Work, Obedience and Corporate Absurdity: The Horrific Satire of AnyMart

After viewing a biting allegory of very real contemporary professional excesses, Aina Randrianatoandro explains why this satire from Japanese director Yusuke Iwasaki won the Critics’ Prize. Beyond its narrative efficiency, the film leaves a lasting impression, inviting viewers to examine their own relationships with work, authority, and conformity.

With his first feature film, AnyMart, selected in the Forum section of the 76th Berlinale and awarded the FIPRESCI Prize, Yusuke Iwasaki, who first built his reputation notably in advertising, delivers a satire that is both humorous and horrific, exploring the plight of Japanese youth confronted with grueling and numbing jobs. This is particularly evident in the character of Sakai, played by Shota Sometani, whose expression is as blank as that of his employer—his own father, portrayed by Masahiko Nishimura. Sakai’s almost frozen facial neutrality becomes a strong visual motif, conveying the protagonist’s inner exhaustion and silent resignation.

Despite his dual position as assistant manager and son, Sakai cannot escape the harsh rules governing the behavior of employees at the Tokyo-based AnyMart supermarket, rules which demand absolute respect toward both customers and the employer. The scene where Sakai’s father orders the staff to recite aloud the rules posted on the wall is particularly comical. The solemn nature of this collective recitation gives the scene an almost religious dimension, as if work were becoming an imposed and indisputable faith. In the film, devotion to customers is pushed to absurd extremes. For example, the employer forbids staff from confronting a customer repeatedly caught stealing merchandise on hidden camera.

Sakai’s monotonous daily life is disrupted by the arrival of Ogawa, played by Erika Karata, a young Japanese woman radiating joy and beauty who works part-time at AnyMart and dreams of opening her own hair salon. The turning point occurs during a one-on-one meeting at a restaurant, where she asks Sakai about his ambitions for the supermarket. He responds that he would like to create a vegetable garden nearby and sell the produce directly to customers. His face lights up, and Ogawa notes that it is the first time she has seen him “alive.” She tells him that having a purpose in life is what makes one truly alive. Yet, as Sakai slowly returns from a state of near-deadness, he cannot anticipate that the degrading environment of AnyMart—which brings about the symbolic and physical death of employees under the increasingly deranged employer, also subtly evoking familial toxicity—will catch up with him. 

AnyMart is a compelling horrific comedy that works on multiple levels. Scenes of levity and extreme violence, supported by effective sound and musical design, are well balanced, making the audience both laugh and shiver in horror. This mastery gives the film a rare equilibrium between social satire and horrific tension, revealing a remarkable maturity for a debut feature—a maturity that likely convinced Sometani, Nishimura, and Karata, established stars in Japan, to participate, demonstrating exceptional confidence in a novice filmmaker.

Beyond its narrative efficiency, the film leaves a lasting impression, inviting viewers to examine their own relationships with work, authority, and conformity. While rooted in the director’s personal experience, the work extends far beyond the autobiographical. If the inspiration comes from memories of a Japanese convenience store and the gradual transformation of a father absorbed by commercial logic, its themes are universal: the standardization of behavior, the erasure of individuality behind uniforms, and the obsession with customer satisfaction are not uniquely Japanese phenomena. Closing the door of AnyMart, one leaves not only a fictional supermarket but a biting allegory of very real contemporary professional excesses, whether in Western hypermarkets, global chains, or any environment where profitability takes precedence over humanity.

Aina Randrianatoandro
Recipient of international mobility grant provided by Goethe-Zentrum Antananarivo
©FIPRESCI 2026