Ani-Me #9: High-Diving Into the Dreams Of PAPRIKA (Patreon)

Welcome to Ani-Me! The Series Where You Make Me Watch Anime! To be clear, you aren’t making me do anything because I have enjoyed every bit of this so far. And this week we’re returning to the oeuvre of Satoshi Kon and finally tackling a movie I’ve been hearing about for nearly 15 years now. That’s right…

Today’s Entry: PAPRIKA (2006)

“Paprika will ruin Inception for you.”

This quote is not a singular one. For this sentiment is something I have heard many, many, many times. And on one level, yes, I understand that this movie came four years prior to that one and shares a broad central conceit of “there is a machine that allows you to invade people’s dreams.” But to everyone making the abject comparison, I have to warn you that this is taps into something I have an ongoing issue with when it comes to the general public’s conversation about movies. Not just the way that films have similar superficial details tend to get lumped together as if needing some direct comparison. But more the assumption that Nolan just ripped off Paprika along with people who even make casual-yet-outright accusations of plagiarism. Because now having seen the film? It honestly sort of boggles my mind because these two movies could not be more different, especially when it comes to the start to finish construction. And even in terms of conceit, the idea of “incepting” dreams in some form goes all the way back to The Iliad and through Phillip K. Dick. Heck, given the chatter I honestly thought there would be at least more directly comparative details. But instead I could sit here and explain why Paprika has so much more in common with films like 8 1/2 or Spellbound than it does the film supposedly stole from it… But the truth is I’m not really interested in fishing for similarities.

I’m more worried about how this false comparison happens all the time.

But it honestly has to do with this broader misconception of what “an idea” is than anything else. Because there are so many people who think that a rough conceit is all that really goes into “coming up with a movie” and the rest of it is basic execution of that one great idea. It’s like all those people claiming they “had the idea of The Matrix,” when really they just had similar broad conceits. I am telling you, these supposedly ingenious broad conceits are a dime a dozen. Right now there are several of every single exact type of project going through the pipeline. So what is THE WORK of being a good writer really about? It’s the constant ideation across time. It’s coming up with every little detail and moment to bring those broad conceits to life to tell a great, complete story. It is a long, long process that becomes your entire job. Which is why “the idea” of The Matrix is really every single little amazing idea the Wachowski’s had that brought that film to life.

It’s the kind of thing that I think people can grok when I say it here, but I honestly feel like they miss the true blue depth behind it. Because really, there’s an entire ocean of influence. It’s the same reason you talk to someone for five minutes about a scene and they think they deserve story credit because they helped you “write the story.” Yes, this happens. And I cannot explain the level of insulting it is when people do that. Even when you’re brought into an ideation session or story retreat, people working in the industry understand the difference. Because that’s not the same thing as working on a project day in and day out with your entire life. To wit, I’ve been on a project that’s taken nearly five years of my life now, one that’s required constant ideation, story evolutions, and draft revisions. And all the while? There has been endless influence upon it. Every single conversation or movie I’ve seen has been part of that influence… and yet none of them is part of it.

But this is the process. And I’m going at such lengths to describe it because I’m really trying to hammer home how much these broad comparisons misunderstand these crucial aspects of creation and ideation, especially for filmmakers as singular as Kon or Nolan. Besides, genuine rip offs actually do exist and they are broad, cynical, lazy efforts whose most masterful skill is knowing what they can’t get sued over. I don’t say any of this to make anyone feel bad for doing this in the past. Hell, I used to do it. The point is just warmly encouraging everyone to broaden their acceptance in this regard and understand that the devil of what makes a film a film is always in the differing details, not the similar ones.

Speaking only for a brief moment about Inception, it’s a film I genuinely love and it’s also exemplary of all the reasons I enjoy poking fun at Nolan. What’s the old adage about hitting someone with a pie in the face? That the person being hit has to be uptight enough for the gag to work? Well, Nolan’s the ultimate straight laced filmmaker. A cool as ice, seemingly sexless, hyper-logician with a fetish for sharp suits and a penchant for fridge stuffing his movies with dead wives. He’s also seemingly obsessed with clean lines. Upon seeing Interstellar, one friend remarked that he was tasked with imagining the awe-inducing grandeur of the fifth dimension and yet could only see it as “as a series of brown hallways.” But all this poking fun comes with the acknowledgement that he is also darn good at making a certain kind of movie (and a half of them are genuinely great). That’s because Nolan understands the basic principles of drama. He calls out objectives and obstacles and leans into tension and anticipation. For all the cerebral, puzzle box instincts, he actually plays fair with all of his set-ups and payoffs. He knows how to build percussive energy and has a genuine knack for imbuing heist / thrillers / genre fare with genuine metaphors, which can be nailed fascinating with aplomb (I particularly noted his fascination with the cruelty of the time) And, yes sometimes he’s a little too slick and hollow for it’s own good (cue Tenet discussion), but I will go to the mattresses for films like The Prestige, Dunkirk, The Dark Knight, and Inception any day of the week. Particularly that last one as being the most psychologically-nuanced and character driven of his entire career, all beautifully ingrained into the film’s thrilling final hour.

