Die Unschuld

Ein zartes Erzählen, das gleich zwei gesellschaftliche Themen behandelt: die absurde Struktur des Schulsystems, in dem die Kinder mehr Rechte als die Lehrer haben, und die Queer-Problematik in Form des frühen Bewusstseins über die eigene Sexualität bei einem verängstigten Kind. Es werden mehrere Schlüsselmomente im Schulmilieu aus verschiedenen Perspektiven der Beteiligten beobachtet, deren persönliches oder berufliches Leben davon betroffen ist. Ein gut geschriebener dialogreicher Film mit leisen starken Momenten. [San Sebastian IFF] (24.09.2023)

Filmfestival in San Sebastian, Film Nummer 2. Nach einem guten Start kam ein erfolgreicher Festival-Film aus Japan, der ein klassisches Film-Puzzle bietet –⁠ die Zuschauer*innen müssen sich äußerst konzentrieren, um nichts zu verpassen. Die Autoren haben sich wirklich angestrengt, daher muss man praktisch jedes Wort verfolgen. Die gewählten Worte wirken manchmal sehr amüsant, die Zuschauer*innen bemerken aber später, dass diese Worte aus einem anderen Blickwinkel am passendsten sind. Der Film eröffnet wichtige aktuelle Themen und betont, dass niemand die Augen davor verschließen sollte. Ansonsten kommt eine Katastrophe auf uns zu. Eine schmerzhafte, wahrhaftige und reale Geschichte. Ich bin sehr zufrieden, dass ich sie gesehen habe. (23.09.2023)

A thoroughbred award-winning drama, exactly in that perfect repulsive form that I absolutely hate. Monster can shake hands with Anatomy of a Fall, both are ungratifying movies for the audience that gave me nothing in life, just stole two precious hours of my time. The real monster here is the director, because making a movie where nothing interesting happens in two hours is truly an art. The film is told from three different perspectives, but when you have a story that is civil, mundane, and uninteresting, even twenty different perspectives wouldn't be enough for a good film. I read enthusiastic reviews here about an excellent screenplay, but except for a twist, you must ideally go all the way to Taiwan. There is no tension, no plot twists, no progression, no violence, no atmosphere, the visuals are cheap, the actors are unimpressive, the film has no emotions, the dialogues are nothing particularly interesting, and when the topic of education is discussed, there is not even bullying, which is already a complete miss. A screenplay treat that is tasty like 3-day-old bread. Pure Japanese shit. 2/10. (23.01.2024)

Let’s leave aside all the talk about Koreeda returning to form. The main thing is that the foundation of his new film, Monster, is a brilliant screenplay by Yuji Sakamoto, which comprises the solid backbone of this maximally impressive work. Though the narrative is built on the often used concept of various perspectives on the same events, through its precise construction it not only demonstrates the effectiveness of this narrative concept, but primarily uses it to achieve an absolutely absorbing and devastating result. It carefully builds up specific expectations and assumptions in the viewer, which it then gradually and repeatedly breaks down, thus concurrently mirroring one of its central themes. Monster deals with the monsters of everyday life, which are us. What makes us such monsters is not outright malice, but our capacity to resort to hasty conclusions that we arrogantly draw based on fragments of situations without trying to see the whole picture first. In Koreeda’s grasp, this foundation takes on a disarming form, as he avoids showiness and instead approaches the whole narrative about the fragility of pain with  subtle immediacy. ___ When seen at the Cannes Film Festival, Monster became for me the embodiment of that Holy Grail of cinematic experiences of the kind that one hopes to find at festivals, even though that rarely happens anymore. Koreeda first thoroughly disarmed me with his treatise on bullying and pain, and then absolutely crushed me in the climax, to such an extent that I had the desire to get away from the frantic bustle of the festival and just wander the streets alone in the night and let the film's emotions and ideas reverberate within me. (27.06.2023)

"Happiness is something anyone can have." Off the top of my head I can’t name any other film where the most depressing and darkest possible denouement is delivered as a beautifully lyrical wonder-not feel-good punchline. And this contrast of "uplifting chilliness" has bitten into me so much that I can't get it out of my head. Yet it's such a titanic detail, so much so that it's bullshit, you'd think. It trumps all other impressions. The positives (excellently constructed, enjoyably down-to-earth and subdued despite the gravity and magnitude of the themes, a phenomenal Sakura Ando) and negatives (especially the third part, which shuffles on its feet because you already know "where, who, why" by that point, and it's even clear what it's inevitably leading to). A traditional and yet in many ways different Kore-eda - maybe because this time he is not also the author of the script? As much as I wouldn't classify this as one of his best works, it's paradoxically the one that sticks with me the most, which I appreciate. (11.01.2024)