I’d Love To Turn You On At The Movies #161 – Paprika (2006, dir. Satoshi Kon)

Movies share such a deep connection with dreams that we describe our dreams in cinematic terms as often as filmmakers conjure up evocative and memorable dream sequences. Many films have depicted the elusive dimension of our dreams, but few have explored this territory with as much style, nerve, and imagination as Satoshi Kon’s Paprika. In just ninety minutes, Paprika weaves together a hard-boiled noir mystery complete with a world-weary detective, a sci-fi thriller in which a group of scientists race to retrieve a dangerous new technology, and an exhilarating visual expression of the limitless frontiers of dreams. With this remarkable blend of gripping genre narrative and non-linear elements, Kon draws the connection between dreams and films even tighter by melding his dream-focused masterpiece with a love letter to the magic of filmmaking.

The notion that a machine capable of capturing dreams would become a potentially dangerous and extremely valuable device runs through films like Wim Wenders’ Until the End of the World and Christopher Nolan’s Inception, but Paprika allows this idea to blossom and thrive in a singularly captivating manner. The film’s mind-bending opening sequence establishes the DC Mini, an experimental technology that allows therapists to enter the dreams of their patients. After this introduction, the team of scientists who developed the DC Mini realize that someone has stolen it. With this team, Satoshi Kon creates a dynamic group of idiosyncratic characters who revere the awesome potential of their discovery as much as they fear the consequences of the DC Mini falling into the wrong hands. Just as the film’s characters caution each other about the risks of exploring the dreams of others, Kon demonstrates a similar respect in his depictions of the subconscious mind. Yes, the screen repeatedly fills with psychedelic images of gleefully uninhibited minds running rampant, but the dreams in Paprika aren’t simply gorgeous set pieces. These dreams are not only essential to the film’s tricky plot, but they also offer the audience insight into the motivations, fears, and desires of the main characters. Kon references many films (including his own works) throughout the dream sequences in Paprika and celebrates the dreamer as a creative hero equal to any lauded filmmaker. Early in the film, the character of Paprika establishes this sentiment by declaring, “REM sleep that occurs later during the sleep cycle is longer and easier to analyze. If earlier cycles are, say, artsy film shorts, later cycles are like feature-length blockbuster movies.” With nods to screen icons like Tarzan and James Bond as well as tributes to master filmmakers like Akira Kurosawa and Walt Disney, Kon draws out the intangible links between the creative domains of dreams and films.

Satoshi Kon’s innovative animation techniques allow for fluid transitions between the characters’ kinetic, stylized reality and the boisterously warped terrain of their subconscious minds. This approach taps into the stunning beauty and uniquely disturbing realms of dreams in a manner nearly unrivaled in modern cinema. Where other filmmakers have resorted to distant, flickering tableaus or stunning, but leaden special effects to portray unconscious visions, Kon explodes our expectations with unbridled flurries of fantastic images that fall into the uncanny rhythm and logic present only in dreams. Sadly, Paprika became Kon’s fourth and final film before his death at the age of 46, but this film endures as an achievement in the artistic investigation into the timeless mysteries and enchantments we encounter when we sleep.

-          John Parsell

I'd Love to Turn You On #145 - Harry Nilsson - The Point

Harry Nilsson's The Point, released as both an album and full-length animated T.V. special in 1971 succeeds on two different levels. It is another in a string of fantastic Nilsson records which were about to reach their apotheosis with 1972's Nilsson Schmilsson. Because of that album's overwhelming commercial and artistic success, The Point sometimes gets minimized. For me, being 12 years old upon its release, it was actually a far more impactful album at the time. As nearly as I can tell, Nilsson wrote the songs first, pitched the idea for an animated special to an ABC executive, got it green-lighted and the animation got made, then Nilsson himself kind of wrestled it into its final cinematic form. The original television broadcast in February of 1971 was a pretty big prime-time deal, which included Dustin Hoffman narrating the story - appropriate considering Hoffman’s tangential role in Nilsson’s career as the star of Midnight Cowboy, which included Nilsson’s version of the hit song “Everybody's Talkin'.” There are also scenes in The Point that feel oddly similar to Hoffman's breakout role in The Graduate. On the DVD version, the narration is supplied by Ringo Starr, also appropriate due to the ex-Beatle’s longtime friendship with Nilsson. The other voices include Mike Lookinland (Bobby Brady) and the great character actor Paul Frees, whose presence is almost miraculously recognizable and comforting from countless appearances in 1960's children's entertainment. All these points of cultural convergence lend an even greater emotional poignancy and historical weight to the film and album. It is inextricably linked to the decade it followed, and in a way, feels like one of the really clean, unsullied representations of the childlike sweetness of much of the 60’s experience.

The movie itself is an explosion of primary watercolor, with an animation style somewhere between Yellow Submarine and the cartoons found in The New Yorker. It is reminiscent of the best of the 1960's Saturday morning cartoons, but with the lysergic undercurrent of a Fillmore light show. It’s a simple tale of a boy named Oblio who is born different from everybody else in his world, because his head has no point. He has a round head, and everybody in the land of point must have a point. Sadly, Oblio and his faithful dog Arrow are banished to the pointless forest. Here they meet a variety of colorful characters who provide neat metaphors or solutions to the modern dilemmas of growing up and fitting in. During his experiences, we come to recognize Oblio as a classic alienated youth. He confronts and comes to grips with the generation gap, conformity, freedom, independence, identity and, when his parents knuckle under to society's expectations instead of supporting their son, the concept of “never trust anyone over 30,” before triumphantly returning home to show the rest of the world that under the shape of your head, we are all the same - an important lesson for all children (and adults). After more than 30 years of working in record stores, I have come to the conclusion that The Point was an elemental experience for many people who were lucky enough to experience it upon its initial airing. I've had so many conversations about it where people's eyes just glaze over with giddy nostalgia as they quietly breathe "Oh I just LOVED The Point when I first saw it." The film impacted many in a positive way. It was cool and it packed a strong moral wallop -perfect for the post-60's hangover.