It also sets a remarkable counterpoint to Paprika.

Where Nolan plays the conceit as straight as possible with constantly established rules (I mean he LITERALLY railroads the narrative into those tense directions), Kon’s feature is a wild, unencumbered movie that upends the viewer constantly. Where Nolan can only imagine a dreamworld where city blocks fold in on each other (as if suffocating), Kon takes the notion of dreamscapes and erupts outward with them. It gives way to a fit of poetic imagery, at once gorgeous and disturbing, making so much of its circus-like tropes into something dead-set on transcendence. Heck, the entire notion of “dream invasion” almost feels like an excuse to run wild. Where Inception runs headlong into the singular feelings of guilt and loss, Paprika overflows with inclinations for lost friendship, differing forms of sexuality / allure, and the breaking through the limits of imagination itself. In short, these films are wildly different explorations with wildly different aims. And I don’t think one path is any more or less correct that the other, especially given that both have obvious reasons to adore them.

Because, yes, there is so much to adore about Paprika. It seems like every fifteen seconds or so I was hit with an image that set my mind on fire. There’s the literal technology parade. The two characters wrestling inside the same body, one literally rooting into the other. The shot of business men diving off a skyscraper to their deaths as if in a Busby Berkeley movie. There’s just so many little details like this that standout (I mean, this movie even sits down and explains the rule of 180???). It’s the kind of movie where anything seems possible to occur. Which is perhaps why the running motif of characters always leaping off of balconies or over barriers really seems to fit, no? The truth is I could sit here and talk about the brazen attitude of the film until the cows come home… But when it comes to the overall cohesive thrust of those brazen images?

Well, I continue to find myself in a weird place with Paprika and Kon’s work at large.

The first disconnect comes on a level of dramatic experience. This is something I talk about a lot, but I tend to like when there is at least a “push / pull” when it comes to the way a scene pulls in with clarity and tension and then alternating with moments of surprise or mystery (for all his abstraction, Lynch is often great at this). But Paprika not only has weird way of conveying story information where I was slowly absorbing the context of the relationships (and it is weird), the film also opts for that method where it constantly puts you on your heels so you are always reacting to the events on screen - then always having to deduce in their wake. It’s a game of catch-up - and one that implores repeat viewings because a lot of times you’re not really given the space to do so. Right when you’re really wanting that big of clarity you get literally hit with characters yelling lines like, “no time for questions, hurry up!”

But the clarity issue is not really about logic. Because so often in Paprika the audience is hit with the sudden revelations “oh, guess we’re still in a dream? Okay.” And that constant fake out is actually a problem. Because when you come at a story in this manner, that’s basically the one move you got and it wears out its welcome pretty quick (FWIW, Inception knows you can play that card once). It would be one thing if I didn’t think Kon was interested in tension, but I actually think he is. Which means he’s falling prey to the same old misunderstanding that fuels a lot of creative choices in this world. Because there’s this innate belief that this kind of constant fuckery keeps an audience on their toes. In actuality, it makes it harder to stay on your toes and hold tension. Not just because the audience is fickle and gets tired of playing games, but because you’re undermining the audience’s belief in “baseline reality” of what they’re seeing. When everything starts playing a potential dream, then nothing really plays as real. Without rules there are no seeming consequences. And without expectations there are no real surprises.

But with all good art, it’s not ever about the failure of one singular approach, because there’s still room to connect with Paprika on that cerebral level of abstraction and semiotic interprettion (I.E a lot of Twin Peaks: The Return is devoid of drama and showcases this brilliantly). And this is normally the kind of film where I’d want to dig deep into a semiotic feast... But I’m now three films in with Satoshi Kon and find there is something both evasive and contradictory about his ideas, particularly when it comes to the endings. I talked about the jagged nature of Tokyo Godfathers and the kidnapping mother at the end - and my similar problems with the Rumi reveal and the ending of Perfect Blue. There’s just this way where Kon is seeming to pay lockstep attention to his story with these clear-as-day metaphors, then abandons them to… seemingly surprise the audience? Say something darker and uglier and yet more misogynistically conventional about what he really believes about human nature? Maybe just bring them to a place even beyond his own understanding? Beyond the intention, the problem is that as a viewer I just don’t ever believe these dark characters turns at all.

