I immensely respect the amount of craft and effort director Sam Hargrave and company put into the extended one-take action sequences of both Extraction movies. However, to be perfectly blunt, I think both sequences are a perfect distillation of "style over substance". That phrase has often become cursed in modern cinematic discourse since it's typically reserved for only features that "dare" to suggest motion pictures should be motivated by visuals or emotions rather than standard narratives. In the case of those Extraction set pieces, though, such a descriptor feels apt. Lots of time and sweat got poured into making very important fight sequences involving protagonist Tyler Rake (Chris Hemsworth) look like they were happening in real-time. But they're just not involving or exciting as they unfold.
Filtering things through a one-take doesn't open up new possibilities for fight choreography. The drab color palette of those movies becomes relentlessly grating as these extended shots drag on and on. One also becomes extremely conscious of how little they care about any of the people on-screen as Extraction keeps the camera unblinking. Evoking the visual language of that iconic Goodfellas sequence and utilizing the dedication of so many stunt performers can't mask how hollow these Extraction one-take scenes are. Sometimes, all the confetti in the world isn't enough to disguise how tedious a party is.
I'm probably the only person in history to invoke Extraction when talking about a Ryusuke Hamaguchi movie, but I think it's important to understand just how extraordinary one of the most striking shots of the director's 2024 movie Evil Does Not Exist is. Said shot concerns two representatives of a glamorous camping (or "glamping") company approaching protagonist Takumi (Hitoshi Omika) to help them out on their project, which will intrude on the local land Takumi and others call home. In this shot, Takumi's young daughter Hana (Ryo Nishikawa) is in the distance just behind the two "glamping" advocates. To the right of Takumi is his neighbor, who has been deeply untrustworthy of these two outsiders hoping to bring staples of city life to this rural community.
If you showed this image to somebody devoid of any context, they could still tell you the individual personalities of these characters and their interpersonal dynamics. That's a testament to how striking the blocking of these characters is. Hana is physically removed from everyone, pushed to the back, to signify how she's not necessarily involved in these proceedings. Takumi is quietly placed in the center of the frame to suggest how all eyes are now upon him. His neighbor is shifted to the far side of the scene. This placement suggests his animosity towards the newcomers approaching Takumi. The quietly detailed physicality of the actors in this shot also reinforces the interior worlds of these critical figures in Evil Does Not Exist.
Yes, the big action one-takes in the Extraction movies and this marvelous image from Evil Does Not Exist are setting out to accomplish drastically different tasks. However, I think it's worth pointing out the wildly disparate end results of these visuals. Extraction throws so much razzle-dazzle at the screen only to create murky imagery that neither thrills nor makes one further invested in Tyler Rake. Meanwhile, Hamaguchi and cinematographer Yoshio Kitagawa just focus on six people standing around in a parking lot for a shot that lasts little more than 90 seconds and it packs an emotional wallop. There's so much to unpack in just this single image. That's the power of Hamaguchi cinema right there.
The director of the 2021 masterpiece Drive My Car is back with this visually rich exercise, which concerns the inhabitants of a village called Mizubiki. Like several other 2024 cinema protaganists (see also: Problemista and Do Not Expect Too Much From the End of the World), Takumi and other Mizubiki denizens are grappling with the encroaching specter of capitalism creeping into their lives. A proposed "glamping" site would adversely affect the environment and there doesn't appear to be much these individuals can do to stop these devastating plans. Evil Does Not Exist uses this conflict to explore the interior lives of characters like company representatives Takahashi (Ryuji Kosak) and Mayuzumi (Ayaka Shibutani).
The former character gets one of the most fascinatingly vulnerable moments in Hamaguchi's script in a car ride over to Takumi's home. Here, Takahashi bemoans where his life has gone, the people he deals with every day, the terrible bosses he serves. "How the heck did I end up like this?" he ends up yelling in the car, much to the shock of Mayuzumi (who is in the passenger seat). That outburst is one of the few loud moments in Evil Does Not Exist, which finds power in quiet depictions of simmering anguish. Practically everyone in this movie is caught inside a larger system they cannot escape. We are all at the mercy of something bigger. It's a theme not only reflected in the quiet conversations these people. share. It also manifests in Hamaguchi giving foliage in Misubiki's forest so much emphasis in Evil Does Not Exist's visual scheme. From an opening extended shot looking upwards at looming trees onward, this entire movie is conscious of the wider wilderness that humanity is only a guest in.
Nuance isn't just afforded to the characters of Evil Does Not Exist. Eiko Ishibashi's score is as complicated and intricate as any human being on-screen. Initially, her compositions relying on wind chimes and noises resembling the "drip-drip-drip" sound of water droplets falling simultaneously evoke an atonal yet soothing quality. Later, her creations segue into a more classical aura that captures the grand emotions within Takumi and his companions as both potential connectivity and tragedy befall these souls. Ishibashi's score truly offers everything, but Hamaguchi wisely lets certain key scenes play out without those compositions. Sometimes, just a shot of a lake or branches trapped in the snowy ground is enough to capture our eye, we don't need an accompanying music cue. Extraction movies, take note. Evil Does Not Exist is a masterclass in wringing extraordinary imagery out of ordinary locales.
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