You can liken the odds of finding good anime to the art of dumpster diving. Most of the time you're going to find used condoms, diapers, half-eaten pasta, a Big Wheels that's missing both back tires, bandaids, rain-rusted patio furniture and a denim button-up shirt with crusty ketchup stains. There are rare occasions, however, when you'll make a great discovery, like a unopened set of decorative Lion King mugs or a pair of hot teal leather pants. For all the overblown contrivances of the form, there are still directors out there, such as Satoshi Kon, who put forth the message that, yes, anime can be serious, and, yes, it can tell an engaging story that is unique to it's craft.
Kon's Perfect Blue is considered to be a prime example of serious, adult-oriented anime - an assessment I definitely agree with. It still has the stylistic hallmarks of being strange, scatter-shot and epileptic, but it uses these elements in a very effective and mature fashion. Following Mima, a beloved Japanese pop idol that trashes her career in favor of becoming an actress, the film details the pitfalls of zealous fans and disassociation from one persona to another. The narrative is squeezed into a carousel of surreal transitions and abrupt visual U-turns, so at any moment you're feeling confident and caught up on what's happening, the next you're completely thrown for a loop. This movie probably set the world-record for most "randomly waking up after a traumatic experience that may or may not have really happened" scenes in the history of cinema.
I'll admit that I wasn't initially impressed with the quality of the animation. Especially at the beginning of the film, there seemed to be a lot of heavy lines and blocky colors, the characters would move and speak in that herky-jerk Pokemon fashion, where it's essentially just to two of the same frames repeated over and over. Luckily, Kon must have gotten a boost to his budget during production, because Perfect Blue develops into an expressive and fluid psychological nightmare. The rich gradient tones of Mima's merging realities and fantasies provide a kind of layer-cake effect, sitting heavy on top of the film's totally bizarre structure and the grotesque situations that Mima finds herself in.
That's the other great thing about Perfect Blue. It doesn't pull any punches. Kon is sending a bright, shiny laser beam of criticism (and a bit of cheek, too) against the lack of control in fame. Mima constantly finds herself in situations where she lacks control over her life and career - her most devoted fan posing as Mima on a fake blog, her agents casting her in increasingly degrading roles - Mima is living her life vicariously through the decisions of those around her.
The particularly effective rape sequence, in which Mima is being fake-raped in a strip club scene for a movie, Kon likens the intrusive spectacle to a facsimile of the emotional deterioration and powerlessness involved in actual rape. Mima finds herself surrounded by unknown men, strobes lights beating red down upon her. Her clothes are torn off and then suddenly, the director yells, "cut!" and the man on top of her, leans down and says, "I'm really sorry about this, miss". Kon also suggests a kind of sadistic pleasure from all the attention Mima is given, as the shooting continues, she fantasizes about the audiences at her pop concerts.
It's that kind of tempered perception that makes Perfect Blue both engaging and insane. Since the story elements feed so directly into the wild editing and visual ephemera, Kon is free to slather all kinds of meta-fiction in our faces and have it feel satisfying each and every time. This should not be a surprise, considering the man's other esteemed credentials, such as Tokyo Godfathers and Paprika. So, all in all, if you're looking for a surreal and stylish thriller with a clear-headed, cautionary message about the ravages of fame, you can't go wrong with Perfect Blue.
