Whoops!

Sorry for the interruption, I haven't been feeling very well the past couple of days and the next fairy tale on my list is complicated for me to write about. I'll have it up tonight, and then I'll try and double up on the last ones so I make the Friday deadline.

"Needs More Spice. How About Some Paprika!"

If you were to ask me for a list of my favorite directors, Satoshi Kon (Millennium Actress, Tokyo Godfathers) is going to be somewhere near the top. Paprika isn’t my favorite of his films, but that is by no means saying that it is not well worth watching. He is on the very short list of people who really seem to view animation as its own medium instead of a genre of film, and he uses the medium in ways I haven’t seen anyone else use it. The stories he chooses to tell with it are unusual to see in animation, and Paprika is by far the most conventional of them in that sense, but it is a film that really would not work as well in live-action because it really requires a seamless blending of reality and dream. Even with CGI effects getting as impressive as they are, there would always be a slight disconnect there that to achieve in animation is simpler because the entire thing is already animated. Your mind doesn’t register that there’s been any change because there hasn’t been one, whereas with CGI, it’s always a shift between live action and animation, and often times the spectacle itself can be distracting from the rest of the action.

All of Kon’s other works involve this theme of blurring the line between reality and fantasy, and in his other works it’s done with a very subtle touch that keeps the story moving along. Paprika is by far the most blatant use of this idea, but the narrative requires it. The story is about Atsuko Chiba, a research psychotherapist working on an experimental project with technology that allows one person to enter another person’s dreams for the sake of psychotherapy. Call it a more “hands on” approach to psychoanalysis. Chiba has a sort of dream or ‘online’ alter ego (in fact, the line between dreams and the internet is one of the more subtle ones blurred in the film) named Paprika, a spritely, red-haired girl who’s mischievous, flirty, and carefree in a way that serious, stoic, responsible Chiba doesn’t allow herself to be. Paprika goes where Chiba cannot, and in the opening scene we see her attempting to help a police detective, Konakawa, with a reoccurring dream he feels is impeding his ability to solve a murder case by becoming active parts of the dream and keeping his consciousness focused while the dream plays out. When Chiba goes to work the next day, she discovers that the technology that allows this, the DC-Mini, has been stolen and one of her colleagues has mysteriously gone missing. The problem is compounded when one of her other colleagues suddenly begins dreaming while awake; the thief has hijacked his consciousness in an act of psycho-terrorism, and it soon becomes clear that this is not an isolated incident. As Chiba and her colleagues race to find the thief and recover their stolen property before more damage is done and their project shut down, she must also contend with the blending of the real world and the dreaming world as her mind is invaded.
So while it probably doesn’t seem much like a fairy tale, I consider it to be for a number of reasons which are difficult to explain to someone who hasn’t seen the film. It very much utilizes Joseph Campbell’s basic outline of the hero’s journey, where a hero is set up for their quest, they journey to the field of adventure, endure trials along the way, and then achieve the ‘freedom to live’ ending by mastering both their external and internal struggles. The world which Chiba enters as Paprika is certainly fantastic and dangerous, and requires cunning, intellect, and creativity to maneuver in. She must also reconcile the two parts of herself she has chosen to express separately as Chiba and as Paprika, and only then is the major conflict allowed to resolve.
There is another element to this film that I love, which is unusual for me as it is typically one of my least favorite part of other films: the romantic sub-plot. Both Chiba and Paprika have a list of male admirers in the film, some more realistic than others, and it’s barely mentioned through most of the story because it isn’t necessary. But it wound up being one of my favorite parts of the entire film; I honestly thought it was wonderful largely because it was hardly mentioned and it was incredibly subtle, but on subsequent viewings, it was most certainly present. I love how Kon chose to handle it, and how he used the cinematic shorthand for the romantic triangle (or in this case, hexagon) to communicate the identity of the destined pair to the audience in unconventional ways. I particularly like what this film underhandedly says about the culture of male sexual entitlement, since not a lot of films really touch on that. (I should also say that this film is rated R for a reason, and there is a scene in particular that is incredibly uncomfortable to watch, which ties directly to the idea I just mentioned. It’s creative and disturbing and thankfully short.)
This brings me to another of my favorite points, the use of cinema in the movie itself as a means of communicating an idea to the audience. As a film, it obviously does this simply by being a film, but the characters within the film also use cinematic images and dialogue to create meaning while communicating with each other. It’s a little thing, but it made my inner film student smile when I saw it, so I wanted to mention it. Also, I love it when a director subtly breaks the fourth wall to remind the audience that they’re watching a movie (hi there, David Lynch!), and there’s a short scene where Paprika and Konakawa have a conversation that does precisely that.
There are a lot more ideas I could get into, and it’s a film that really does welcome repeat viewings because there are a lot of ideas embedded in the subtext that deserve to be talked about. Ideas like collectivism vs. individualism, the ethics of using technology, the nature of mass media and how it relates to dreams and the subconscious, the female identity crisis, duality, etc., etc. There’s a lot going on in the film, especially if you start to look at it as a product of Japanese society. It’s complex and compelling, but still able to be viewed as a simple psychological thriller on the surface, so it’s not just a film for film students. There’s another line Satoshi Kon is fond of blurring, and which I love watching him do.