Take the turn with chairman character, Doctor Seijirō Inui. As the scientists are going brazenly into their dangerous business of dream sharing without thinking of the inherent dangers of someone who could misuse this technology (and safeguarding against it), Inui begins with the warnings. He talks about the responsibility of technology and quite frankly, this has been an issue that’s been important to me for awhile now. No, I’m not a technophobe, nor a luddite, quite the opposite. It’s just that we’ve had two decades of watching what Silicon Valley has done with techno-libertarian mindset and all that’s happened is the ushering in an age of unchecked fascism, with a whole angle on the economic “disrupting” established systems AKA just fucking union busting on spec. It’s fucking deplorable. It honestly makes my blood boil. And here he’s literally the only character going on about the dangers of that which goes unchecked (literally manifested in the technology parade that runs throughout the movie). But, of course, all this valid warning of his is just a playful ruse. Because once again Kon can’t help but do the classic “defy expectations'' thing where Inui has to become the bad guy only because we’ve established that he’s “the one we’d least expect.” I’ll be honest in that I hoped this development was yet another red herring, but it wasn’t. In the end, he just wants a dream-verse for himself or something? And so he turns into a giant thingy for them to fight? And I’m left with four conflicting feelings as to the motive of this.

The reason Inui’s is REALLY the bad guy is because 1) he wants to stop the fun of the movie 2) this is YET AGAIN another person who resorts to being bad because of an disability (in this case, being in a wheelchair and the seeming dream of walking) and I talked about this with the stalker character in Perfect Blue, but yikes. Or 3) I worry there’s some level of psychological displacement where Kon can’t directly address the subject matter and hammer it home so he goes somewhere else with it. But 4) once again, I don’t feel like it’s malicious, it’s just part of this way Kon throws away to directions to go to unexpected or contradictory places with the ending and… and…

And I don’t really know why.

I’m three movies in and I can’t figure out the point of it. I’m honestly starting to worry he’s really going for those weird ending messages because he might actually believe them (baby snatchin’ b-s be crazy / older women are predators and they trauma they cause will make you stronger, etc). On one level, I don’t think it’s intentional. But on another level, I’m worried it’s part and parcel of the casual cruelty that’s shown up in these three films. For example, yes, I know there’s a whole arc to the way the film regards Dr. Tokita’s character (and I’ll get to that), but the brazen nature of all those early scenes just hits in this really ugly note. He gets stuck in doors! He eats more food than other people! Isn’t that funny!? Yes, I get that this was 14 years ago, but this stuff would feel lazy even then. Same goes for the drive-by hit on Himuro with “the hard boys” cover and what looked like a moment of gay panic getting crossed with pedophile implications (something that was STILL happening through the early 2000’s). But again, it’s the contradiction of these portrayals. A character expresses such cruelty and yet I think keeps ultimately reaching for good intentions.

Upon watching Tokyo Godfathers, I mentioned that it reminded me of people who come from messy / conversationally cutting families and don’t realize when certain behaviors are weird or too harsh. Granted, everyone has some form of this. I come from a Boston Irish Catholic area where the obituary is called “the Irish sports page” and everyone constantly jokes about death. Then you move to other places and turns out, this freaks people out! Like all things, a little bit of well-deployed levity can be a powerful thing, but when that’s all you do? It’s just an unbalanced system. Sometimes you don’t need a joke. You really need someone to emote and cry and hug with. All things need the capacity for all things. So again, there’s this deeply unbalanced casual cruelty to the proceedings, but I think it’s part of this inherited language of “how people just are.”

For instance, Kon shows that he knows how to take dead aim at the cruelty and possessiveness with the Doctor Osanai character. He directly unpacks his hypocrisy, chiefly the moment he shouts “but I love her!” after exhibiting horrible attempts to control her. This is monstrous love (btw, the shot of him reaching into Paprika and going up and unzipping her skin shell while she makes those horrible noises is one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever seen!?!?). But the film is not just taking dead aim with criticism, but showing humility in it’s story developments. Because while I don't think the turn with Chiba and Tokita totally works on story level (it’s sort of a told change / reveal instead of an arc we fall along with), I still know the movie has outrageous empathy for the development. You can feel the tenderness of that moment. Just as you can feel the tenderness of virtually everything about Detective Konakawa’s storyline. Because it turns out his “grand mystery” and the person he shot is not some plotty puzzle the movie is guiding us through. It’s really just about a sense of distance he feels from a friend long since lost. And in the end, you realize that after all the hubbub of the film’s machinations, it’s sort of just about getting an older, closed-off guy to start watching movies again. AKA dreaming again.

