Spoilers ahead!Dennis Martin6 said:That greenhouse scene? It’s basically the movie's whole MO—that kid John just watching his dad burn his mom's stuff after she bailed, which is exactly what he was venting about to Ben earlier. But get this: the director shows us a burning greenhouse instead of actual clothes. It's like Ben's story about those greenhouses leaked into John's head—real memory gets totally warped by John's neurotic headspace in the present.
The greenhouse scene and that moment with Amy—those are basically the only two non-linear, dreamlike bits in the whole movie. That’s my main gripe—they aren't the "modus operandi," they're just exceptions that probably got hacked down to nothing in the edit.
I figured the kid was John—but I don't think we're looking at some "distorted memory" about him burning his mom's stuff. It feels more like this whole phantasmagoria thing tied to his father. In the original book, specifically with Faulkner, the dad gets accused of...
Barn burning—classic Faulkner. Just gritty, raw stuff.So, at Boeing, it turns out the dad got convicted for attacking an officer. Honestly, it feels like this whole "burning plastic" thing is just a toxic mix of his mom's baggage and his dad's criminal record—talk about a bad combo. Didn't Ben claim that plastic burns so easily because the cops just don't do anything about it? And man, John almost burned one down himself.
That’s exactly the director's play here—he spends the whole movie gaslighting the audience into thinking Ben is some total psychopath. It's all based on this unproven theory that he killed Amy and dumped her body in the lake, but honestly? There isn't a single shred of actual evidence on screen to back that up. At the end of the day, the only guy we can be 100% sure is a killer is John.
Fair enough interpretation—
one Since we’re seeing everything through the eyes of a manic John—who is, let's face it, a total unreliable narrator—everything is filtered through his warped perspective. But Amy really did vanish without a trace; even the other characters back it up. We might be lacking hard evidence, but the circumstantial clues are strong enough that you can't just toss John-suov's theory aside. And yeah, Ben's guilt? Still totally up in the air.
Beyond a reasonable doubt—period.To quote the fund— 😉 I honestly think that ending hits way too hard—like, it's a total overkill. Having a lethargic guy like John, who’s been nothing but a passive observer this whole time, just commit a brutal murder in the final scene? Especially when he hasn't even found any real smoking gun—because let's be real, the cat and the watch aren't exactly "case closed" level proof.
The movie isn't even about the rich vs. the poor—honestly, thinking it is just some populist way of reading it. It all happens in that gap between what the director intends and how we actually see it. Ben is basically Gatsby from that classic Fitzgerald novel—our only real link to this whole Van Dyck-style world. And Amy? She’s like that girl who gets so much plastic surgery she becomes unrecognizable, using nothing but mime to try and simulate a whole new reality (not that it has anything to do with the "soul"). John is the writer behind this whole thing—he's basically crafting the story about these characters we're watching. The way these three interact—it’s all happening inside this bubble of non-stop propaganda blaring from the loudspeakers... it’s just a sign of how artificial the protagonist's whole reality and life actually is.
I can't get behind the underlined part—there's zero class struggle vibes in Murakami's stuff. It’s more like Faulkner, where that theme is everywhere, and the director/writer is clearly leaning on
that text to flesh out the characters. You've got massive youth unemployment on one hand, then you have John and Amy's pathetic little jobs, the dad's run-down farm... and then there's Ben and his crew, the mom, all that. John starts off feeling this class resentment toward Ben, and then everything else just follows...
John acting as the narrator of the story? In a metaphorical sense, sure, since he's our focal point. Or are we talking literally? He doesn't even start writing until she disappears—or maybe later, I can't quite recall. His "story" might just be the movie's resolution, not the whole dramatic arc. If we follow your logic, you could argue that Ben's murder at the end is actually a crime committed within a novel by John's literary alter ego—just some cold revenge served up in the realm of the author's imagination.
Anyway, thanks for clearing some things up. It's a super interesting take, even if it feels a bit forced to me. 👍