

Most importantly, Monster is about the lies we tell ourselves and how dangerous it can be when we start to actually believe them. The final moments tap into Kore-eda’s ability to turn any audience member into a puddle of tears, especially when least expected. While the slower pacing and gradual reveal of information may isolate some viewers, it all pays off in a celebration of identity and the taste of freedom once the truth is set free.

Review Courtesy of Matt Minton at NewFest 2023

Feature IMage Credit to Gaga; Toho; Fuji Television Network; AOI Pro; Bun-Buku via Variety