It’s a beautiful idea in a movie full of beautiful ideas.

None so beautiful of the idea of Paprika herself. But so much of it is just that: an idea. While watching I wrote a note of “Does Kon have a thing for magic skipping women?” The movie is obviously enamored with her. And I know it has this genuine empathy for the dual life Chiba / Paprika. And I know what she wrestles with this duality as a character… but I still don’t know who she really is. I don’t know what she really wants or needs beyond what she serves to others. Granted, I know the film outright admits she’s a “dream woman” projection. But for all these acknowledgements, I still don’t exactly know what the journey is. For all the interiority, I don’t get what her connection to Tokita is really about other than her finally displaying empathy for him. In short, I’m worried that only she exists to be at the service of everyone else. I’m worried that’s extra true when I read comments like this one: “When asked about his interest in female characters, Kon stated that female characters were easier to write because he is not able to know the character in the same way as a male character, and "can project my obsession onto the characters and expand the aspects I want to describe.” But really, this is more emblematic of how I’m mostly worried about my relationship to Kon’s work on the whole, because I’m really not sure I mean any of this as some abject criticism.

Because being a critic is weird.

I’ve done it long enough that I can understand certain approaches. Luckily enough, I realized early on that the least important thing is whether or not I thought something was bad or good (or even worse, my personal ranking of whatever the hell). If I’m adoring something? I just try to evoke why. A way of creating a dialogue about insight. Or maybe a way of re-living the magic of a given work through a different medium of words. And if I find something troubling? I try to articulate why in as fair and thorough a way as possible, not with the intention of bringing the work down a peg, but merely being understood and engaging in the deeper conversation of process (and I’m not always successful at it). To those ends, this Ani-Me series has been a fascinating journey into an artistic form I don’t quite know and thus don’t quite feel “safe” within (though it is a journey that will continue to go on). But going in? I knew I felt safe within the beautiful, thematically coherent mastery of Miyazaki. And now I’ve been discovering all the ways I feel safe with filmmakers like Hosada, Shinkai, and Takahata, all telling incredible stories that are filled with coherent ideation. And even with someone like Anno and Neon Genesis Evangelion, which gives a decidedly NOT FUCKING SAFE feeling to the viewer, I know he’s ultimately going to account for everything problematic and hit the particulars of my depression-laden soul with a scorching, dead-aimed arrow.

What’s interesting is that my experience with Kon is that it has not felt safe, but in a different way. While Anno can turn the screws from start to finish, Kon more makes me feel weary as he darts about in different directions - largely because of the ways he messily falls between “safe and coherent” and “messy ugly” at a moments notice. He’ll surgically dissect a problematic thing in one scene, then utterly embody the same problematic thing a scene later without a seeming nod of awareness that it’s been done. And as a critic? Part of the hardest thing to unpack this kind of messiness, particularly when it doesn’t feel like it’s part of an axe to grind on behalf of the filmmaker. Likewise, I honestly don’t know if it’s fair to abjectly criticize a movie's crassness from 14 years ago..  but I can say how it makes me feel. And it makes me feel weird and unsettled.

But it also feels directly engaging in a way that’s hard to describe, too. Because there’s something absolutely undeniable about his work (and I’m kind of excited to be coming at Millennium Actress last). I think there’s something to the messiness itself that engages. Not just in the way that people can relate to that messy feeling, but the fact that Paprika’s vague and contradictory aims create the kind of film you can still argue about it 14 years later. I get why people love these kinds of movies. I really do. But I’ll also admit I can get tired of a conversation that has no real grounding. Because in the end, I don’t really care about arguing about “what it means” forever and ever. When it comes to narrative I like feeling what it means - and being able to feel it again and again throughout the echoes of history. I mean, it’s why some movies from 70 years ago can still work like gangbusters.  It’s the feeling. And as I said, so far the work of Kon makes me feel conflicted. But part of that conflict is admitting that out of all the candidates, he’s still maybe the most vivacious imagination of all the filmmakers I’ve come across in this series.

That, and that alone, is fucking saying something.

<3HULK

… also was that baby doll thing always doing a Hitler salute, what gives?