"So Sharp, You Won't Feel a Thing..."

As an inveterate Neil Gaiman (Sandman, American Gods, Stardust) fan, as well as an animation nerd who’s consistently impressed with Henry Selick’s (The Nightmare Before Christmas, James and the Giant Peach) work, this one was pretty much a shoe-in for me. Based on Gaiman’s book of the same title, Selick’s stop-motion animated movie adaptation was even more enjoyable than I was expecting it to be, in no small part due to the fact that it had what so few movies aimed at kids have anymore: spookiness. Gaiman’s good at spooky, he’s made his career on it, and I was so grateful and impressed that Selick put so much effort into preserving that aspect of it, because it really made the story work. One would think, given that the basic plot revolves around a girl finding another house just like hers filled with people just like the ones she knows only with buttons for eyes, who want to put buttons in her eyes and keep her there, that spookiness would be a given, but I learned a while ago to stop trusting Hollywood adaptations, especially ones aimed at children. But Selick kept the spooky and even somewhat scary elements intact, and the result was this delicious cocktail of creative, atmospheric visuals and quirky, engaging story. It reminds me far more of the old-fashioned fairy tales from my childhood like Baba Yaga and Vasilisa the Brave, where there were rules to magic, the peril to children was real, and they had to be clever and trick the being that was menacing them.

I also like that Coraline isn’t your typical young leading lady—she’s got some snark to her, and deliberately comes off as being abrasive at times. To me, it’s understandable, since she’s new in town, just moved, and her parents are both too busy to spend much time with her. I loved the small moment where she gets to say hello to the two friends she left behind, since it really demonstrated that she wasn’t always so acidic, she was just a grumpy pre-teen in a stressful situation. I can remember being just like that, so I’m maybe more sympathetic to her than someone else might be. But I do appreciate a female heroine who has faults and isn’t all sweetness and light and is allowed to be slightly grating at times. And her parents are allowed to be flawed as well, particularly her mother. The design of them both demonstrates how similar these two are, physically and in terms of personality. Her father is less sarcastic and frustrated, but he is just as overworked, and a bit less effective at parenting. But I never got the impression that they were bad parents, per se, nor that they didn’t care about her. They were simply under pressure and didn’t have time to entertain their daughter as much as she would have liked.

While all this is understandable to a third party viewing from the outside, it’s really no wonder why Coraline is so dazzled by the world her ‘other’ mother has created for her. Her other parents not only have time for her, but they’re more pleasant to be around in general, and everything they do is designed to delight her in some way. Her eccentric neighbors are talented and entertaining in spectacular ways, and the entire world was tailor made specifically for Coraline. Like home, only better. Of course, like all magical gifts, it’s too good to be true, and the price for living in this place is a pair of shiny buttons where her eyes should be. Coraline’s a sensible girl, and there’s no question about what her answer to that is, but the Other Mother’s no pushover either, and she doesn’t like being told no.

