Candy-coated dreams.

Paprika (Satoshi Kon, 2006)

Satoshi Kon's Paprika is a ‘breath of fresh air’. Or at least in the world of animation, it is a great achievement. No animated film comes to mind in tackling a significant subject matter — one that is not encumbered by its propensity to entertain while bordering on the Hallmark-ish or commonsensical. Well, after all, this Japanese anime is not intended for kids but one that is a must-see when they are able to discern the complexities of reality, or in this case, the realm of dreams as opposed to reality.

I have not been an avid anime fan, though cartoons offered a sort of diversion from the usual stuff – a familiar trip to the childlike territory I can always make. In fact, I can immediately recall Dragonball Z as the anime series that I have closely identified with (good thing the local channel is airing reruns of it), next to Ghostfighter probably. Nor was I hooked to video games which are heavily inspired by Japanese animation. Except when I was in Grade 4 and 5 where I cut afternoon classes and spend time in arcades drowned in the rebellious noise and addictive visuals.

Despite this lack of background on anime, I am particularly sure that the unique escapist and redemptive qualities in Japanese animation remains to appeal to its disciples – an alternate reality where one can vent emotions without having to feel guilt and uncertainty after such delinquent indulgence. This kind of alternate reality is explored masterfully in Kon's Paprika — a sort of cautionary tale about the effects of technological innovation.

The scientific breakthrough in this case is called the DC-Mini – a miniscule device that can penetrate into our dreams. In this technology-driven age, it seems that people must resort to their own dreams and its recuperative wonders to cure them of their anxieties. The DC-Mini allows such therapy to happen with the aid of Paprika, the alter-ego of one of the device’s inventors, Dr. Atsuko Chiba. However, one of its prototypes are stolen by a madman, who we are made to initially believe as one of the scientists, Himuro, who invades and controls the patients subconscious making them unable to discern between what’s real or not – which includes even Chiba’s co-doctors Dr. Shima and the huge Tokita. We are also introduced to one of their patients, Detective Konakawa, a troubled cop with an unsolved murder and guilt from his past.

The female doctor is the personification of a feminine savior as shown by Kon and her duality emphasizes the idea of reality and the realm of dreams, the unconscious fusion of both and our inability to distinguish which is which. This merging of two extremes is magnified in the concluding sequences that is somehow creepy in its wanton playfulness and hallucinatory in the use of surreal images – giant frogs, dolls and robots, vending machines, refrigerators coming to life in a boisterous parade. The oddity can be best described as Lynch-ian and the sudden transition between alternating worlds, Fellini.

Kon also raises the concept of new media and old media, in the form of the Internet and the cinema, where he manifests his love for the cinematic form. The character of Konakawa uses the Internet as a form of escape, an alternate dimension. In cyberspace, we can create online identity/ies, that don’t necessarily reflect our true selves. We create certain characteristics separate from our own but at the same time we also create a reflection of our own true self – again the combination of real and unreal. However, despite this emerging outlet, Konakawa is finally redeemed by his lost passion for filmmaking, a passion he shared with his best friend whose death remains his ghost from the past. The dreamlike sequence where Konakawa leaps from a jungle-adventure to spy movie illustrates this alternate realm which eventually frees him of his guilt.

Let it not be assumed that this head-trip is boring, deep and devoid of coolness. In fact, it’s cool, because it’s brimming with intelligible discourse that doesn’t leave you exasperated while the stunning visuals and a hedonistic pop mélange leaves you suspended until you realize an hour and half has actually passed. For a genre and form bereft of stereotypical qualities, Paprika is a fresh way of looking at things.