Japan-Watching: Still Dreaming: Kon Satoshi’s “Paprika” and Other Visions

by Miyamoto Yūko [宮本 裕子]

Anime (アニメ) director KON Satoshi (今 敏) died in 2010 at the age of 46, but his works remain highly influential. His final film Paprika, released 20 years ago, highlights his preoccupations with the divided self and the blurring of the lines between dreams and reality.

Dream Analysis

After starting out as a manga artist in 1985, KON Satoshi [今 敏] honed his skills in the anime production teams of OSHII Mamoru [押井 守] and ŌTOMO Katsuhiro [大友 克洋], and then made his feature-length direction debut with Perfect Blue, which was released in Japan in 1998. His fourth feature, the 2006 Paprika, is an adaptation of the novel of the same name by TSUTSUI Yasutaka [筒井 康隆]. Kon was public in his admiration of the book and he is said to have aimed to produce “something like the novel Paprika” in his previous anime. Indeed, Kon’s Paprika adaptation has many factors in common with his earlier works.

KON Satoshi [今 敏]

KON Satoshi [今 敏] in Venice in September 2006, when Paprika was showing in competition at the Venice International Film Festival. (© Reuters)

Tsutsui studied psychology at university, and motifs and ideas from Freudian and Jungian psychoanalysis feature regularly in his novels. Dream analysis plays a central role in the story in Paprika. In psychoanalysis, psychologically repressed material is thought to be banished to the unconscious before emerging in a different form in dreams. Analysis of dreams has been seen as a valuable way of resolving psychological problems by bringing the repressed matter into the open.

Paprika is set in a near-future Japan, where it is possible to monitor other people’s dreams on a screen. The main character is a therapist called Chiba Atsuko, who provides treatment via her alter ego Paprika, a dream detective. The technology is abused, however, forcing people to experience nightmares, and eventually these flood into the real world.

While Kon follows the broad outline of the original work, his adaptation incorporates numerous changes. The biggest of these is the chaotic parade of electronic goodsbeckoning cats (“maneki-neko” [招き猫]), Buddhist statues, torii gates [鳥居], and other marching objects. This symbolizes nightmares spilling out of control, but there is nothing like it in Tsutsui’s book. Kon explained that the parade is made up of old-fashioned appliances and forgotten religious and traditional elements.

In Freud’s The Uncanny, he describes the titular subject as something familiar that has been estranged through repression. In the film, the members of the parade have become estranged from the conscious minds of people today, but are resurrected, and symbolize the uncanny nature of nightmares.

The parade that invades the dreams of patients. (© 2006 Madhouse/Sony Pictures Entertainment Japan, Inc.)

Integrating the Self

Alongside its Freudian elements, Kon’s Paprika shows Jungian influences. Carl Jung did not think that it was best to bring repressed aspects of the psyche under control, instead emphasizing the importance of integrating them into the self. This integration process can be seen in several of the characters.

While Konakawa, a character suffering from anxiety issues, searches through his dreams together with Paprika, he realizes that a mysterious person he repeatedly encounters is an old friend with whom he once shared the ambition of becoming a film director. This friend, who died of illness, appears in Konakawa’s dreams as his other self—the one who wanted to be a director. Konakawa overcomes his anxiety by recognizing and reconciliating with the repressed and forgotten self, represented by his old friend.

The division and antagonism between Chiba Atsuko and her alter ego Paprika are similar to those seen between Konakawa and his old friend. In the original book, Paprika was Chiba in disguise as a dream detective, but in Kon’s anime, they are like entirely different characters. In the finale, when dreams are flooding into the real world, they divide completely, existing at the same time in the same space. After this split, Chiba comes together again temporarily with the uninhibited Paprika when she no longer holds back her suppressed love for her colleague Tokita Kōsaku.

Chiba Atsuko with her divided self Paprika reflected in the glass. (© 2006 Madhouse/Sony Pictures Entertainment Japan, Inc.)

Chiba and Paprika do not divide in Tsutsui’s novel, and Konakawa’s old friend does not represent another self. This aspect of the divided self, added by Kon during the adaptation process, can be taken as a Jungian motif.

Books by the late KAWAI Hayao [河合 隼雄], renowned as a Jungian psychologist, were widely read in Japan from the 1980s until the 1990s, and Kon was among his readers. He is said to have become an avid reader of the psychologist for a time because he wanted to understand the music and lyrics of HIRASAWA Susumu (平沢 進), the former vocalist of the techno-pop band P-Model, who was influenced by Kawai. Hirasawa later created soundtracks for anime by Kon, including Paprika.

Kon also stated that he was influenced by the novels of MURAKAMI Haruki (村上 春樹), who himself developed a friendly relationship with Kawai through interviews and other encounters. Kon is said to have claimed that he was the only person who could adapt A Wild Sheep Chase [羊をめぐる冒険] and The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle [ねじまき鳥クロニクル] to anime.

