I remember Kon Satoshi
The artist of the “dangerous and beautiful” and the demonic force
A while ago when news reached me that the manga artist Nakamura Asumiko has stopped working due to reasons of health, I was going to write a post on what I call the “demonic force” among artists. You just know that “demonic force” when you see it. Audrey Beardsley had it. Kusumoto Maki had it. Fujiwara Kaoru had it. I am certain that Nakamura Asumiko also has it.
For one reason or other, all of these artists had a creative existence as brief as the morning dew – they created little gems that hint at greater masterpieces to come, and then disappeared from the scene as suddenly as they had entered it, never to return. The “demonic force” I speak of is not the source of humour or creativity in general that you see in other manga artists of wider appeal – it is a source of that rare combination of the dangerous and beautiful, and it is like Signal No.10 typhoon that blows through a wooden hut on the beach that is the human artist.
And then there are artists who give you the impression that they will live to see a creative old age – and Kon Satoshi was one of them. I honestly expected him to be still producing new anime that I can take my grandchildren to see in the far, far future. When news of his death reached my iPhone’s RSS reader this Thursday – it was just too much for my mental bandwidth to deal with.
I remember Kon Satoshi
The first work of Kon Satoshi I came across was Millennium Actress. I remember clearly that it was an idle summer day when I was still a university student. Millennium Actress, as you know, was about the life of an actress (Fujiwara Chiyoko) who unwittingly began her career in films by crossing an ocean to chase after the Man with the Key (鍵の君), whom she had only met once. That summer, I too had just returned from nightmarish phase of my life where I crossed an ocean to chase after a man, but that is where the similarity ends. (He had zero impact on my career choice for one thing – I think he would be horrified to learn that I turned out to be a banker out of all things.)
Anyway, so I was at a video store in my neighbourhood browsing around the DVD section, actively avoiding anything tear-jerking as I had cried more than my fair share in my young life by then. Millennium Actress was packaged like a smart sci-fi story, so I picked it up.
And how wrong was I. I cried like the Niagara Falls.
That was the beginning of my acquaintance with the works of Kon Satoshi.
Anticipation of or longing for something is better than its realization or fulfillment
Among other things, Kon Satoshi was the artist who drilled into me the aesthetic idea that anticipation of or longing for something is better than its realization or fulfillment.
So it seems fitting that I shall always remember him in this spirit. Many years later from now, I will probably be wondering aloud on this blog how this or that this novel would be perfect adaptation material for Kon Satoshi. In short, I will be longing for works of Kon Satoshi that will never be, and yet feel certain that this longing is better than actually seeing his new films.
After all, that is the very idea that runs throughout Millennium Actress, and it is wonderfully captured in a simple dialogue between the Man with the Key and Chiyoko in the film:
「満月。」
「満月は明日だな。でも僕はこの時のつきが一番好きだ。満月なら、次の日からかけってしまう。１４日の月には、まだ明日がある、明日という希望が。」
(“The full moon.”
“The full moon comes tomorrow. But I like the moon at this time best. The full moon begins the wane from the next day, but there is a tomorrow to the moon on the fourteenth. The hope that is tomorrow.”)
Throughout her life, Chiyoko chases after a man whose name she does not know and whose face she has gradually come to forget as she ages. The only thing she knows about him is that he is a painter wanted by the secret police. In their brief time together, he gives her a key to a suitcase which is said to hold something that is most “important”. She asks him to wait till tomorrow (ie. the full moon) to tell her what that “important” thing is. But of course, before they get a chance to meet again, he already has to run off because the police has managed to traced his whereabouts. Chiyoko never sees him again.
Chiyoko in her cinematic persona(s) is likewise always chasing after a man. I would like to call that man her animus. He is like a spearhead that stirs her to activity – a spirit that gives her direction and passion in her art. Whoever the Man with the Key may have been, over the years he has become more of a soul-image rather than a real person in Chiyoko’s psyche. Her art blossoms because of that soul-image.
Later in her life, Chiyoko comes to understand what that “important” thing is. I believe the “important” thing is not “love” per se, but the idea that it is better “to long for something” than “finally possessing what you long for”. As Chiyoko says at the end of the film:
だって、あたし、あの人を追いかけるのがあたしは好きなんだもん。
After all, it is the chasing after him that I really love.
When I saw the title “Satoshi Kon passes away”, I just stared. I couldn’t believe it. How could somebody as amazing as him just pass away?
It seems like many men in the anime industry die young from cancer.
On another note, is the new manga from Ikuhara Kunihiko still going? I really hope Nakamura Asumiko’s health(?) improves.
When I first laid eyes on Nakamura Asumiko’s artwork, I just had a gut feeling that her talent is like a fragile fruit growing on an unhealthy branch that could drop to the ground with little prior notice. The creative peak of an artist of that stamp is just short-lived as that. It’s freaky how history repeats itself unerringly, time after time.
