PaprikaThe barrier between dreams and reality is not always a solid, unbroken line. Paprika is a story of the relationship between our waking lives contrasted with those which take over when we enter the world of sleep, and how what dreams may come can be a reflection of ourselves as much--even more--than a mirror in the "real" world. To this end, a team of researchers, including Doctor Atsuko Chiba, uses the technology of the "DC Mini" headset to not only project the dreams of their subjects onto a screen, but also participate in the dream. Atsuko is thus like a counselor directly involved in her patient's psyche via her alter ego, a dream avatar named Paprika.
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Directed by Satoshi Kon, Paprika shares many similarities with the filmmaker's prior body of work, including chase scenes, a nigh-complete dissolution between perceptions of fantasy and reality, and even a gorgeous, eclectic musical score by Susumu Hirasawa, who also scored the music for Kon's Millennium Actress and his television series, Paranoia Agent. Paprika also shares some similarities with other science fiction films, which contemplate the impact of a sophisticated technological element introduced into our modern world, and its potentially devastating repercussions and deep, philosophical implications. Of note, the DC Mini and its applications immediately bring to mind the films Inception and The Cell, both of which treat the arena of dreams as a physical realm, as it is in Paprika. An example of its application comes in Chiba/Paprika's use of the DC Mini to attempt to help Detective Toshimi Konakawa resolve his anxiety via exploring the root of his turmoil which he has repressed. It is like a psychoanalytical therapy session, albeit one with a vivid, surreal couch. The applications of this technology can be immediately understood; but when a few prototypes of the experimental device go missing, the volatility of such a potent device--one capable of allowing someone to invade another's dreams--becomes evident after Chiba's colleague, Doctor Toratarō Shima, is "infected" by a dream belonging to a paranoid schizophrenic. The fellow researchers, including the obese, child-like genius Doctor Kōsaku Tokita and the somewhat cynical, aloof Doctor Morio Osanai, follow a lead indicating that the culprit behind the infection of this bizarre, increasingly contagious dream is an apprentice of Tokita's, Kei Himuro. The attack is complicated and serves as the impetus for the research team's chairman, Doctor Seijirō Inui, to pull the proverbial plug on the experiment, claiming that mankind was not meant to meddle in such technology without bearing the responsibility of it.
Paprika has been compared to the kind of science fiction works of visionary author, Philip K. Dick, whose stories always leaned toward the philosophical applications of technology. There are even moments in Paprika which seem an homage to the writer--and works adapted to film by his source material--such as Himuro's apartment, littered with dolls, reminiscent of the apartment of replicant designer, J.F. Sebastian in Blade Runner. The initial attack which nearly kills Shima is described as a "terrorist attack", which is not inaccurate in the context of the story, but redefines the concept of terrorism at a psychological--and even metaphysical--level. Even what starts as a situation which affects only a few people at first spreads wide like an epidemic, reaching Godzilla-like proportions. Dick's story, "We Can Remember It for You Wholesale", which served as the basis for Total Recall, is about using technology to fabricate a fantasy world indistinguishable from reality. In Paprika, this fantasy world is one which everyone already has access to with every R.E.M. cycle; things get interesting when this individual realm of escape and sanctuary becomes public, shared, one which the world is not only exposed to, but one in which the world is forced to participate. It raises the crucial questions about the psyche: should the "id" and "superego" be allowed to coexist in one playing field, or do these psychological conventions exist as separate for a reason? Are the unresolved desires--dreams--which make up the backwash of the mind dangerous? The imagery of the dreams are overwhelmingly vivid and steeped in metaphor, totems and images lending insight into the characters. In one such instance, a character explodes into blue butterflies, recalling the quote by the Chinese philosopher, Zhuangzi: "Once upon a time, I...dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither...not knowing it was [me]. Suddenly I awoke, and came to myself...Now I do not know whether it was then I dreamt I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming I am a man."
Identity and self are crucial themes to Paprika, best represented in the eponymous avatar herself. Paprika is clever, breezy, and very pretty--a literal "dream girl", just as Konakawa and Shima observe. As the alter ego of Chiba, she also seems the polar opposite to the superficially cold and straight-laced doctor. Paprika's existence is to serve as a beacon, an insulated "suit" which Chiba wears in the otherworld of dreams; it's as if she recognizes that she needs to use a delusion to combat a delusion. Paprika is a construct, but one which paradoxically seems to possess its own unique identity, one which even operates independent--and at one point, in spite of--Chiba's motives. Paprika exists in the real world at least in how Chiba sees herself at times in her reflection, but their individuality blurs as the conflict progresses. So when the climax comes, Paprika and Chiba's own involvement in the resolution also seems to be a consolidation of herself, and a form of psychological rebirth, as though the experience mended the fracture that existed within her, heretofore unresolved.
