Paprika: DVD Review
Available through Sony Pictures

I’ve heard people say that master animation director Satoshi Kon’s latest film Paprika borders on nonsensical with a nigh-indecipherable plot. At its heart though, the premise is fairly simple. A machine is developed that can tap into people’s dreams, and not surprisingly the device is used on different subjects for whom mileage varies and dream-related hijinks ensue. As such, the film is littered with scenes where the lines between dream worlds and the real world are blurred, and the non-sequitur disjointedness of dreams jarringly interrupt any attempted forays into linear storytelling. The result is a film that is so ingeniously open-ended in its presentation that it can make as much or as little sense as the viewer is inspired to contribute.

Touching on some themes explored in his anime series Paranoia Agent, Kon once again proves that he’s able to utilize the format to express a limitless range of ideas. To be sure, you could read this script without any of the images and still be left reeling, head aching from the cerebral overload, but similarly, hitting the mute button and focusing solely on the visual stimulus remains sufficient to render your eyeballs smoldering husks of their former ocular glory. Madhouse Studios is at the top of their game with the animation for this film, which is saying quite a bit when you take into account their handling of productions like Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust, Ninja Scroll and the recent Death Note series, not to mention all of Kon’s previous films. My recommendation, however, is that you don’t attempt to listen to the film’s music out of context, as even placed carefully within the protective carapace of the narrative, it may cause certifiable insanity.

The point I’m trying to brush upon with such delicate subtlety is that there is a great deal to take in when you’re watching this one. Let’s just say that I might be the only one who wants to believe that this is, at its heart, a touching love story about a beautiful, brilliant woman who is able to fall in love with a bumbling, morbidly obese man-child. Then again, the film could be about the danger of irresponsible development of technology encroaching on the sanctified grounds of personal privacy. Or it may simply be a loosely strung together excuse to animate some of the most strikingly beautiful and mind-numbing visual transitions in film history. Alternately, it could be about the importance of introspection and self-understanding in the pursuit of personal growth. If you survive the soundtrack and images of dolls and clowns with mental faculties intact, I offer you congratulations from the comfort of this very quiet and soft room, but also the possibility that another gift bestowed upon us with this film is a treatise on the importance — nay, the necessity, of escapism, fantasy and entertainment in an otherwise unbearable and overly rigid world.

By Eugene Poon