I think I will not count on seeing Nokemono to Hanayome being continued.
I met this news with incredulity too, followed by the realisation that one of my favourite directors won’t be making any more films. Then I saw the fan reaction, which made me feel slightly better. As great a loss as it is to us, the blog posts and other comments show that he has at least earned the admiration and recognition he deserved. Then there was that farewell letter posted up, which hammered home the human loss of his passing. I shed a manly tear at that point.
Amidst the conversations about his place in the Industry, I also realised that although there are other great filmmakers around today, he was a unique. A lot of what makes a good director can come from experience and effort, but that vague concept of ‘genius’ or ‘inborn talent’ cannot be taught; it can only be nurtured. Kon showed a skill at filmmaking from his first attempt at directing; he was a natural and is such irreplaceable. Even so, I hope that up-and-coming directors and writers, who have unique raw talent and potential for genius of their own, will be inspired by him to do things their own way. Kon followed his own vision and spoke in his own artistic voice; we need more people like him.
Millennium Actress is my favourite of his; I’m not saying it’s his best overall, but it has a wonderful, wistful sentimental streak. That quote about the moon, and Chiyoko’s closing lines, summed it up really. Although she never attained that goal in life of meeting the nameless man, it was the driving force behind everything she did; I suspect she felt lucky in that she had a long and eventful life that was propelled by a force so pure and powerful.
Kon left us too soon, but he left behind some wonderful things that made him one of the greats. Nothing can bring him back or lessen the feeling of loss among his family and friends, but the least we can do is remember and continue to appreciate what he did.
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I thought I’d see Kon to keep producing gems like Miyazaki, certainly not one to share same fate as those with ‘demonic forces’.
That last dialogue really perfectly represents that notion, and the imagery of a moon ‘becoming’ full, not actually full, is beautiful, as also later summed up by Chiyoko’s “The part I really loved, was chasing him”.
Martin:
Yes, Kon was certainly an artist with a Voice.
And in case any of you have not thought of this already, it may be a good idea to use softwares like Calibre to save a copy of his website(s) to your hard drive for memory’s sake. You never know for how long they will maintain those sites after his death.
By the way, the stop-motion animator Kawamoto Kihachiro (川本喜八郎) also died at the age of 85 last week.
gaguri:
Yes, I too was expecting him to be just one of those figures who stick around forever like Miyazaki Hayao.
When I first saw his death announcement accidentally by a subscription in ‘the short of the week’ I shed bitter tears. Even after weeks now I can’t really accept it. I don’t want to. The sadness I felt hanged around me for some time. It might sound too much, but I really felt like I lost someone really loved. He had so much to give…So unfair :( And he must have been such a good person. Miyazaki has gotten so annoying lately with some statements of his…
I’ll definately make a post about him. I’m always postponing, because I really don’t know what to write about this genius. And in big blogs haven’t seen much for his death :(
About Millenium Actress now -I saw it pretty recently. The first I saw and utterly loved was Tokyo Godfathers. MA had really interesting mingling of reality and memories. Kon-san was such a master of turning the insides out, letting the contents of mind gush into reality. But for the same reason you adored this movie, I felt akward with it. You’ve mentioned before in earlier posts that Asians are very font of such kind of loves- of unrequited. Chiyoko’s love resembled one. And although few years ago I’d say how sweet and romantic that is, now I’ve changed ideas. I don’t want to insult you or anyone out there, but I find it a bit absurd and sometimes unhealthy…one shouldn’t stick to the past and seek it in the future. Life goes on. And happiness can come to fulfillment. This happiness might not last long, but I still find it better to experience it and cherish it than linger on a possibility.
You mention in your post about Tatami Galaxy that one’s life is limited by the impossibilities. My humble opinion is that sometimes we must accept what is impossible and live on. Hope sure is a positive feeling and a good motivation, but it can be the source of continual sadness as well. And to love being sad…isn’t it a bit masochistic?
My point of view is most probably influenced by my distance relationship. Surely I get happy by making plans of meeting my darling and of course I get a bit disappointed when I don’t make reality each one of them, but I’m pretty sure that I love being with him and I’m the most happy when we are together. Not apart waiting to reunite.
And I think the same about the could-be films of Kon-sensei. I can’t really imagine me enjoying less a realised film than the idea. Especially when we talk about such geniouses. I’m so gonna miss him.
ayame:
Er… I am sorry but I think I have to stand to clarify that I never said anything like “Asians are very font of such kind of loves- of unrequited [sic]“. I think you may have misinterpreted my meaning.
Whoops…still making some grammatical/syntactical errors in english- after all English isn’t my mother language.
I think it was on your old blog…I can’t remember on what kind of post exactly, yet I faintly remember something like idolisation of unrequited or unspoken love by the Chinese (?)
Still, I might just be wrong. If that’s the case I apologise.