When Paprika first speaks to Konakawa about his dream, she asks him if he likes movies, which he fervently refutes, his repressed desires already revealed. As Paprika progresses, it is revealed that Konakawa was an aspiring filmmaker who turned away from his craft out of fear of failure, becoming a detective instead. Especially for Konakawa, the link between movies and dreams is highly pronounced. Like dreams, films can take you into another world, a place where the fantasy seems to be a reality. Konakawa later describes key details to Paprika about film direction and cinematography, details which a skilled filmmaker like Kon was clearly aware of, considering his own work. In his memory, Konakawa recalls the movie he and his friend made, one with stylistic flourishes very much in line with Satoshi Kon's own direction, and Konakawa also explains that his guilt is in part due to his friend being left to finish the film, yet passing away later due to illness. Although Paprika was made in 2006, there is a tragic irony between this scenario and Satoshi Kon's own untimely passing, shortly following his diagnosis of pancreatic cancer four years later. Paprika proved to be the last release by this gifted filmmaker who passed away too soon, although his final work remains in progress, and one hopes it will find a posthumous release at some point in the future; it is appropriately titled Dreaming Machine. This work which exists in a half-state reminds me of the ephemeral condition of some of the characters near the end of Paprika, who exist between the two worlds, as though on a spectral plane of existence. Although a little different in Paprika, it does suggest all the same that the world of dreams is also not unlike an afterlife, a place for immortality of souls, a place where great artists like Satoshi Kon--and their contributions to make us question our perceptions of the world around us--can exist forever.
Recommended for: Fans of a philosophical and gorgeous animated work, a highly intelligent and thought-provoking cinematic work of art about dreams, reality, identity, technology, and psychology. It is also an engaging bookend to an all too short filmmaker's career.
Paprika has been compared to the kind of science fiction works of visionary author, Philip K. Dick, whose stories always leaned toward the philosophical applications of technology. There are even moments in Paprika which seem an homage to the writer--and works adapted to film by his source material--such as Himuro's apartment, littered with dolls, reminiscent of the apartment of replicant designer, J.F. Sebastian in Blade Runner. The initial attack which nearly kills Shima is described as a "terrorist attack", which is not inaccurate in the context of the story, but redefines the concept of terrorism at a psychological--and even metaphysical--level. Even what starts as a situation which affects only a few people at first spreads wide like an epidemic, reaching Godzilla-like proportions. Dick's story, "We Can Remember It for You Wholesale", which served as the basis for Total Recall, is about using technology to fabricate a fantasy world indistinguishable from reality. In Paprika, this fantasy world is one which everyone already has access to with every R.E.M. cycle; things get interesting when this individual realm of escape and sanctuary becomes public, shared, one which the world is not only exposed to, but one in which the world is forced to participate. It raises the crucial questions about the psyche: should the "id" and "superego" be allowed to coexist in one playing field, or do these psychological conventions exist as separate for a reason? Are the unresolved desires--dreams--which make up the backwash of the mind dangerous? The imagery of the dreams are overwhelmingly vivid and steeped in metaphor, totems and images lending insight into the characters. In one such instance, a character explodes into blue butterflies, recalling the quote by the Chinese philosopher, Zhuangzi: "Once upon a time, I...dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither...not knowing it was [me]. Suddenly I awoke, and came to myself...Now I do not know whether it was then I dreamt I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming I am a man."
Identity and self are crucial themes to Paprika, best represented in the eponymous avatar herself. Paprika is clever, breezy, and very pretty--a literal "dream girl", just as Konakawa and Shima observe. As the alter ego of Chiba, she also seems the polar opposite to the superficially cold and straight-laced doctor. Paprika's existence is to serve as a beacon, an insulated "suit" which Chiba wears in the otherworld of dreams; it's as if she recognizes that she needs to use a delusion to combat a delusion. Paprika is a construct, but one which paradoxically seems to possess its own unique identity, one which even operates independent--and at one point, in spite of--Chiba's motives. Paprika exists in the real world at least in how Chiba sees herself at times in her reflection, but their individuality blurs as the conflict progresses. So when the climax comes, Paprika and Chiba's own involvement in the resolution also seems to be a consolidation of herself, and a form of psychological rebirth, as though the experience mended the fracture that existed within her, heretofore unresolved.
When Paprika first speaks to Konakawa about his dream, she asks him if he likes movies, which he fervently refutes, his repressed desires already revealed. As Paprika progresses, it is revealed that Konakawa was an aspiring filmmaker who turned away from his craft out of fear of failure, becoming a detective instead. Especially for Konakawa, the link between movies and dreams is highly pronounced. Like dreams, films can take you into another world, a place where the fantasy seems to be a reality. Konakawa later describes key details to Paprika about film direction and cinematography, details which a skilled filmmaker like Kon was clearly aware of, considering his own work. In his memory, Konakawa recalls the movie he and his friend made, one with stylistic flourishes very much in line with Satoshi Kon's own direction, and Konakawa also explains that his guilt is in part due to his friend being left to finish the film, yet passing away later due to illness. Although Paprika was made in 2006, there is a tragic irony between this scenario and Satoshi Kon's own untimely passing, shortly following his diagnosis of pancreatic cancer four years later. Paprika proved to be the last release by this gifted filmmaker who passed away too soon, although his final work remains in progress, and one hopes it will find a posthumous release at some point in the future; it is appropriately titled Dreaming Machine. This work which exists in a half-state reminds me of the ephemeral condition of some of the characters near the end of Paprika, who exist between the two worlds, as though on a spectral plane of existence. Although a little different in Paprika, it does suggest all the same that the world of dreams is also not unlike an afterlife, a place for immortality of souls, a place where great artists like Satoshi Kon--and their contributions to make us question our perceptions of the world around us--can exist forever.
Recommended for: Fans of a philosophical and gorgeous animated work, a highly intelligent and thought-provoking cinematic work of art about dreams, reality, identity, technology, and psychology. It is also an engaging bookend to an all too short filmmaker's career.