Perfect Blue

“The persona is a complicated system of relations between individual consciousness and society, fittingly enough a kind of mask, designed on the one hand to make a definite impression upon others, and, on the other, to conceal the true nature of the individual.” - C.G. Jung, Two Essays on Analytical Psychology Satoshi Kon’s masterpiece is an audio-visual retelling of Jung’s idea about the persona. It forcefully makes us put on the Jungian mask and lets us experience it ourselves. The first word that comes to mind regarding the film is atmosphere. It masterfully pulls the viewer in, with its brave silences and its beautifully composed visuals, placing us right in the middle of an unpleasant, jarring world refusing to let us go. As if we ourselves enter the protagonist’s head, we fuse with her fragmented mind, feeling just as scared and unsure of what is reality as Mima herself. One could go on for hours about the brilliance of the film’s storytelling alone. Yet, this masterful narrative execution is only the baseline of what the film achieves. It premiered in 1997, at the dawn of the internet age, prophetically predicting the alienating consequences of digital technology. Through the Mima’s Room website, Kon illustrates the detachment of the persona from the individual. This is exactly where the film intersects with postmodern philosophy. The pop idol in itself is a simulated reality, a hyperreal entity that seems more polished and perfect than reality itself. Amidst the frightening uncertainty of a new acting career, the authentic real world becomes unbearable. It is no wonder why Rumi falls in love with the simulation. The pop idol becomes the perfect archetypical allegory of escape from the postmodern condition, replacing the imperfect, yet undeniably authentic, self out of a fear of confrontation with reality. And here we are, we have circled back to the individual yet again. It is not only the audience (Me-Mania and Rumi), but Mima the individual who is also subject to the conflict between the hyperreal simulation and the authentic self. However, Mima’s perspective is necessary to show us that there is no simplistic duality between a "real" self and a "hyperreal, fake" self. Instead, identity is far more fragmented and complicated, better portrayed as a constant flow of emotions and various separate pieces. The protagonist herself is a subject to this constant flow losing her sense of direction entirely in the process. Only in the end does she find redemption through the act of saving Rumi from certain death. By this act alone she embraces the complex nature of the individual. Instead of the hopeless fight against fragmentation, she accepts herself as a constantly changing and essentially shapeless person, whose masks too are just as essential to her identity as any other facet of her self. Only through the integration of these masks, worries and self-doubts can she fully embrace her true nature as an individual and declare proudly: No, I am not merely composed of fragmented personas. I own all my doubts and worries with pride and bravery. Without them, I might appear perfect, yet I remain fragmented. With them, and with them only, I am truly whole. I am the real Mima. Satoshi Kon’s brilliant movie is filled with dread and hopelessness throughout, but it is only through this constant struggle that it becomes possible to arrive at its surprisingly bright and hopeful conclusion. And the conclusion is the importance of the journey of self-discovery and self-overcoming in itself. Mima’s struggle and downward spiral are not mere inconveniences that she has to forget. It is what makes it possible for her to fully embrace and understand her authentic self. A beautiful tale about human struggle and self-overcoming, presented with utmost care and humility, born out of a genuine love for our complicated lives as human beings.