Kon’s Themes

The anime Paprika could be seen as a later stage in the Kawai-led Jungian psychology boom in Japan, as well as a culmination of Kon’s characteristic themes. For example, the following aspects regularly appear in Kon’s work.

First, there is the depiction of another self. These include Chiba and Paprika in Paprika, Chiyoko and the old woman who appears at key moments and symbolizes Chiyoko’s future self in Millennium Actress (2002), and idol-turned-actress Mima and the apparition of her former pop star self in Perfect Blue.

Second, there are departures from heterosexual norms. In Paprika, the title character announces the wedding of Tokita and Chiba, which maintains the existence of this free-spirited “dream detective,” so that the film deviates subtly from the typical closed ending of heterosexual marriage. The ending of Millennium Actress suggests that Chiyoko’s long search for an artist she meets in her youth is her goal in itself, rather than a romantic relationship with him. In Tokyo Godfathers [東京ゴッドファーザーズ] (2003), alongside a caricatured depiction of a transgender character, we see the struggles of heterosexual couples and their families.

The third aspect is how media and technology blur the lines between reality and the unreal world. In Paprika, the DC Mini device erodes the boundary between reality and the dreams it is used to view, while Mima’s double in Perfect Blue appears in mirrors, PC monitors, and internet browsers. In Millennium Actress, Chiyoko’s acting roles are intertwined with her real life. In Kon’s anime series Paranoia Agent [妄想代理人] (2004), rumors transform into reality through the actions of the mass media and the characters, who in themselves are a kind of media commodity.

During a scene in Paprika when Konakawa goes to the movie theater, posters for Kon’s other films are on display. This shot shows Millennium Actress and Perfect Blue. (© 2006 Madhouse/Sony Pictures Entertainment Japan, Inc.)

Robot Adventure?

While there are clearly repeating themes in Kon’s works, Dreaming Machine [夢みる機械], which remains unfinished due to his sudden death from cancer, shows signs of an apparent major change of course. At one point it was announced that another director would complete the movie, but the producer later backtracked, saying that there was no director capable of realizing Kon’s vision.

Based on the remaining materials, this appeared set to be an action-adventure story about robots hunting down precious electricity in a near-future setting when humans are extinct. Paprika was also set in the near future, but Dreaming Machine features more overtly futuristic urban landscapes. The main characters are smaller, cartoonish robots, compared with the relatively tall humans of Kon’s other films. While it seems to have been aiming for a different kind of movie in terms of both content and visuals, was this really going to be a standard adventure story, without any twists?

Kon said that one of his influences was the manga [漫画] creator MOROHOSHI Daijirō (諸星 大二郎). In a short 1974 work by Morohoshi, also called “Dreaming Machine” (“Yume miru kikai [夢みる機械]”), robots go about their daily lives in the place of humans, who dream in a form of suspended animation. Kon’s unpublished 1984 manga Toriko covered similar ground. Can it be simple coincidence that his unfinished work has the same title as Morohoshi’s manga?

Beyond what looks on the surface like a robot action adventure, in Dreaming Machine,  Kon may have planned to depict a world of cryofrozen, dreaming humans. Or perhaps the robots were intended to be controlled consciously or subconsciously by humans. This is pure speculation, but I cannot help thinking that Kon may have intended to continue his theme of technology blurring the boundaries between dreams, or fantasy, and reality.

Some people may consider it unproductive to imagine what Kon’s works may have been, but this imaginative act helps carry his vision forward. Kon’s direct and indirect influence can be found in films like Darren Aronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream (2000) and Black Swan (2010), Christopher Nolan’s Inception (2010), and Edgar Wright’s Last Night in Soho (2021). While we will never see another KON Satoshi (今 敏) film, his vision lives on.

(Originally published in Japanese on July 10, 2026. Banner image from Paprika; © 2006 Madhouse/Sony Pictures Entertainment Japan, Inc.)

Movies as an Education in Global Looting: The Sea Hawk (1940)

Movies and the World as an Arena of Violent Domination and Global Looting

The classic Warner Brothers swashbuckler, The Sea Hawk, from 1940, within its romantic adventures and intricate swordfights (perhaps comparable to the car chases of later movies) is a partly historical, partly fictional version of a world built on imperial struggles and ransacking and despoiling. The hegemonic power in the West (and perhaps worldwide) is Spain. Phillip II the king-emperor wants to own and dominate and rule the whole world. In 1588, his Spanish Armada loses to England. (The British of course want to compare this to the Battle of Britain against the German Luftwaffe.)

Set in 1585, The Sea Hawk opens with King Philip II of Spain plotting world domination, laughing that all world maps will soon read simply “Spain” — once England is out of the way, of course.

