It’s difficult to express the disappointment I felt when I learnt of Satoshi Kon‘s passing last week. Since then, many heart-felt tributes have been published and half-way through writing this, I started wondering whether it was worth posting at all. Alas, what is blogging if not personal? I liked his films and, at the risk of merely adding to the white noise, I just wanted to bid farewell to Satoshi Kon in my own way; on this blog.
As such, I humbly present these following, short impressions of his 5 films, written and screen-capped after I (re)watched them all last week.
Magnetic Rose (1995)
Satoshi Kon didn’t direct Magnetic Rose, but it’s widely seen as the moment he came to prominence as a film-maker. Credited only as the script-writer, it is, none-the-less, a precursor of what was to come. It begins with a band of ragtag garbage-men following up on a mayday call from a (deep) space station. They explore it, looking for survivors, but a strange malevolence slowly envelops them; ghostly images haunt the long, dark corridors and a flash-light captures the fleeting glimpse of a child falling from the ceiling and through the floor.
Like many of Kon‘s later films, then, this is an intense and disturbing experience; not superficially, but in a way that’s fundamentally, psychologically disturbing. Tearing down any semblance of composure within these two (relatively normal) men, it tricks them and drags them into hell, but a beautifully drawn hell, at least, designed with an eye for the kind of decadent, overblown architecture not seen since the height of European aristocracy.
Perfect Blue (1998)
In Perfect Blue, Kon‘s directorial debut, we follow Mima, a Japanese (pop) idol turned wannabe actress. It begins with her performing with her idol band, “CHAM!”, for the last time, in-front of an (almost totally adult-male) hardcore rabble. Her music career didn’t turn out how she wanted, but she’s desperate to have a try at acting now instead. Her old fans, of course, aren’t exactly happy with her new choice of career, and slowly, her mind begins to unravel, torn between the pressures of her new job and paranoia over being stalked, she begins to suffer with insomnia and increasingly becomes unable to separate dreams from reality.
Harrowing is a good way to describe Perfect Blue, horrifying is another. With every passing scene, Kon peels away yet another layer of the heroine’s sanity. Towards the end, her trauma’s so intense that it’s almost too troubling to behold. Whilst not a particularly gory film, it’s as unnerving as any made before or since.
Millennium Actress (2001)
Millennium Actress is probably Satoshi Kon’s most beloved film. Gone is the violence and abrasiveness of Perfect Blue, replaced with a joyful sense of romance. Our heroine, Chiyoko, is an actress in the twilight of her life, reminiscing about her long career in the Japanese film industry.
Kon tells her story through the many roles she’s played, transitioning from far-flung science fiction to period drama, from space suits to kimonos, her real life interwoven with scenes from her films, expressing a kind of symbolic catharsis where every memory is coded with double meaning; abstract, full of colour and action, but also underpinned with a deeper subtext. Chiyoko has spent her adult life chasing a man she met only once and her search for him is the common thread tying together the rest of the film; years and years fly by, but she never gives up, always chasing her dream of meeting him again. Her love is timeless, even though her body is not.
One feels Kon’s enthusiasm in every scene of Millennium Actress; his nostalgia for the art of cinema urging Chiyoko ever onwards.
Tokyo Godfathers (2003)
One tends to enjoy the craft of Kon‘s films, but in Tokyo Godfathers, one finds him content to tell a much simpler story. Set in the rarely seen murky back-streets of Japan’s famous capital just as Christmas is reaching crescendo, the story of Tokyo Godfathers follows three homeless people who stumble upon a newly born baby abandoned in a rubbish dump and set about personally returning it to its mother.
The three homeless people are the heavy-drinking Gin, the drag queen Hana and the runaway teenage-girl Miyuki, and the banter these three share represents the warm, beating heart of the film. The drag queen Hana, especially, steals every scene he’s in; the most eccentric of the trio, but also the most responsible, he’s funny and strange but also protective and caring, like any good mother!
What’s so refreshing about Tokyo Godfathers is how well-meaning it is. All of Kon’s films up until now have expressed a heavy and melancholy feeling, but this is more content to portray the simple, human beauty of family and friendship. Gin, Hana and Miyuki may be homeless, but they are not unhappy, because they have each other. There’s a couple of very hard and thought provoking moments, but it’s ultimately optimistic, even fairy tale esque. It’s just a lovely film.
It’s fitting that in the very last scene of the last film directed by Satoshi Kon, a man buys a ticket to the movies, because if there’s one thing that comes across in all of his works (especially in Paprika’s case,) it’s that he dearly loved the big screen.
Paprika is, by far and away, his most visually creative effort, but also lacks the empathetic, personal focus that so lit up his previous works. Recalling the conclusion to his TV series Paranoia Agent, it’s apocalyptic in scale as the worlds of dream and reality begin to merge, creating an unstoppable marching parade of laughing refrigerators and giant toys (imagine Toy Story gone mad,) but between the many weird and wonderful sights to behold, the characters just lack a spark of something. It’s all so lovingly crafted, but beneath the appealing veneer of dreams, one finds mostly large, empty expanses of apathy.
In the end…
It’s easy to lament Satoshi Kon‘s passing as a huge blow to an industry not exactly overloaded with proven (theatrical) talent, but one must also consider the legacy he left behind. He blazed a trail by making films that were serious, funny, thought provoking and melancholy, but that were also anime. People often complained that his films would be better off as live action, but his chosen medium was animation and that’s what he ultimately came represent; nothing less than the daring potential anime still has to offer. As such, he was a badge of honour for many, and I think that’s why the community was so visibly torn up by his death. Kon was not merely a talented artist, but also a symbol of anime’s bright new future. A future that, I’m sure, survives in the hearts of those inspired by the man. It’s down to them now to pick up his mantle.
