Yesterday afternoon, reports began trickling in via Twitter that Japanese anime director Satoshi Kon passed away. To some of us—those in a kind of reflexive denial from the shaky credibility of news stories surfacing on Twitter—this could have been a rumor, but once it became clear that the source of the report was Gainax producer Yasuhiro Takeda’s Twitter account, Kon’s passing started to look more like a tragic reality.
An earlier report from MADHOUSE founder Masao Maruyama (which didn’t specify the director by name), and later, word from Otakon chair Jim Vowles (who wrote an eloquent note for the Otakon forum) confirmed this sad truth. Satoshi Kon passed away on August 23rd at the age of 47. The cause, at this time, is unknown, but some sources suggest it was cancer.
Kon was an ambitious artist in a genre that has gradually been losing its great talents. His death inevitably recalls the passing of another anime luminary: Studio Ghibli’s Yoshifumi Kondō (“Whisper of the Heart”). Kondō passed away in 1998 of an aneurysm; he was also 47, and his premature death was so shocking (attributed to fatigue from work) that some speculated it may have been the catalyst for Studio Ghibli head Hayao Miyazaki (“Spirited Away”) going into early retirement that same year (which obviously didn’t stick).
Kon was arguably an even more valued talent; if Miyazaki and Co. have earned a loving audience for their all-ages entertainment, Kon was a more niche artist, his work geared mostly toward adults. In contrast to the winning optimism of the Ghibli brand, Kon chose more emotionally complex material. The themes of his filmography are distinctly philosophical and psychological, which has always encouraged parallels (in this writer’s mind) to select works of David Lynch.
Two features and one TV series enforce this. Kon’s brash 1998 debut, “Perfect Blue,” mixes De Palma-esque genre traits with a Lynchian interest in the duality of the self (and though it predates it by a good three or four years, there are similarities to Lynch’s “Mulholland Dr.”). Kon’s second feature, “Millennium Actress,” expanded on the themes of his first by transforming the reminiscences of an aged actress into an impressionistic reverie through decades of personal, historical, and cinematic memory, causing the LA Times’ Kenneth Turan to memorably describe it as “a rumination on the place movies have in our personal and collective subconscious.” Lastly, the series “Paranoia Agent” morphs from a fairly routine detective procedural into something darker (aligning it vaguely with Lynch’s seminal “Twin Peaks”).
Of course many will know Kon best for 2007’s “Paprika,” his most successful film in the US. Arguably Kon’s most lucid evocation of dreams and duality, the film looks particularly impressive held up to more rigid “dreamworld” narratives like Christopher Nolan’s “Inception.” It may not be Kon’s best film—that title would have to be bestowed on his “Millennium Actress”—but it is the film that boils his aesthetic and thematic interests to their essence, enlivening even the most cliched elements of Japanese anime (bubbly heroines, indulgent techno-babble) with vibrant visuals and engaging ideas.
At the time of his death, Kon was working on his fifth feature, “The Dream Machine” (considered for our ‘Most Anticipated‘ feature this year, but left off as it seemed a long shot, even for that list), which he first began talking up in interviews throughout 2008, at one point describing it as a “road movie for robots.” It’s unclear what state that film is in, or if we’ll ever see any footage from it.
What is clear is that Kon’s untimely death has ignited interest in his work from many who had only heard of him in passing, or hadn’t heard of him at all. While it’s hard to see any kind of silver lining in the death of such a singular artist, especially one taken from us in his prime, the attention this will bring Kon’s body of work does bring us comfort. — Sam C. Mac
Update: When you pay tribute to an artist by focusing only on the work they left behind, the person responsible for that work, the nuances of the life they led and people whose lives they touched, can get overshadowed. What’s emmerged in the last few days then paints a more vital portrait of this man than anything we’ve written.
The cause of Kon’s death has now been confirmed as pancreatic cancer, which he was diagnosed with in may of this year. Also, a long and immensely moving letter has surfaced that Kon wrote in his last days, detailing the strains his impending death put on his marriage, his friendships, his relationships to family members both close to him and those he hasn’t seen for longer than he’d like.
In short, the letter finds a man preparing for his death by dealing with all the very real problems that present themselves, not just the overwhelming sadness but the practicalites he knows his love ones will have to face. It’s an essential read for anyone who called themselves a fan, but also for anyone interested in a very human account of life’s last moments.