This Week in Anime

Revisiting The Timeless Millennium Actress

Nicky
Ah yes, now everyone will watch me cry over moving screen pictures for realsies! The future is powerful.

Despite his tragically short-lived career as a director, Kon remains one of the greatest filmmakers ever to grace the world of anime. We're lucky to live in a time where his few movies are still remembered, celebrated, and available, and I hope we keep it that way. Millennium Actress, a movie about movies, is a perfect example of what makes Kon's approach to anime special and why some may consider it to be the most incredible work of a man with a 0-miss record.

Its narrative is also ostensibly about the passage of time and how movies, whether it's the period of the setting, the time they were made, or the times that we experience them, are both free and rooted in various points of time. So while we're not quite hurdling there yet, I always consider it an appropriate movie to watch around the new year. Though, do be sure to watch Tokyo Godfathers for your proper dose X-mas first!

Well, good human stories are indeed eternal. As an animated film, the characters in Kon's film might only be drawings. Still, they've always been animated in a way emphasizing both realism and expression, making them feel more real than any flesh-and-blood actor could capture. These two bystanders, a Television interviewer and his cameraman on a mission to shoot a documentary about a now-bankrupt landmark movie studio and its once-star actress, serve as the framing of which we view the life and career of Chiyoko Fujiwara.

Its intentionally layered and freeform narrative where details collage into one picture is also why this film deserves multiple viewings. It hasn't been nearly as long for me as it has for Steve since I first watched this, but there are new parts I picked up on and others I have yet to piece together. However, even if you're not one for puzzle-solving, it's still enjoyable every time. Especially if you watch with someone else who might see something different. The blurred nature is guaranteed to make each viewing feel unique.

The hope and optimism Millennium Actress has towards life and filmmaking is infectious; you can see a lot of Kon's appreciation towards the medium as we cycle through each film. Chiyoko has had an extensive range of roles, all in pursuit of chasing a runaway revolutionary she happened to meet as a teenager. Even though everyone tells her it's a hopeless endeavor, she never gives up. She acts her way out through political dramas and period films, and she survives natural disasters and wars while twists of fate and ancient curses spit in her face. All for a promise with someone she barely met at an early point in her life.

And similar to how Kurosawa saw distinct sociological parallels with Scotland portrayed in Shakespeare's Macbeth and Middle Ages Japan that viewers could take lessons from, Millennium Actress intentionally parallels all its stories in a way that reflects how the outer world impacts Chiyoko's life. Japan's history is no stranger to war and unrest, but these stories equally reflect her desire to go beyond her role as a woman and how restrictive that's always been, forcing her to find power and agency.

I also want to mention some elements I picked up this time: the film's connection to Buddhism and why this is called Millennium Actress, despite Chiyoko only acting within the 20th century. During the homage to Throne of Blood, the princess is cursed by an old witch, as Steve posted above. However, the witch becomes one of the elements that transcends between films, and even appears outside of them as Chiyoko envisions her several times during her most disastrous life moments.

So how does this connect to Buddhism? Well, it's said that desire is the root of life's suffering. It can be argued that much of Chiyoko's misfortune is caused by her endless pursuit. Her curse is to bear a fire that cannot be quenched. She's attached to the idea of someone, so she cannot move on from it. While the witch represents many of Chiyoko's anxieties, if we consider this curse true, her roles become more than simple fiction or abstract retellings but also reincarnations, a desire spanning not just from one life but across multiple.

This also makes the inclusion of interviewer and fanboy Genya's casting himself in roles to twist the narrative in favorable ways more interesting. He's following Chiyoko just as she follows someone else. Though he feels the most embellished out of all of the repeating characters, he's still destined always to play a bit part. I don't mind because it's saying something about how viewers want to feel involved in the stories we see and how what we consider a "good story" requires twists to differentiate what would otherwise be regarded as a tragic reality.

It also helps that we discover he is a much bigger piece in this than he gives off but also knows his place; he recognizes that his desire and admiration are selfish and unachievable. And yet, his actions are altruistic, noble, and born of faith that we don't see from other characters. Without viewing Chiyoko through him, the audience loses much of the perspective, like how a director isn't always an active leader of a story but rather a passive mediator for the audience. It's not a director's or a storyteller's job to create life but to observe and portray it.

It's also why he gets so mad whenever Otaki, an actual director, is on-screen. He is the person who actively involves himself with Chiyoko and arrogantly tries to mess with her story out of his self-interest.

It also says how little we know other people until we have time to reflect on it. When you're close-up with events, everyone else feels like they're playing a part. After Chiyoko faces several instances of health failure throughout the interview, she expresses her desire to continue reminiscing as it's the only opportunity she has left to pull back the camera, so to speak.

I'd also like to point out another Buddhist connection here; upon introducing himself, Genya's card says he's employed by studio LOTUS, like the flower Chiyoko hosts in her garden. The old lady responds by prompting Genya about their symbolism. In Buddhism, the lotus in full bloom represents the highest point of spiritual enlightenment after shedding all forms of attachment. As we send Chiyoko off to her final destination, the launch pad looks very much like a lotus opening on a lily pad.

With the wrong framing, Chiyoko's life could easily be considered a tragedy, a woman cursed with no choice but to doggedly spend her life chasing after something she could never obtain, but that was never how she saw it. Her desire was always what kept her living; it made her strong. Her story serves as a chronicle of her journey. Is it not enough to pursue happiness regardless of whether we are certain that we can obtain it? Is it foolish to hope that people will meet again, whether it's in this life or the next? I'll leave you all to answer that.

Meanwhile, something is haunting about this film. Kon died of pancreatic cancer in 2010 after only directing four films. While he made several after the release of Millennium Actress, along with some non-film projects, this film is so personal it's hard not to read it as a statement about his life. I could easily frame this as a tragedy, but I won't. Like our heroine, Satoshi Kon's films are proof of his life and passion. Sadly, he never got to achieve more, but what we have left are gifts.

Even now, it's impressive how his works stand the test of time and serve as little artifacts of Kon's existence. Even when he's gone, it's still possible to gaze upon them and feel hopeful about a promise that "This isn't the end." Even if the audience knows how the story ends, what matters most is how you tell it.

I'm off to ponder for the rest of the year. I'll see you in the next life, folks!