Musically, this might be the easiest way “in” to Nilsson’s work. The songs are classic Nilsson - whimsicality with a heightened sense of innocence in consideration of his intended audience. As always his voice is a wonder - silky smooth and soaring. The album version breezes along much more quickly than the movie. Harry Nilsson himself provides an abbreviated, and thus somewhat more coherent narrative. He skips most of the dialogue, and just frames the plot succinctly, lending just the right amount of context to make this feel like a children's fable instead of another Harry Nilsson album. The songs themselves are some of his most touching and memorable. “Everything's Got 'Em,” “Me And My Arrow,” “Down To The Valley,” “Think About Your Troubles” and “Are You Sleeping?” are absolute classics of that most elusive of genres: kid appropriate rock which is as good as adult appropriate rock. The real treasure lies in two ballads: “Life Line” and the beautiful “Think About Your Troubles.”  Any Nilsson fan will love this record, and the record or the film can turn almost anyone into a Nilsson fan. As a separate entity the animated movie The Point is both a classic kid's film and full of psychedelic imagery, but the greatness of it all rests squarely on Harry Nilsson's wonderful songs.

-         Paul Epstein

I'd Love to Turn You On At the Movies #120 - The Triplets of Belleville (2003, dir. Sylvain Chomet)

For this installment of “I’d Love to Turn You On” I have the pleasure of reviewing Sylvain Chomet’s 2003 animated masterpiece The Triplets of Belleville. At first glance this is a very simple story told in a very innovative and eccentric way. However when you dig a little further into this simple and brief tale of mystery, intrigue and love you’ll find that it is quite a rich and very well told tale. Additionally it has some of the best and most interesting animation I have ever had the pleasure of watching and a soundtrack that is as stunning as it is odd. Simply put this is a film that has very few lines of dialogue yet tells a very strange and convoluted but beautiful story.

The first thing that strikes me when watching this movie is just how amazing the art and animation is! In a world that was already evolving into the computer animated, Pixar-obsessed world of today, it is truly a treat to find such a painstakingly and carefully hand animated film. Each character is designed in a unique and particular way, and then given a very specific nuanced movement and personality. Through this animation process the characters come alive in a very special and often forgotten way. It brings to mind the old animated classic cartoons but in a bizarre and extraordinary way that differentiates it from the more crude cartoons of old. While I have now spent a few sentences attempting to the striking animation justice, I am finding myself at a loss. I don’t believe that words are enough to fully describe the magnificence embodied in the aesthetics of this film. The settings, the scenery, the characters and the detail involved in all of these things are simply something that you MUST see and experience in order to fully understand.

The second thing that strikes me when writing this piece is just how bizarre and intriguing the storyline is. Simply put a Grandma is attempting to raise her grandson. She tries her best to find things that will interest him and turn his life around so that he can live a happy and fulfilling life. After a few failed attempts she stumbles upon his journal and discovers that he has a bit of an obsession with bicycles. Ecstatic that she has possibly found the thing that will provide her grandson with lifelong happiness she buys him a bike, and he is elated. Flash forward a decade or so later and the little boy has grown into ‘the Champion’ and is training for the Tour de France with the help of his loving grandma, Madame Souza, and their loyal dog Bruno. However during the race two mysterious rectangle-shaped-sunglass and moustache-clad henchmen kidnap the Champ during the race. Discovering that something is amiss, Madame Souza and Bruno find and follow the rectangular thugs across an ocean to “Belleville” (a sort of American amalgamation). It is here that Souza and Bruno take up with the musical Triplets in order to continue their search for the Champ. Why did the mysterious brutes kidnap the champ? Will Madame Souza and Bruno ever find him? Where do the musical Triplets come into play? All of these questions and more are delightfully answered in this short but constantly entertaining and engaging plot.

The third thing that I find to be particularly amazing is the fact that the film and its rather complex plot are told through very sparing use of dialogue. Instead the film relies very heavily on subtle expressions from the characters and a well-orchestrated and emotive soundtrack, put together by Benoît Charest (alongside Chomet). While this might initially seem to limit the film in its ability to convey a story successfully I assure you that the movie not only develops and tells a beautiful and complex tale but it does so in a way that is amusing and heart wrenching. This is a glorious example of a movie that will make you laugh and cry, humorous and at the same time quite touching. Chomet is even able to execute some sly commentary through the character designs (which is best experienced and not described) and the use of animal personification in the characters and different types of people - the racers are given horse characteristics for example, and the mechanic for the bad guys is given the characteristics of a rodent. All of this just adds to the immense charm of the film.

While I could go on for hours about how amazing this movie is, I suppose that I should get down to brass tacks: why should you take a chance on this film? Because it is a perfect representation of an almost forgotten art (hand animation), because it has an always intriguing and entertaining story line, because it has a fantastic soundtrack, and because it is brilliantly told even with almost non-existent dialogue. This is truly an anomaly of a film and I implore you to take 80 minutes and experience it for yourself. Nothing I can say in words will completely do this idiosyncratic classic complete justice. You simply must see for yourself!

            

- Edward Hill