Paprika
The first time I saw Paprika was not ideal. I had recently had my wisdom teeth taken out and was still incredibly loopy on the gas afterwards. I was rather unruly and way too much for my family to handle afterwards. Kicking was common. On the way home, restrained by several seatbelts, I was saying I wanted to watch a movie but could not properly vocalize which ones I wanted to watch. The video rental was still open in my town and the family stopped by it. Usually my dad would only rent one film for me, but this time every single film he rented was one for me to watch as I spend time in recover. Among the rentals was Paprika, which I demanded to watch right away.
I was, of course, too loopy to delve into it. I would have to rewatch it later that same week.
Satoshi Kon’s films are always incredibly layered. It’s par the course for him, but in new and incredible ways. The way his films are cut and edited really mess with the audience’s perception of the “reality” being presented and Paprika takes that to the next level. Its opening sequence presents the unreality of dreams and aligns it with the language of film itself, to equate dreams with movies. The title sequence plays with these blurred lines as the titular Paprika goes from her appointment with Konakawa to the research facility for the DC mini, the device that allows her to enter dreams, as she slowly becomes Doctor Atsuko Chiba.
Dream and reality is one layer. Dream and film is another. Film and reality yet another layer. These are only surface, however. Id and ego and superego goes deeper. Conscious and subconscious too. Truth and lies lie at the center, but not to be confused with fiction and reality. Lies are told to deceive, fiction is told to comfort.
As more and more layers are peeled away from the central mystery of who stole the DC mini, lies are revealed and the two-faced nature of the thieves come to light. The true faces of everyone, really, comes to light. Chiba confronts the truth of her feelings, Konakawa confronts his regrets. Our villains, however, can’t confront the truths of mortality, of ambition, or of “genius”. They covet truths but cannot stand to it. Is it any wonder why Tokita is the one who created the DC mini? Why he is the one who can hold Chiba’s affections?
In the end, with this final feature film from Kon, it feels like he is saying that it is never too late, at least to me. It’s not too late to be true to yourself, it’s not too late to step in and bask in genius, and there is no time wasted if you are enjoying your time.