A (1998) [Documentary Review]

A; or, In Sonshi We Trust
     I want you to look at us closely. I want you to record us. We don't have a tradition of recording things. Even if we did, people would see it differently, because we made it. I want ordinary people, people who can understand, to see what they can see, to hear what they can hear.
I have to make it clear upfront that I have always been interested in the controversial topic of Aum Shinrikyo and the 1995 Tokyo subway attacks. However, it was not until last year when I could conduct more research on the matter after reading Haruki Murakami’s extremely gripping Underground: The Tokyo Gas Attack and the Japanese Psyche. Going down the rabbit hole of internet search, I stumbled upon a 1998 documentary made by an independent filmmaker Tatsuya Mori. The film simply titled “A” is a behind-the-scenes look into the Japanese cult on the brink of destruction.
Release Info

Directed by: Tatsuya Mori Language: Japanese

Original Title: A Runtime: 134 min

In contrast to many respected producers and television companies, Tatsuya Mori, a freelance documentarian, was luckily allowed to step into Aum Shinrikyo facilities and record the plight of the cult between 1995 and 1997. In this 134 minutes long feature, we see a shocking image of Aum followers who display unwavering belief in Shoko Asahara, while struggling to acknowledge the atrocity of the sarin incident, which was planned by their beloved master.

The central protagonist of the story is Hiroshi Araki, then deputy spokesman of Aum Shinrikyo. This young introvert in his late 20s has to deal with swarms of news reporters, police officers, civil servants, and ordinary bystanders who postulate for the banning of Aum Shinrikyo group.

At the same time, Mori records everyday activities of other members in now-bankrupt facilities of the cult spread across Japan. They continue to meditate, pray in front of an image of Asahara, and listen to the master’s audio preachings. For non-Japanese viewers, these are truly striking images to look at. The followers themselves frequently provide confessions in front of a camera, shyly trying to put into words their line of reasoning which goes more or less like this: We had no idea what Asahara and his associates were doing. It is hard for us to believe in it, but since they admit this, it probably is true. What happened in the Tokyo subway was horrible, but it does not affect the overall goals of Aum Shinrikyo related to reaching enlightenment.

As Araki travels between different facilities which are either to be demolished or liquidated, Mori records an image of a deeply troubled man who, while thinking about his family, struggles to keep the publicly-hated organisation together. The ambiguity of this documentary raises some moral concerns: Are these people truly brainwashed? Should they be allowed to pursue their concept of utopia even if their leader turned out to be a terrorist? Does the police have any right to harass them? Mori neither acknowledges nor answers these questions. He objectively points the camera at the followers of Asahara and harnesses their complex confessions.

Recommendations
Whether we like it or not, Aum Shinrikyo continues to exist in the world of today as two separate organisations: Aleph and The Circle of Light. Hiroshi Araki continues to be the spokesman of Aleph, and recently he was featured in Atsushi Sakahara’s Me and The Cult Leader (2020) documentary. In 2001, Mori released a sequel called A2, which was followed by a novel A3 If you want to learn something more about Aum Shinrikyo, then I highly recommend the original A documentary.

Overall score: 8/10

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