Japanese Reviews Reviews

Documentary review: AUM: The Cult at the End of the World (2023) by Ben Braun and Chiaki Yanagimoto

Reads as a glorified Wikipedia article

There are few things more disappointing than a juicy subject with a dry documentary – like and 's “.” (By the same token, there are few lines more disheartening to begin a review with than with one like this!) If one was to be generous, this could potentially be due to the duo's relative prior inexperience. Despite Braun and Yanagimoto's longstanding involvement in the film industry, “Aum” marks their first foray into the director's chair. On one hand then, one could say that it is a laudable achievement that the documentary should be considered for Sundance's prestigious US Documentary Competition. On the other, one could argue that it is all the more disheartening that their fresh eyes stick to the classic documentary script — which, for such a suggestive title, is a downright shame. 

 AUM: The Cult at the End of the World screened at

“AUM: The Cult at the End of the World” tries to answer why and how Aum Shinrikyo, a cult responsible for the infamous 1995 Tokyo sarin subway attack that left 14 dead and an estimated 6,000 injured, had grown so much in power. Notably, Braun and Yanagimoto treat the subject with total seriousness. The duo conduct their research on camera by interrogating both Japanese and English-speaking journalists; they converse with past members of the cult; they even sift through an immense amount of newspaper clippings, photographs, animated televisual content, and other forms of archival material. At the end, the documentary inconclusively frames the founder Shoko Asahara as an ultimate opportunist. Similar to many cult leaders, Braun and Yanagimoto conclude that Asahara is a charismatic figure who knew how to be at the right place at the right time. 

The documentarians do not resist showcasing the sheer absurdity of Asahara's influence. Like entering a cult, they appropriately crank up the stakes over time. Asahara – at first a lonely near-blind boy who innocuously starts a yoga school – develops into a character with increasingly outlandish influence. Over the course of two hours, Asahara develops into a formidable nonpolitical power, directly dealing with Russian armaments, a local sarin factory, and a staunch international following. In a word, “AUM” underscores how this man, who was first known for his levitational prowess, simply surpasses all the thresholds of social respectability. 

The cult's extraordinary circumstances do not tempt Braun and Yanagimoto into buying into Asahara's mythmaking, however. In fact, the filmmaker duo's distance from the subject is notable. They shy away from dramatic musical flourishes, mostly settling for the occasional instrumental tinkle. They also do not proffer their own opinion aside from the way they cut the events, most of which seem to be chronologically ordered. They also, notably, absolutely condemn AUM in the whole process of filmmaking. Very few contemporary opinions included in the film are sympathetic to the cult. It almost seems that, instead of treating AUM as an esoteric society, the two seek to do exactly the opposite and dispel the mystique. 

As a result, “AUM” reads as a glorified Wikipedia article. It is as informative as it is uninspiring; it displays little empathy for those who were involved in the cult. Instead, it decidedly sides with the media – a perspective we as a civilian public are always more privy to – and outcasts past members not so much with with pity or disgust, but worse: indifference.

About the author

Grace Han

In a wave of movie-like serendipity revolving around movies, I transitioned from studying early Italian Renaissance frescoes to contemporary cinema. I prefer to cover animated film, Korean film, and first features (especially women directors). Hit me up with your best movie recs on Twitter @gracehahahan !

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