Satoshi Kon Covers It Himself
So Satoshi Kon came to NY for a visit a couple weeks ago. I went to the Friday showing with the on-stage interview of Paprika. I was also 45 minutes late…not that it matters considering I’ve seen Paprika on 35mm at least twice now. I did the usual recording thing and there were a lot of juicy stuff at the interview worth spinning out; it’s just the recording came out pretty badly. Because I was late I didn’t get a good spot; so yes, unlike Tokikake this showing had a good attendance.
So what do you do? You Google around to see if anyone else have done it. It’s about not reinventing the wheel.
And Satoshi Kon probably does the best job himself.
Short of copypasta, though, I’ll just list the questions that I recorded here. I apologize ahead of time for the crappy transcription.
Kon took the stage after a brief intermission at the end of Paprika. At the end of the intermission they played Kon’s Anikuri 15 clip “Good Morning.”
He then took the stage with applause with the MC and translator.
I wasn’t able to get the recording for the first bit of the interview, so from memory I recall… First he spoke about this retrospective, and mentioned something how he’s getting it in America with just 4 films. But was honored anyways and hope to have this again when he is properly old and got lots o film?
At any rate, the MC started to field questions, starting by asking Kon about the Anikuri 15 segment. I remember this well because he starts by panning NHK by saying how it is accused by the public for misappropriation of funds. In order to improve its image NHK asked the top animators to produce a short, and he was asked and he made a short.
I was able to get the recording thing going soon after that. I’ll try to paraphrase; the whole session was rather long IMO.
Why did Kon choose to be an animator? He likes it when he was little? Watching animation growing up, Kon makes a comment: the disposable nature of anime today; back in the days, there was more anticipation and fans digested each work better. (I agree; people consume anime very differently today.)
How was it being a mangaka and how does it compare? He said people always asked him about it, but he likes moving images so he likes making anime better.
How did he get to do Perfect Blue? He’s been doing a few things, and some producer approached him and they went ahead. Same with how he got to be an animator from being a mangaka. He is not ambitious and people approach him. [There was suppose to be a joke here.]
At this point we watched a clip of Perfect Blue; namely the lead up to the rape scene and the rape scene itself.
So how does he feel about it: He feels bad about putting that rape scene in for the main character now. He didn’t know very much as a newbie director. Originally they planned PB to be OAV so he/they wanted to add something that makes it stand out, so there was the rape. But it got turned into a theatrical piece half way so they kept it.
Role of pop culture in his show? [The question kind of got lost in translation]: Want to recreate the time and feel of Tokyo for BP.
Layer of viewing in PB: It reflects Kon’s own perspective. He works and draws, a part of him watches that and directs, another part of him watches the director, etc. [takes picture use audience as an example]. Just by taking a picture the audience is now being watched by Kon rather than Kon being watched. The shift in perspective is one way he communicates with his audience.
Control? Just partial. Full control is boring and no control is chaotic. 50/50, but sometimes it tilts. Perceive control versus actual control, etc.
We then moved onto a clip in Millennium Actress, around the part of the sennen tea.
Ever watch your own films? Just when it’s on TV when at home when it’s on, and he always finishes it, out of some misplaced sense of duty.
Japanese film history in your works? Didn’t start out MA with that in mind–was about dream and reality and movies, but it turned out that way. Ended up meaningful the way it evolved.
How do you categorize your film in terms of Japanese cinema? It’s kind of by itself even in terms of animation; a lost child. He would be honored that it can be considered as a part of Japanese cinema history in its small way!
How do you create a character, say, Hana? Not good at chara design. He does stories and plugs characters in. In TG, it’s characters drive the film, hmm. He doesn’t have any transsexual friends, so when he wrote Hana he did some research–dressed up like him once. (The audience lols, naturally.)
How was it writing for a TV series? Compact animation, in movies he can stuff it in; but in TV there are a lot of limits so he can only tell so much stuff at a time. The basic question for both is how to get the audience’s interest from the first scene. Solving and creating more mystery until the end.