I feel I should say here how impressed I am with Terri Hatcher’s performance as Coraline’s mother and other mother. She basically plays three roles in the film, and she does it very, very well. They’re all distinct, but not so different that it’s jarring—they are sort of the same person, in a sense. Coraline’s real mother is tired, frustrated, and harried, but doing the best she can, while the other mother at first is sweet, doting, and warm while still being a little distant. Once her real nature comes out, she is cold, aloof, and unsettling. It’s a fantastic performance, and I love that instead of getting loud and shrill when Other Mother gets angry, she gets calm and quiet. It’s so effective that way.

Another aspect I liked that I believe Roger Ebert pointed out in his review of the film, is that all the women in the film seem to have some witch-like qualities. There is something about all of them that is just slightly uncanny, often in subtle ways, but it’s still there. Mr. B, Coraline’s upstairs neighbor also has some uncanny traits, since he seems to have information about Coraline’s adventure that he shouldn’t know, which he seems to have gotten from his imaginary jumping mice. But Coraline, her mother, and the two downstairs neighbors, Miss Spink and Miss Forcible, and of course the Other Mother all have moments of varying witchiness. It’s just another layer of detail that made this movie so delightful and engrossing.

As with any adaptation, there were changes made from Gaiman’s original book, but when switching mediums, it’s necessary, and the changes made to this didn’t hamper the story in any real way for me. They’re slightly different beasts, but both very much worth spending time with. They’re imaginative, charming, spooky, clever, and the products of two very talented people, and I was delighted for hours after I was done with both of them.

Fairy Tale Week!

Yeah, I decided to give myself a challenge to force myself to write. I've had an urge to write about fairy tale-type movies I love for a bit now, and since I'm fantastically excited for Hayao Miyazaki's new film Ponyo opening on the 14th, I've decided to count down to it by talking about one of those movies every day until then.

Unfortunately, I'm a bit too tired to start it tonight, like I wanted to, so I'll kick things off tomorrow. But I wanted to get this up to make it official. In the meantime, check out the trailer for Ponyo, along with the little sneek peaks of some things I might be be talking about over the week, and get ready to feel the magic, 'cause it's on tomorrow!

G. I. JOOOOEEE! COMING TO SAAVE THE DAAAAY!

I am such a quiet little bee here! So now I shall STING YOU WITH MY LOVE OF CHEESE!

I wanna see G.I Joe. I wanna see it baaaad even though I'm less than impressed with Duke's portrayal, would like to see Marlon Wayans as more than comic relief, and don't like seeing Storm Shadow out of costume.

But Dr. Who as Destro is freaking AWESOME, as is Tommy Solomon as Cobra Commander. Any of these pop culture references doing it for you?

Snake Eyes, the Baroness, and Scarlett look aces, though, and I tend to like Stephen Sommers a lot.

Scarlett's still my favorite character though, and I'm really just seeing it for her. And to see if she and Duke hook up, even if this IS non-blond, emo-boy Duke. Maybe if he gets laid he'll get over it.

Yo Joe, mother fuckers!

Scarlett was and is a great character, just like Lady Jay even though I hated her when I was little, because she could kick your ass AND was drawn in pants. Look man, this was unusual for the 1980's, and I'll take my heroines where I find 'em.

This woman will rip your heart out and take a bite while it still beats and your ass bleeds out.

I personally can't wait for the wonderful, cheesy mayhem to begin!

Oh, Mister Carter!

I know it's been dead in here lately, and I plan to fix that really soon (it's not because of a lack of things to write about, but rather, not knowing where to start). But for now, I thought this was so cool, that I wanted to pass it on. Former President Jimmy Carter has written an op. ed. piece about why he chose to leave his church of 60 years. And I don't see much coverage about this in regular news, so I'm passing it on because I think it's worth reading.

