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Riding the Japanese New Wave
Paprika
The next generation of visionary anime auteurs leave a huge artistic mark on the pop culture landscape. By Charles Solomon
A
lthough few people realized it at the time, 1998 was a banner year that marked a turning point in Japanese — and world — animation. Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata already had established reputations as feature directors when their work appeared on a singular double bill in April: My Neighbor Totoro and Grave of the Fireflies. The two films, one charming and the other heartbreaking, showcased their personal strengths. Takahata was a poet who could work in a variety of genres, but even his comedies were tinged with a humanist melancholy. Miyazaki was a visionary, able to carry audiences to realms far beyond their imaginations, capturing their attention with an image as simple as two girls standing in a rainy forest. The brooding, dystopic visuals and brilliant filmmaking in Katsuhiro Otomo’s Akira (also 1988) excited audiences around the globe. The cutting and camera work in the motorcycle sequence has often been imitated, but never equaled. In another odd juxtaposition, the violent Akira and the gentle Totoro were the two films that sparked the shift of anime
Naoko Yamada
from an outré obsession for hard-core fans to a mass market in the U.S.
Rise of the Auteurs The three films marked the rise of the auteur animation director in Japan. Then as now, the Japanese industry turned out numerous features by filmmakers whose work was competent, interesting and entertaining. Miyazaki, Takahata and Otomo proved that anime features could be as personal and compelling as the best live-action films. More than 30 years later, when many American animated features feel homogenized, top Japanese directors continue to create films with strong individual stamps. The rise began slowly, then accelerated, as filmmakers explored complex social and psychological issues. Mamoru Oshii’s landmark feature Ghost in the Shell (1995) largely defined the cyberpunk genre. His vision of a gritty, oppressive future proved so compelling, it survived lesser spinoffs, including Rupert Sanders’ disastrous 2017 live-action remake starring Scarlett Johansson. Satoshi Kon’s directorial debut Perfect Blue
Mamoru Oshii
Satoshi Kon
(1997) impressed viewers on both sides of the Pacific: Critics compared the film to Hitchcock, and Madonna showed clips from it during her Drowned World Tour in 2001. Kon followed Perfect Blue with Millennium Actress (2001), Tokyo Godfathers (2003) and Paprika (2006). The boundaries dividing reality, fantasy, memory and the cyberworld thinned eerily in Kon’s films. Neither the characters nor the viewer could be certain what was real, anticipating the current “post truth” era. Had he not died tragically of pancreatic cancer at 46 in 2010, Kon would undoubtedly still rank among the world’s leading animation directors. Although the information is carefully guarded, industry publications estimate the budget of a major American studio feature at around $150 million. Japanese films are made at a fraction of that cost, with smaller crews and, often, shorter production schedules. The budget for Paprika was reportedly around ¥300 million, less than $3 million. These budgets don’t allow for the opulence of American CG features. Viewers can’t see details like the individual stitches in a character’s sweater or clumps of realistic fur blowing in the wind. No
Makoto Shinkai
www.animationmagazine.net 74
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Masaaki Yuasa jun|jul 22
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