The Spanish ambassador departs for England to escort his niece to Queen Elizabeth’s court, but in a spectacular sea battle, the Spanish galley is soundly damaged, boarded, raided and sunk by a group of pirates led by Captain Geoffrey Thorpe, a Sir Walter Raleigh stand-in played by Erroll Flynn. Thorpe rescues the galley slaves — they row the boat — and spares the crew, taking them aboard and delivering them to England. The jewels and other bounty (or a portion thereof) are a gift to the Queen.

His crew is part of a noble privateer coalition — the Sea Hawks — who justify their piracy as reclamation of English goods (and enslaved sailors) from the Spanish behemoth. The political fallout from Thorpe’s abduction of the ambassador forces Elizabeth to outlaw the Sea Hawks, including an official denial (and private approval) of his mission to Panama to steal a shipment of Aztec gold.

Inca gold is also mentioned in the movie as a target of robbing.

Sir John Hawkins (1532–1595), part of this group of global sailor-pirates and master-mariners, was one of the most notable sailors and naval commanders of the sixteenth century.

He is known for his pivotal role in the maritime history of England and the rise of the global slave trade.

John Hawkins, the son of a merchant, was born in Plymouth in 1532. He became a sea captain and in 1562 became the first Englishman to start capturing people in Sierra Leone and selling them as slaves to Spanish settlers in the Caribbean. (Notice that selling slaves does not discriminate against Spaniards even with Phillip II threatening England. Business is business.)

Stealing Aztec gold as part of colonial or imperial plundering and the slave trade were part of the dark side of history, something the standard history books “skate over” dishonestly.

A key scene between the Spanish aristocratic beauty and Captain Thorpe:

Doña María Álvarez de Córdoba: “I’m not in the habit of conversing with thieves. I thought I made that quite clear, Captain Thorpe.”

Captain Geoffrey Thorpe: “Why, yes, all except your definition. Tell me, is a thief an Englishman who steals?”

Doña María Álvarez de Córdoba: “It’s anybody who steals… whether it’s piracy or robbing women.”

Captain Geoffrey Thorpe: “Oh, I see. I’ve been admiring some of the jewels we found in your chest… particularly the wrought gold. It’s Aztec, isn’t it? I wonder just how those Indians were persuaded to part with it.”

The Sea Hawk (1940)

Donald Trump continues this tradition of looting when he says of Iraq’s oil:

“Think of it as our oil under their sand.”

Thus the whole world is an arena where the weak don’t have any property rights: not the oil or gold, not themselves (slavery) and not their country (colonialism).

This exploitative hierarchy and “world-system” is part of “the way of the world” and even a romantic adventure story like 1940’s The Sea Hawk gives you a Hollywoodized glimpse into its roots. Imperial struggles in the West spill over into colonization and ransacking and looting. History books one sees in high school are dishonest and in that sense uninformative or even disinformative.

The popular PBS travel series Rick Steves’ Europe unintentionally gives us a wonderful example of this notion of plunder and looting as a pillar of world history in the show on Venice. Rick Steves is talking about the various statues in Venice’s central St. Mark’s Square (Piazza San Marco), and comments “I’d call the style ‘Early Ransack.’”

This Rick Steves quip about ransacking and historical wealth-building is very informative.

Are There Deep Rhythms in History?

Kenneth Rogoff of Harvard wrote a very intriguing book in recent years with the title, This Time Is Different with the implication that fundamental discontinuities (i.e., this time is different) are questionable, if one looks deeply enough.  In the introduction of the book, the author raises the questions of “deep rhythms in history” without answering his own question.  Here’s a potential organizing principle: the world is always a system of violence directed at the weak. Take this entry from the Larousse Dictionary of World History:

Arawaks

The original inhabitants of the Bahamas (Lucayos) and the Greater Antilles (Taínos) who practiced a subsistence agriculture based on seafood, game, maize and cassava using Neolithic technology.  They live mainly in coastal settlements of large villages with caneyes (family houses) and bohios (chiefs’ houses) and had a hierarchical politico-religious structure based on a hereditary ruler, the cacique, who possessed a ceremonial stool (dulho).  A priestly caste-controlled worship of gods of place and nature (zemis) and ceremonies which led to heaven (coyaba). 

They were exterminated as a people by the Spaniards after 1519.

The words maize, tobacco, potato, hammock, canoe and hurricane all derive from the Arawak language.

If we think of the Rohingas of Myanmar, the Yazidis, the Tutsis in Rwanda, and the Darfur people in Sudan, of recent decades, we see a deep rhythm in history: the destruction of the unprotected.  Notice that the first Jewish ghetto in Europe (Venice) was established in 1516 around the time that the Arawak murders begin on a systematic basis.

This never-really-discussed basic rhythm of group violence has been glorified (e.g., The Iliad of Homer, the Aeneid of Virgil, the Old Testament, Scandinavian sagas, Japanese “war tales” such as the Heike Monogatari, etc.)

The omission in all education of this world-violence theme gives students a false sense of “how the world got to now.”