Japanese filmmaker Hirokazu Kore-eda (“The Truth,” 2020) directs and edits “Kaibutsu” (Eng. Title: “Monster,” 2023)—his first Japanese film in five years since “Manbiki Kazoku” (Eng. Title: “Shoplifters,” 2018), and the first in 29 years that he did not write himself. The mystery drama stars Sakura Andō (“Aru otoko;” Eng. Title: “A Man,” 2022) as Saori Mugino, the single mother of Minato (Sōya Kurokawa in his feature film debut), who accuses his homeroom teacher Michitoshi Hori (Eita Nagayama; “64,” 2016) of physically assaulting her son.

The narrative timeline of “Monster” begins with a fire and ends with a rainstorm. Initially played out as a drama critiquing the education system’s relationship with its students, viewers feel like they’re strapped in for a mother’s fight against an entire school in its baffling attempts to protect a teacher, who is—from Saori’s perspective, and ours by proxy—clearly abusive, and a potential danger to the children around him. Minato’s repeated dissociation and attempts at self-harm feel like reasons clear enough to make a mother go to war.

The film itself, however, doesn’t end with the rainstorm—we’re taken back to the fire; a building burns as firefighters try to put out the fire, except instead of Saori and Minato cheering at them, we see the incident from the perspective of Hori, who’s just out and about with his lover. The narrative retraces the steps from the teacher’s point of view, wherein more frayed edges are visible, and you’re made to question if Minato is harmless or an actual monster. This is not where the movie ends, though; just as his story crescendoes to a possible resolution, viewers are pulled from the downpour back to the burning building that started it all.

Because “Monster” isn’t about the single mother or the teacher; its intent is to look for the real monster of the plot. In so doing, viewers are forced to confront their lack of empathy. “Who’s the monster?,” Minato and his friend Yori Hoshikawa (Hinata Hiragi) scream at each other—an inside joke, a game of sorts. It’s a recurring question, but it’s not until the final perspective that it really hits us how little we’re able to consider the feelings of others. It’s a devastating movie aiming to break you using the gentlest touch.

The film’s gut-wrenching impact wouldn’t have been possible without the stellar performances of Ando, Kurokawa, Nagayama, and Hiragi—the four primary characters in this film—who deliver knockout performances through its 125-minute runtime. The biggest surprises of the movie, however, are Nakamura Shidō II (“Korō no Chi Level 2;” Eng. Title: “Last of the Wolves,” 2021) as Yori’s bitter parent and Yūko Tanaka (“Tomogui;” Eng. Title: “The Backwater,” 2013) as the mysterious, grieving school principal, both of whom are incredible. While the former makes you despise his onscreen persona in a second of his appearance, the latter’s understated turn will leave you guessing whether or not to root for her throughout.

Each character is written with nuance, allowing them to feel appropriately multidimensional. Screenwriter-playwright Yuji Sakamoto makes an excellent case for each character, blurring the lines between good and evil on the way. Nobody in “Monster” is a hero or a villain. With the help of Kore-eda’s measured direction and editing, we see them as flawed humans dealing with their own issues. Hori is lonely, Minato and Saori are coping with the absence of a father and husband, Yori’s life is at the hands of an emotionally abusive wreck, and the principal’s grief is written all over her face and diminishing voice.

Kore-eda’s newest film turns its soundtrack into arguably another essential character. Using broad strokes of the grand piano, strings, and ambient underscores, the stirring compositions of the late Ryuichi Sakamoto (“After Yang,” 2022) add to the gut-wrenching emotional impact of “Monster.” Sakamoto’s music breathes a different life into the film’s three points of view by bringing you back to specific plot points via recurring motifs with slightly differently styled flourishes.

Gorgeously shot, brilliantly acted, and gut-wrenchingly told, “Monster” uses its “Rashomon”-esque narrative style not as a party trick or gimmick but as a social exercise that pushes its viewers to examine the boundaries of their own empathy with every consequent perspective of the recurring timeline of events. Kore-eda and writer Yuji Sakamoto have made an immersive drama that uses its director’s trademarks of stasis and silence to hit you like a ton of bricks despite its relatively gentle storytelling. Masterful, imperative viewing; highly recommended.