The streaming landscape is currently saturated with crime thrillers and murder mysteries. However, this isn't a new phenomenon on the small screen. Even before the advent of OTT platforms, some of the most popular television series belonged to these subgenres. But I suppose budget limitations and the freedom to follow a set of characters and explore a world over several seasons gave these productions a sense of simplicity and intimacy.
Nowadays, with the threat of projects being canceled if they don't reach a certain number of views within 24 hours, creators are forced to cram too much into their shows in an attempt to impress everyone, from viewers to producers. Therefore, most of these narratives are filled with unexpected twists, elaborate commentary on social issues, and much more.
Stars: Hidetoshi Nishijima, Somegorô Ichikawa, Rie Miyazawa
However, in this endeavor, they forget to focus on the one thing that will make a series truly memorable: the characters. Yes, it's character development that sets series like True Detective (Season 1), Mindhunter, and Dahaad apart from others like The Gardener, Untamed, and practically anything Ryan Murphy or Harlan Coben have been involved in.
Ryuichi Hiroki's Human Specimens, adapted from the novel of the same name by Kanae Minato, follows Professor Shiro as he turns himself in to the police for murdering six children, including his own son, Itaru, and turning them into macabre, butterfly-themed art installations in the middle of the forest. As Shiro is interrogated, he flashes back to his childhood to discuss his father's obsession with using "human specimens" for his artwork, and the origin of his own personal quest to see the world through the eyes of butterflies.
The first image he created, which depicted the vibrant perspective of these insects and butterfly taxidermy, was highly praised by his parents and by Rumi, the daughter of one of Shiro's father's clients. So, before their lives took different paths, Shiro gifted this artwork to Rumi, and she gratefully accepted it. In the following years, Rumi became a unique artist thanks to her tetrachromatic vision, and Shiro became a lepidopterist. Rumi and Shiro married their respective partners. Rumi gave birth to Anna, and Shiro had Itaru.
While Rumi taught Anna to paint, Shiro took Itaru on his butterfly expeditions, allowing him to find his own voice in the world of photography. Rumi and Shiro's spouses passed away, and they stayed in touch through emails, text messages, and phone calls. One day, Rumi invited Shiro and Itaru to Shiro's ancestral home, which she had bought and renovated, for an artistic retreat. After this reunion, things went wrong and led to the deaths of six boys. The search for the truth behind the murders forms the central focus of the narrative.
Human Specimens, the series or miniseries, harms itself by trying to cram an entire novel into five episodes. It's impossible to do so without ruining everything. I haven't read the novel, but from what I've seen in the series, there's a lot to cover. The list of themes, at least as far as I can tell, includes generational trauma, filicide, ambition, obsession, understanding the true meaning of art, tetrachromatic vision, misunderstanding the true meaning of art, color blindness, deconstruction of various types of art, redefining beauty, emotional manipulation, arrogance, complex family dynamics, betrayal, forgiveness, jealousy, and much more.
As if that weren't enough, it adopts a Rashomon-like approach to unraveling all of this, analyzing each situation from different perspectives and adding context to each interaction. And in this process, the character development becomes quite confusing. I think it's fine to give characters many layers, but there should be something at their core that resonates with the viewer in some way. Even if a character's true nature or motivation is ambiguous, I think the process of peeling back those layers should be interesting. If none of this happens, it seems that the screenwriter is subjecting us to a meaningless experience that only has the illusion of depth.
To be fair, Hiroki gets some things right by making Human Specimens as strange and macabre as possible. No, he and his team don't overdo anything. Surprisingly, their approach to Minato's almost unmanageable text is quite restrained. There's an undercurrent of sickness throughout the series, one that sticks to your skin and doesn't easily wash off. And in the time it takes to process the experience of watching this understandably peculiar series, you feel compelled to reflect on it; even to recommend it to someone just so you can talk about it and process your feelings. If that's not a success for such a perplexing series, I don't know what is.
I mean, the way those five boys are introduced, the visual framing of all the character interactions, the production design, the visual effects, and the pacing—it's all so surreal and unsettling. I can't help but commend it for at least not falling into the same traps as every other series in the drama, mystery, and thriller subgenre. The decision to keep everything sunny and bright, which underscores the horror of the characters' actions and makes the whole thing sharply contrast with all the desaturated material being produced, is a very bold choice. Perhaps the bar is set very low, but I appreciate Hiroki and his team for not making me check if my laptop's brightness was working correctly or not.
I would have rated Human Specimens higher if the acting department hadn't focused exclusively on Hidetoshi Nishijima. I completely understand the need to put Nishijima in the spotlight for much of the series. If I had Nishijima in my series, I probably would have done the same. But the problem is that the narrative isn't just a deconstruction of Nishijima's character; it's also about the characters played by Somegoro Ichikawa, Rie Miyazawa, Aoi Ito, and the rest of the supporting cast. Since no one but Nishijima gets a substantial amount of screen time, their work doesn't come across as interesting. That's why, whenever Nishijima isn't on screen, the series becomes tedious.
So, yes, if you're only here for Nishijima, you'll be satisfied. However, if you expect everyone, including Nishijima, to deliver memorable performances, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. Therefore, to answer the question I posed in the first paragraph: Human Specimens falls somewhere between brilliance and mediocrity within the genre. There are many themes and messages, specifically about art and beauty, condensed into those five episodes, which the series addresses in a rushed manner. If you have the time and patience to analyze them, I think you'll enjoy the viewing experience. If you don't have that time, at best, you'll find it strange; at worst, you'll forget it entirely.
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