For what it’s worth, I really had fun going back and watching these films again. Tokyo Godfathers and Millennium Actress are the ones I liked best and the ones I’d most like to revisit time and again, but all of the above were great in their own ways. He never made a bad film and obviously still had many left in him, but rather than lament a future that’s now lost forever, let’s celebrate the anime he was able to create.
13 replies on “Farewell Satoshi Kon”
I have also been on a Kon marathon the past week and it isn’t until now that I am coming to the end of this marathon that I am truly feeling the impact of his death and the potential that we have lost. Kinda wish I had saved Millennium Actress for the final as it was so relevant damn relevant.
Yeah, I think one can watch Millennium Actress and get some closure. It’s eerie how the themes seem to overlap with what’s happened in this last week or so.
Was waiting for a post by you over the passing of Satoshi Kon. Glad you finally got to it, although I understand not having anything to say :(. These movies are truly wonderful, a true testimony to such lost talent. Millennium Actress holds a special place in my heart. Expansive landscapes, gripping story, cohesive and interesting scenarios and excellent characters. I loved how he wove old Chiyoko’s emotions into the story, was very smooth and clean. What struck a chord with me was how vastly different it was to Perfect Blue, a movie so dark and enigmatic. MA was so beautiful, so uplifting and hopeful even though the subject matter was anything but happy. “This is a man with true range, how can he make me experience extreme sadness and fright in one movie and then happiness, joy and wonder in another? Wow” It was then I knew he was someone I needed to look out for, that I did, I was not disappointed. My heart aches that we won’t be able to experience anymore of Satoshi Kon’s magic, heres to hoping his pupils, brethren or anyone deeply rooted in his work to pick up where he left off.
My heart goes out to his family and loved ones,
Rest in peace Satoshi Kon.
Well said, Ivy
I truly hope that what you and Ivy said comes true, that Kon’s work and too-early death inspires someone else to step up to the plate. Despite the economic decline anime is still too robust not to attract new artists to work in the field. They’ll bring us new things. But it’s worrisome when one of the most prominent and idiosyncratic talents leaves us before he could give us more of his work. And who WILL step up to the plate?
I’d love to see Shinichiro Watanabe make a return, but there’s promising signs coming from the likes of Mamoru Hosoda, Makoto Shinkai and Masaaki Yuasa. Ultimately, no one can ever truly replace Satoshi Kon, but I hope there’s many out there inspired by his artistic spirit and ability to throw all of himself into his films.
I think Paranoia Agent was the first Kon work I saw and it seriously scared the shit out of me. Like I saw it once on Cartoon Network and was in leaving fear of it thereafter. I’d be interested to know why Kon highlighted fear so much in his works.
There’s a book out (called “Satoshi Kon: The Illusionist”) that analyses his films. Alas, I’m not sure many could answer your question. One of the problems with following Japanese media is that the language barrier is often insurmountable and all the little interviews and discussions someone like Kon participated in are lost to us.
I’ve read so many articles about this, which made me reluctant to write my own too. But of course one of the main reasons why we’re all so saddened by Kon’s passing is that his work has such a wide appeal, yet at the same time encourages the viewers to form their own opinions and think for themselves a bit.
TBH I was expecting a relatively small fan reaction but the sheer number of blog posts, tweets and similar pieces made me sit up and realise that he had the admiration he deserved even within his own lifetime. It was also admiration earned not out of commercial promotion of his films or association with other big names, but because he was so good at what he did.
I really do hope that other animators are inspired by his MO of originality and thoughtful writing – his talent was unique and therefore irreplaceable but if we fans are as impressed with it as this, how can it NOT encourage others to realise their own potential? Here’s hoping, anyway.
My recent rewatching reminded me too of how creative and entertaining his work is, on so many levels. Millennium Actress is probably my favourite as well, although Paprika has a wonderfully uplifting sense of sheer spectacle. Comparing the two is a bit unfair of me, a bit like comparing The Girl Who Leapt Through Time with Summer Wars. Both are great, but highlight different aspects of the director’s skills. Speaking of which, what I’ve seen of Hosoda’s work does fill me with a bit of hope for the future – he’s one of the best candidates to keep that tradition going.
The community’s reaction to his death really took me aback. When stuff like this happens, it’s almost surreal and quickly gets buried under the latest episode of some anime or whatever, but the reaction to Kon’s passing has been amazing and really cemented in my thoughts what a loss he is to the future, but also renewed my faith in anime fans and proved beyond doubt that there’s still an appetite out there for good, mature, interesting stories.
Watching Kon’s movie is such a unique experience for me. It’s like living in a dream and I am quite sure that half of his life, he had lived in his own head, his own dream as well. I’d like to think that he has started on another fantastic journey. Too bad I won’t be able to see what he sees again.
“People often complained that his films would be better off as live action…”
I think that’s part of Kon’s magic – his films do things that could only be done in animation. The paranoia represented in Perfect Blue (and on a lower budget in Paranoia Agent), the nostalgia in Millennium Actress, and the dreamscapes of Paprika all really showcase the strengths of the medium – seeing reality through a completely different pair of eyes. His work was all about perception, and how attitudes and perceptions skew our visions of reality, and he chose to communicate it through a deliberately unreal medium: animation.
I’m very curious to see the last film he was working on: “The Dream Machine”; Kon said himself that it was one of his regrets, not being able to finish the production, but I would like to see it nevertheless.
[…] least one can do is still pretty good, Bateszi provides short impressions on his 5 films that make for a good introduction for people who have yet to discover his work. I fully agree when […]