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The Third Murder
****
Dir: Hirokazu Kore-eda
Starring: Masaharu Fukuyama, Koji Yakusho
(Japan, 15, 2hrs 5mins)
Amongst film critics of a lazier background, Hirokazu Kore-eda has often been hailed as the “new” Yasujiro Ozu. There have long been similarities of course, not least the fact that both directors share a fixation with the mundane day-to-day realities of life and the complexities of family relationships, as well as a certain productiveness (both averaging about a film a year), leading some critics to accuse both of making the same film over and over again. Yet, the similarities have stuck for a reason, though they often ignore a longer tradition of realism in Japanese cinema that also includes Mikio Naruse and Kenji Mizoguchi.
With that said, for those expecting another Kore-eda film with the same basic pieces – familial disputes, placid languid pacing, and relatively unfussy filmmaking – will be highly surprised by The Third Murder, whereas those just coming to his work might be wrongfooted by the rest of his catalogue. As suggested by the title, this is more of a crime drama rather than a family one, with the plot centring around the murder of a factory boss by a middle-aged worker of his. The protagonist lawyer Shigemori (Masaharu Fukuyama) is tasked with defending him, an already difficult task as the man has confessed, made all the more difficult by the fact that the defendant changes his story with every meeting.
This being a film more rooted in elements of genre, there’s more of a natural pace to The Third Murder than previous films of Kore-eda’s, which can be placid to the point of drowsiness. But then again, this is still a director willing to let long stretches of dialogue develop onscreen without worry. As Shigemori keeps revisiting his defendant and trying to sort through the evidence, the shifting sands of testimony and culpability contrive to make him unsure of what to believe. As a lawyer, it’s his job to devise the story best suited to defending his client – but the story he wants to believe most is also the most ludicrous and likely to backfire. What initially appears to be a legal procedural turns into a brilliantly philosophical film about what exactly the truth means, and how the truths that we pick define our actions.
That central idea is tackled so subtly and quietly, it might be easy to miss. Kore-eda has never been a director to draw attention to himself, but with strong sense of realism and complexity in his writing allied to his skill with actors, one often barely realises what a powerful director until long after. The final scene here is a brilliant summation of the entire film, tying together all the themes that Kore-eda has been quietly probing for the previous two hours in one devastating sleight of hand. I won’t reveal what it is, but I will just point out that this is comfortably one of the quietest masterpieces you’ll see this year.
words FEDOR TOT