This is very much a product of its time: it features Tomoyo Harada, a screen idol of the early 80s who has since become a singer/songwriter with a pretty respectable back catalogue, albeit no longer as a household name. The director Nobuhiko Obayashi is another old industry regular that I’m not familiar with but he’s apparently notorious for his surreal style; any oddness present in this film isn’t excessive, but it’s interesting.

The special effects of the time leaping are probably the worst thing about it since they really do look like something from the 80s. Other aspects have aged better: Obayashi does some cool stuff with colour saturation, starting the opening scene off in black-and-white then bringing the full colour gradually into the video frame (screenie below). It’s an innovative little arthouse touch that I don’t recall seeing anywhere else but works well here. I thought MPC was playing up but the aspect ratio is indeed different at the beginning: I wonder if it was the inspiration for Shinbo in Bakemonogatari and other recent experimental types.

I’m assuming this movie was originally promoted using Harada’s appearance in the starring role, which is probably a point lost on us now. It was her feature-length debut too and I believe she earned a best-newcomer award or two for that; she took a bit of flak for her performance of the end theme but quite frankly I’ve heard a lot worse. Besides, her acting performance seemed to improve as the movie progressed and by the time the twist at the end appeared I was pretty impressed.

One aspect of the casting I did find familiar however was that of Ittoku Kishibe, who has since gone on to star in a lot of other stuff. I personally know him best from playing up his dependable father-figure role in the excellent Survive Style 5+, but the performance from his considerably younger self here was also worthy of a mention.

As slow as it is, this take on the Tokikake franchise is a pretty moving romantic drama. The love triangle and the coming-of-age aspects that helped make the 2006 animated version so enjoyable are also present here and the plot plays out slightly differently: it’s nothing major but there are just enough surprises for those of us who have seen the anime. The ending in particular is quite well done, especially if the foreshadowing succeeds in fooling you as it did with me.

I suspect this has slipped under a lot of people’s radar but I’d be interested to see whether it gains a resurgence in popularity in light of the new live-action sequel. The synopsis of the 2010 film suggests that the protagonist of the 1983 version is also an important character, albeit played by a different actress. Part of me wishes that Harada could be given a cameo in the new version, but maybe it really has been too long for the audience to appreciate such a subtle nod to its heritage.

Looking up the background to this film was therefore almost as interesting to me as actually watching the thing. For starters, it highlights how extensive the Tokikake franchise is as a whole: there’s the original novel penned by acclaimed SF writer Yasutaka Tsutsui (of Paprika fame), a TV drama from the 70s, this feature-length movie, a 1994 TV series, a 1997 feature film remake, another made-for-TV film in 2002 starring members of girl group Morning Musume, the 2006 anime movie and that live-action sequel earlier this year.

I really had no idea about most of these – it’s pretty fascinating to see how many famous names have been involved with it over the years. My experience with Japanese cinema is mostly limited to the past decade or two with the exception of the obligatory Akira Kurosawa thrown in, so it was a new experience to watch an old but not really old film (as in, it’s almost as old as I am).

I guess it’s also an earlyish example of the now-familiar practices of promoting a film off the back of a popular novel and casting a young and popular face for the protagonist. The task of being the poster girl for the movie, playing the lead role and singing the end theme (which, naturally, was released as a single) is therefore far from a new idea…here in Internet Land where memories are short it’s commonplace enough as topic for conversation, but I got a bit of a kick out of seeing how far back these ideas go.

Beyond that, there isn’t a great deal I can say about this film. A lot of the ideas and storylines are familiar ground for those of us familiar with the Hosoda version that I’ve blogged about before, and there isn’t an easy way to outline the differences without spoilers. For some reason, trying to write this post made my brain seize up so I’ll leave it here and move onto something else. My time off work is almost at an end so I guess I’d better enjoy the feeling of having get-up-and-go while it lasts.

Before launching into the post proper I must admit I found the film more enjoyable than the novel, even putting my love of Kon’s style into account. A story that melds dreams and reality works better for me on screen and I found Kon’s take on the plot (as condensed as it was) to be a bit more cohesive. It captured the spectacle of dreams more effectively, and the mystery of the antagonist(s) was held out longer. That said, Tsutsui’s version is still worth a read whether you’ve seen the film or not.

My advice would be to try both. I love what Kon did with the story but the novel, perhaps inevitably since it’s too long for a scene-for-scene cinematic adaptation, has more explanations regarding the backgrounds to the characters. The translation is a bit clumsy and stilted in places but I prefer the less Americanised style that Andrew Driver writes in. I’m not sure of his nationality but he opted for British rather than American English; since most of, say, the two Murakamis have been handled by stateside translators this was a refreshing change for me. It flows quite well overall, and I feel grateful to Driver for doing his bit in bringing this novel to an international readership.

The novel features a slightly larger cast but the most obvious difference is the way in which the link between Chiba and Paprika is emphasised. Again, I find Kon’s portrayal of this to be slightly more in keeping with the mental weirdness of the story because I think Paprika is more convincing as an inner alter-ego rather than her alias in a literal sense. What Tsutsui does very well though is push the ethical aspect forward more prominently.

The subplot of Chiba and Tokita being in the running for a Nobel Prize for their work in dream-orientated psychological therapy is unique to the novel, and gives a fascinating slant to the proceedings. It holds a larger question mark over the moral implications of what their invention is capable of, not to mention how it adds more weight to the villains’ actions. Rather than being a whiter-than-white heroine of the piece, Chiba’s moral stance is less clear-cut, Tokita is even more naïve and the message about considering the costs of scientific advances comes across more clearly.

It also boosts the office politics and infighting; something that sits well alongside the side-story relating to the character of Mr Noda. It would’ve been enough to have him as a patient of Paprika on his anxiety condition alone, but his circumstances are dealt with in such detail they have some worthy messages of their own. There’s certainly a lot of satire and social commentary here which I really appreciate, but sadly some of that trademark black humour of Tsutsui’s that I’ve heard so much about was lost in translation for me.

What I didn’t expect was the amount of sexual tension running through the entire narrative: given the way in which the environment of dreams plays around with our thoughts, feelings and inhibitions maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised at this. Even so, the Institute for Psychiatric research comes across as a hotbed of simmering passions and sexual deviancy; a scenario that I find hard to believe based on my own experiences in scientific establishments! But eh, it’s an interesting concept when you think about it: considering how they are working with people who have serious mental problems, how do these particular research methods increase the risk of patients’ symptoms rubbing off on their doctors?

Again, it’s questioning the ethics of Chiba’s work when Paprika’s existence is supposedly secret but she is still popular with her patients. As much as Tokita is ridiculed as being irresponsible to the point of being inadvertantly dangerous, Paprika is celebrated by those who know her but they overlook the way in which she doesn’t follow anyone’s rules either. The odd coupling of Chiba and Tokita says a lot about public perceptions too, showing the latter to be relatively honourable next to the physically attractive but rotten-to-the-core Osanai and Inui.

The science is a bit shaky in regards to the dream monitoring technology but I daresay the same could be said for the psychology; specialists in the field could no doubt find some plot holes but the technobabble is able to hold the narrative together, at least in Paprika‘s whacked-out universe. It may not stand up to scrutiny up close but the terminology is fun and convincing enough for the task at hand: namely immersing the reader in a vivid dreamworld.

So then, if you’ve already watched the film there are just enough surprises and interesting asides to make it worth your time (it made me appreciate what the movie accomplishes even more, actually), but if you haven’t I recommend you pick up the novel then check out how it’s brought to life by Kon’s vision afterwards. Someday I might actually be able to blog about one of his other movies again…