spoilers ahead

Millennium Actress is a spellbinding film. Satoshi Kon’s second cinematic masterpiece is a harrowing drama that plays with reality and fiction to tell an intricate tale full of powerful twists and turns. In many ways, it’s like a novel, sucking us into their world and forcing us to observe. More than that, it gives us the power to interact with the story in some way, as our interactions both suck us in further and become our only link to reality.

The film features a former star, Chiyoko Fujiwara, and her two interviewers, Genya Tachibana and Kyouji Ida. As they sit down and prepare for filming, our leading lady invites us and these two men into a life story so mesmerizing it takes on a life of its own, blending and camouflaging reality with the eight fictions that embodied her life as she starred in them. We along with these men are mere witnesses to the tale that unravels before us, as everyone is suddenly thrown from her true story to her work and back again, and both life and art begin to imitate one another. Everyone enveloped in her story act in different ways. Genya enacts some of the roles with her, fully immersing himself in her films as both an avid fan and loyal crew member of her works. Kyouji reacts with bewilderment, often taking shots at his superior and cohort, and remarking on the absurd situations behind his camera. The former becomes the immerser, the latter becomes the spectator. We, the audience, become both. We witness and take part in every scene, even those they only hear instead of enter. At the same time, there are moments where only they can interact with her, namely when an outside force disrupts her, including her own vulnerability.

You see, she is dying. On top of that, she is mournful. Her life and stardom were built on a promise that could never come true. An injured man showed her a key, one she would bestow upon herself after having found it in the ground soon after. The man lived, for a time, but she would never see him again. All he left behind are a key and a painting, the latter of which she only knew about years later. Not even a glimpse at his face was left for her. Her career, which was ever so reminiscent of the life she led as a result, was predicated on a childlike fantasy, one where she would meet him again and proclaim her love for him. Only late in life, divorced from industry, does she recognize this. It wasn't the man's death that taught her this, for the man who killed him told the person who would interview her, and he kept it a secret until the very end. Instead, it was reality that did this to her. The old, spiritual hag that cursed her to wander in one of her roles, and the excitement and questioning from other children, were what killed the child that propelled her through the industry for so long. The old and jealous misled her constantly, and the young teased her just as much. After eight movies, once both had gotten to her, she knew she was done. Perhaps the films she starred in embodied her life too well.

It isn't just the narrative that pulls us into this picture. Satoshi Kon's masterful cinematography and the powerful, blistering chaos he instructed the team at Studio Madhouse to emphasize in every scene immersed us even further. Minor details add a sense of urgency to every scene, and hint at what's truly going on, creating a tremendous sense of rewatch value. Considering the film's gorgeous use of sepia tone in its backstory, which not only evolves with the narrative, but was actually done manually, add further layers to this rich tale. Susumu Hirasawa's electrifying score added further weight to this sense of depth and rewatcability, and I can't even begin to do either of these two factors enough justice. Every single one of these factors intersects into this whirlwind spinning us and Chiyoko's interviewers around, forcing us to act and react upon every new twist and turn thrown our way. It's immersion as powerful and intricate as the tale itself. Only towards the end does our puzzle fully reveal itself. Only at the end do we know what happened at the final scene of Chiyoko's last film, one that Genya is forced to pause and rewind so he can meet her and learn of her life's story. Only then does Chiyoko's life end, understanding that the fantasy that kickstarted and embodied her life didn't really matter after all. The physical and metaphorical key was only there to unlock her purpose, not some ending where she and her love lived happily ever after.

Written and Edited by: CodeBlazeFate
Proofread by: Peregrine