How did you get to the end of Paranoia Agent? They want to create it piece-wise because they want to be in the audience’s shoes in not knowing how it’ll end. So they didn’t know. By episode 10 or 11 the crew realized they can’t wrap it up and the screenwriter was in a bind to try to wrap it up. At that point things feel really pressed; he needed to figure out how it end and there was a lot of stress; and it felt Shonen Bat may come. Sympathy for the characters.
The audience fields some question now.
Did Kon ever watch [Konishiba] [Can’t spell it right] (picture with rolling music)? No, not that old.
Music is uplifting and energetic but often opposite of what’s on the screen? For example, if for a sad scene, everything is sad, the feeling of sadness gets away. However if you flip the music so it’s not sad, it actually feel sadder. Juxtaposition.
Akiba knifing? Difficult situation; can’t explain. The perpetrator said that he couldn’t care who he kills, and likewise does it matter who the perpetrator is for this to happen? At first we thought about whose fault it was, but it’s still the actual person’s fault. What is striking is that the person looked like a stereotype of someone who committed a random crime and less as an individual person. It seemed it could have been anyone. No answers.
Otaku culture and his fans? Otaku has been around for 30 years; he’s a first gen otaku. It’s fine if it refers to someone who pursuit what they love very much. Kon is reputed to be critical of otaku in that it is not good to live an unbalanced life and unable to work with society at large. As long as you can function with society it’s fine.
A word for inspiring animator? Here or Japan? Japanese animators are super poor so I don’t recommend it. For someone who love to draw and animate, for CG or hand drawn stuff, as long as you love it very much pursuit it and everyday get a new feel and find a new way to look at it, you’ll be good.
Perspective, people see themselves–personal or abstractions? Becoming a public figure, there will be people who know the person of me but don’t know me, but there will people who know me better than I do. People closest to me probably have a different idea of me than myself. I have an idea of who I might be and it may be not very close; someone else may have a better idea of who I am than myself. That gap is something I want to show in my characters. Oversea or in Japan, I’ve had opportunity to meet fans. In Japan, 70% of the time his fans said he is actually scarier? It’s enjoyable to observe that gap.
[The weeaboo question which the recording didn’t get well.] Thanks for asking it in Japanese. I don’t think I purposely create anything complex; the stories are simple. The delivery is complex. [It’s in the flavor?]
That’s it!
At the end of the session most of the crowd took a stroll over next door to the theater. They have a bunch of Kon art on display, including that hawt Perfect Blue jigsaw puzzle picture. And it took the edge off my complaint how no one asked about his new work. What kind of fans are they?
Lastly, Reverse Thieves has the write-up for Kon’s Monday showing sponsored by ANA. Kon’s blog also lists more details on his trip if you dig around. If you have any question about my indecipherable transcription feel free to ask. I probably still have pieces of that stuff stuck in the back of my brain from two weeks ago.
Looking at Anime in More Ways than One
I’ve been swamped with work lately, and the Burning Crusade makes it even more difficult to put in some quality think time about this whole deal, let along writing it. I have some ideas floating around that I failed to write down, but just as well ideas that I did. Like that excuse that I just wrote down about work and gaming.
Sort of to bounce off on the Futakoi Alternative bad rap: just as we all hate to be bored while watching anime as a way to entertain ourselves, we hate it when the anime “goes out of bound”. In saying so I’m trying construct a framework to explain how I see anime–that I put on different hats watching different shows.
I’ll go through some example to explain.
Tweeny Witches. This is a curious little show that is full of visual flare and in a way it oozes a lot of “coolness.” But like Studio 4C’s shorts you have to take them straight on. In some sense you can live without the subtext and background information that the equally visceral Satoshi Kon works live within, but unlike those things Tweeny Witches is asking its viewer to be ready for it, rather than trying to ease you into it more casually. As 9-minute TV episodes, it might be kind of hard to do that.
OTOH, a thing like Paprika, because it is a feature film, means its viewers enter it with the mindset of “it’s a film.” They are not only prepared, the format itself demands a tight, timely package of the full narrative experience. You don’t need a hook as much as a serialized publication would. You’re truly looking for an experience.
