Evil Does Not Exist

In the quiet mountain village of Mizukibi, the rhythm of life follows the slow turn of seasons, the soft murmur of a well‑watered stream, and the occasional crack of distant gunfire from deer hunts. Here, Takumi, a widowed father, and his bright‑spirited eight‑year‑old daughter Hana tend to a simple existence that supplies Tokyo with water, wood, and wasabi. Their home, perched among snow‑capped firs, feels like a sanctuary where nature’s balance is both a comfort and a quiet responsibility.

The tranquility is tested when representatives from a glamping development company arrive with glossy plans to transform part of the forest into a luxurious retreat. Takahashi and Mayuzumi present their vision to a wary community, sparking a delicate clash between the promise of modern prosperity and the villagers’ deep‑seated reverence for the land. The villagers, led by Takumi’s measured concerns, voice anxieties about the fragile water system, septic capacity, and the subtle ways an outside presence could unsettle the ecosystem that sustains them.

Against this backdrop, the film unfolds with a tone that is both contemplative and gently tense, allowing the audience to feel the weight of tradition pressing against the allure of change. Relationships begin to shift as the corporate guests glimpse the village’s enduring values, and Takumi’s quiet resolve becomes a quiet compass for those around him. The pristine winter forest, the soft glow of lanterns, and the understated humor of everyday life paint a vivid picture of a community at a crossroads, inviting viewers to wonder how the balance between progress and preservation will be negotiated without revealing the story’s deeper twists.

Last Updated: August 09, 2025 at 19:59