Losing My Religion for Equality

"Persepolis", Marjane Satrapi, and Iran

I hadn't heard of Marjane Satrapi or her most widely recognized work Persepolis until the film adaptation of it began to catch people's attention in the U.S. sometime last year. Naturally, because it was animated, I was beside myself to see it, but had to wait for the DVD release to do so, since the odds of a foreign, animated film, not made for children coming to my small town were about nil. The first time I watched it, I was a bit disappointed; I'd had serious expectations going into it and the film didn't follow the sort of formula I'd been expecting. To say that this is a work that breaks with conventions is an understatement. It's an autobiographical account of a woman's life growing up in Iran during and just after the revolution in the late 70s, and into the war with Iraq. Because of the subject matter, politics are involved, but they aren't the main part of the story. Persepolis is, before anything else, about the very human people Satrapi was surrounded by during this time, as well as her own accounts. It's a sad story, frightening at times, but it's also humerous, touching, inspiring, and most certainly thought-provoking. In fact, this film has made me look at my own perceptions of the Middle East, its culture, and the people who live there, and do some serious re-evaluation, which is the primary point of the film.

It's unusual to get a glimpse of life in a culture that seems so closed off from an inside source, but that's exactly what Satrapi sets out to provide. She lived in Iran for approximately thirteen years, then lived in Vienna for about three, then moved back to Iran for an amount of time I'm not entirely clear on, then moved to France. She not only has the perspective of a native Iranian, but that of an outsider in Western culture, and it's that perspective which she has endeavored to show. It's a chance for a Western audience to see beyond 'the veil' (as it's often referred to) of Iranian culture and see the sorts of real people that live there, as well as a chance to view Western culture through the eyes of an outsider. The people depicted in Persepolis are basically the same sorts of people you'd find anywhere in the world, and to try and categorize everyone from the region under one type of persoality or one sort of belief system is as pointless as it is anywhere. It is, above everything else, a humanistic story, and I am so grateful to her for choosing to tell it to as many people as she can. It is a beautiful graphic novel, it is a beautiful film, and it has created in me an incredible consideration and fascination for the culture and the people and the country that she clearly loves.
Of course, the recent events there with the election and the protests are part of why I felt the need to revisit this particular film; I can't help but draw parallels between parts of the story and images in the news. But I also wanted to mention it as a great film on its own terms. It's honestly one of the most beautiful films I have in my collection, and it's widened my perspective and conceptions of a place that I really had very little interest in beforeheand.

It also comments on the effect that media can have on our perceptions of foreign places, whether it was purposeful or not. Marjane and her grandmother had just gone to see a Godzilla movie in Tehran, and as they leave the theater, the grandmother comments that all the Japanese ever seem to do is gut themselves or create monsters. Of course, to someone looking at popular Japanese media, that could be a pretty common conception of the culture, since they're some of the more popular images. But then, to look at Iran through the lense of the media from around the world, Iran would seem to be a place where the women are all submissive, the men are all abusive, everyone is a religious zealot, and most people are probably terrorists. Neither view of either place is fair or accurate, and Persepolis aims to present a view of Iran that defies these stereotypes by using the very form of communication that perpetuated the stereotypes in the first place. I love that scene for precisely that reason because it gets to the very heart of why Satrapi felt the need to tell her story in the first place.
The reasons I had been initially disappointed with the film are among some of the strongest reasons I love it now. I love it because it defied my expectations, because it didn't follow the formula I had anticipated, and most especially because it forced me to think about my perceptions of a place I rarely gave a thought to at all, or when I did, it was mostly in terms of what I'd heard from the news. Marjane Satrapi loves Iran-- not the government that runs it, but so often we confuse the governmental policies with the country itself. She has no love for the government there, but she loves the land, the people, the food, the history, and everything else that makes a country what it is. Looking at this place through her eyes, it's not difficult to imagine why. Her longing to see it again sparked a longing in me to see it at all, which is something I honestly never thought I'd say about anywhere in the Middle East. Not everyone who sees the film will feel the same way, of course, but if nothing else, it might make them view the nightly news differently. I know I sure do.
I was going to wait to write about this film until I got my other pending articles posted, but I saw today that Satrapi has written an op-ed piece for the New York Times, and I didn't want to let that pass by. Ever since the protests in Tehran started being covered in the news, I had wondered what she must have been feeling about it. I'm really glad to see her answer: I Must Go Home to Iran Again.