It’s an entirely different thing than Zero no Tsukaima. I don’t even know if just calling both “anime” reveals all there is that the two share–the basic, medium-sensitive natures of the shows. Perhaps in a greater, “modern visual cultural” context they are together like Jessica Simpson and Colin Powell are both widely-recognized names in American culture. A rigorous dissection quickly reduces Zero as a parade of troupes hung on the skeleton of a simple yet charming juvenile high-fantasy. And because this is so, it is easy to enjoy and require little effort otherwise.
A little more can be said of something closely related, Suzumiya Haruhi no Uuutsu. What it has over Zero is rather unclear once deconstructed. Perhaps the best way to distinguish the two is in the hype and in the production quality: not only in the animation but in the direction, acting, and thoughtfulness to details. It goes farther to bring you more than just the same, tried tale using the same tried devices, even if it does that for a good bit. Perhaps the “Kyon order” of the story is its greatest blessing.
And there is more. Mushishi was a big thing for me. It’s a well-crafted show (although still using some common troupes, despite unusual for an anime) because it manages to package something very good around a form that I normally dislike in a way that I do like. The catch here is that while you can enjoy Mushishi as casual enjoyment, you have to be in the mood, so to speak. To me what makes Mushishi special, aside from the production value and submergence, is what it actually is–a consistent unfolding of themes upon human imperfection resulting from a lack of understanding, but ultimately bound by the ties that makes men and women who they are. Still, what is troublesome is the unwrapping–for the longest time I cannot just sit down and watch this show, even amply prepared.
I wondered why. I think aside from my own personal nitpickery and strangeness, I felt I just had to be in a certain state of mind, with a certain amount of empathy mixed with apathy. A show like Black Lagoon did well for me because it works both when I am emo-blue as well as when I’m cackling with glee. The show itself is a mix of many different things, and while the inconsistency can be a bit off-putting for someone looking for just one thing, it manages to deliver plenty of, well, a lot.
On the flip side is Futakoi Alternative. To make no mistake, it has great production values. However it’s also a little dry, it suffers from having too little spanned across too much time. The direction is also more fitting of a film format even if it took advantage of the serialized, TV format in some of the episodes, to deliver that slice-of-life feel. A lot of the show worked, but a lot of it didn’t either. It gave us a variety of things, but I don’t know if those things worked well together.
Just like some shows are seasonal, some are equally best-tasted when you’re in the right state of mind. For some, it may means until they’re old and tired; some when fresh and not jaded. Others still just needs to have a fresh day to look forward to, or with the right company.
Megumi Hayashibara Is Paprika
So thanks to friends, news services, and the New York Film Festival, I got to see Paprika. Needless to say, this Satoshi Kon fan is pretty happy, being able to watch the film before it actually comes out. Plus it’s something interesting to blog and it doesn’t involve Kanon…
Paprika is a spice, as you know. A spicy name for a woman, perhaps. If you can imagine that Megumi Hayashibara was only so spicy to be paprika and not, say, jalapeño, then you’ve got the right image for Paprika, the character concept in the film. It’s not to say Hayashibara can’t crank it up, but that’s not her role in the film–a woman of every man’s dream. The woman of many faces is a underlying drive behind Satoshi Kon’s Millennium Actress, and Hayashibara does a wonderful job with it.
In fact, you can see the underlying drive of all Satoshi Kon’s previous works in Paprika. The one that’s utmost obvious is Paranoia Agent. It’s a bit of a spoiler, so you can skip this paragraph if you’d like, but the underlying story of Paprika is fully explained (or unexplained) in the same fashion that Paranoia Agent is explained (or unexplained). The framework is really the same, although Paprika does offer us a lot more. I think if you can grasp what happened in Paranoia Agent then you’ve at least got the mental wherewithal to grasp the story in Paprika.
But even if you were spoiled, no word is enough to treat you to what Madhouse has lined up for your eyes and ears. To get it out of the way, despite that he’s perpetually stuck in the 80s, Suzumu Hirasawa’s soundtrack in Paprika is by far the least grating and least obnoxious. It’s not overly powerful compared to some of his earlier works in Kon’s shows, and I also think it’s just better arranged here. I rather like it.
The visuals, well, is what you’d expect of a movie featuring psychedelic dream sequences merging with reality and a feature film budget. It’s weird at times, it’s scary at times, it’s awe-inspiring at times, and at times it makes you wonder why Paprika is naked and huge.
Then you remember, hey, Megumi Hayashibara, yo!
(Is she playing a tsundere? Satoshi Kon has the otaku by his balls! Watch out!)
As with all of Kon’s works, they are visually imaginative. And as with the typical tools and conventions of anime storytelling, clever exaggeration works wonder to bring laughter. I should say Paprika is not exactly a LOL film, but it’s got some comedic highlights. Kon’s gotta work in some of that linear-branched narrative best seen in Tokyo Godfathers, after all.
Perhaps the most charming aspect of the film itself is the homages. From Roman Holiday (Aka is a Paprika knockoff?) to Kon’s own films, Paprika is a dialogue between Satoshi Kon and his viewers. Since Paprika is a novel adaptation, I’m not sure how much of that voice carries across from him and how much of it carries across from the original author, Yasutaka Tsutsui. But either way the film is passionate about film-making itself.
That said, even for me not all things about Paprika is glowing. I think if you’re unfamiliar with Kon’s works, you’ll likely to be pretty lost upon first impression. I think if you don’t have a keen grasp of the otaku underpinning, you are not going to get all the jokes. Heck, if you’re not a minor film buff (or someone who’s been watching movie and of a certain age), you’ll not get all the references. In as much as the barrier, I think, is high, Paprika is not too hard to understand substantively. It just won’t make it so surreally pleasing as it can for the hardcore Kon fans.
One other bone I can pick with Paprika is its pacing. Admittedly most of Satoshi Kon’s devices are tense. If you’re a follower of progressive, postmodern rock, or an anthem electronica fan (and others), you might be familiar with the whole buildup-release pattern. Paprika has some of that, but it doesn’t really break so cleanly. Part of it has to do with the jokes, but part of it has to do with the audience being unable to catch up to the film. As an result, while its 90-minute was well-used, I think it did not have the right timing in some of the key scenes.
If I had to use one meaningless cliché movie reviewers use to describe Paprika then I’ll call Paprika a “tour de LOL.” This is a must watch for Satoshi Kon fans and admirers of his work. Sadly, I cannot guarantee your safety if that’s not the case–watch at your own peril. If you live near the Windy City you can catch it next week at the Chicago International Film Festival (Who also is hosting Tomino right as I enter these texts). Other than that, it’s due an early 2007 release in Japan and over in the US.
For my solace, at least Paprika is the kind of film that leaves a longing aftertaste upon a powerful first impression. Like a spicy dish. Or a bad pun.
The Theme of Memories is the Theme of Me
I’m not sure how many people out there recall the first few fansub renditions of episode 18 of Nadesico, but I thought that was always a touching way to translate something to get across the spirit of the language behind the title.
I’m not sure how many people out there enjoyed Kanon, either through the game, the fan stuff (radio shows and what not), or the Toei anime. I thought the new Kanon TV show is a self-fulfilling experience to re-experience your first time through Kanon, if you’re one of those people.
I’m not sure how many people out there even watched Simoun. I thought that was the saddest part about the whole thing. Who is going to stand vigil and remember the Chor Tempest?
The theme of memory is one that has real value the older you get. It doesn’t have to be mixed with regret, but it can. It certainly can be filled with “what ifs” and “now I get why.” Kanon is the story about a boy who grew up and couldn’t remember. It’s not a tropical, swashbuckling Peter Pan, but a downtempo, warm embrace. Because of that, re-watching Kanon is an enthralling experience. It’s not quite just going through the motions, but also going through your emotions when you remember your first trip with Yuuichi. It encourages you to remember. Could I remember Nayuki’s name if she asked?
What’s even more beautiful about this upcoming circumstance is that no longer we find our dusty, old remembrances dated with age. With even a critical eye we can re-examine Kanon through its new body. Thanks Kyoani! It’s really having the best of both worlds.
Memory is a favorite theme for many great pieces of anime. Hopefully I’ll be able to tell you just how that plays with Paprika tomorrow. I suppose that’s why I’m somewhat soft versus Charlie Kaufman’s films? Not to mention Satoshi Kon, but even Mamoru Oshii’s rendition in Jin-Roh and the two Ghost in the Shell films touch on this.
