Anime You Should Be Watching: Ninja Scroll (Jūbē Ninpūchō)


“If you so want the company of devils, you’d better hurry back to hell, Gemma.” — Jubei

Ninja Scroll, the 1993 anime film directed by Yoshiaki Kawajiri, stands as a landmark in anime history for its groundbreaking animation, intense action, mature themes, and unique blending of historical fantasy with the supernatural. Its fluid, detailed hand-drawn animation vividly brings to life brutal sword fights and supernatural battles, while the richly textured 17th-century Japan setting immerses viewers in a dark, menacing world. This artistic achievement set a high benchmark, elevating anime’s global reputation as a cinematic art form beyond works like Akira.

The story follows Kibagami Jubei, a wandering mercenary ninja drawn into a plot involving the immortal villain Genma and the feared Eight Devils of Kimon. Though the plot remains straightforward—largely focused on Jubei’s confrontation with powerful enemies—it gains depth through morally ambiguous characters and mature themes of sacrifice, honor, and survival. A key emotional element is the relationship between Jubei and Kagero, a female poison ninja cursed to kill anyone who touches her, which sidesteps typical romance tropes and develops themes of vulnerability and resilience.

The voice acting, particularly in the English dub, is a significant highlight, delivering performances that imbue characters with seriousness and emotional nuance, broadening the film’s international appeal and cementing it as a gateway for adult animation in the West. While Ninja Scroll excels in action and atmosphere, it also courts controversy for its graphic violence and explicit sexual content. There is a notably disturbing sexual assault scene involving Kagero, which has long sparked discomfort and debate. However, it is important to clarify that while the film uses explicit sexual content to enhance its darker tone, it does not cross into hentai territory; the sexual content serves a narrative purpose rather than mere eroticism. This mature material intensifies the film’s psychological tension and power struggles, positioning it firmly within adult-oriented anime.

Sexual violence directed mostly at female characters has been a persistent source of controversy surrounding Ninja Scroll. While the sexual content is relatively tame compared to many contemporary non-hentai anime, its depiction of sexual assault and coercion has never lost its provocative edge. The character Kagero, despite being a formidable and dangerous figure, is victimized through sexual violence that many viewers and critics find disturbing. Scenes such as her being captured and violated by monstrous enemies contribute to an uneasy juxtaposition of empowerment and victimhood, with Kagero often used as a plot device to motivate male protagonists rather than as a fully autonomous character. This imbalance and the graphic nature of these depictions have led to censorship in some countries and sparked ongoing debates around the ethics of such content in adult media. Critics often argue that these portrayals risk glamorizing or exploiting sexual violence, while defenders contend that the shocking nature heightens the dark tone of the film’s world, reflecting its brutal and morally fraught universe. Nonetheless, these themes remain divisive, challenging viewers to grapple with how mature animation handles issues of gendered violence and trauma.

One of Ninja Scroll’s defining strengths lies in its animation style. The kinetic action sequences are not only meticulously choreographed but also executed with an extraordinary fluidity and dynamism that were revolutionary for the early 1990s. The hand-drawn fight scenes feature sweeping, graceful movements punctuated by sharply detailed strikes and counterattacks, bringing a visceral sense of speed and impact seldom achieved in other works of the period. This fluidity is complemented by innovative techniques like the use of deleter dot screens for shading and shadow effects, which add texture and depth without sacrificing motion smoothness.

The animation’s prowess extends beyond just the fight choreography. The film’s use of lighting and atmospheric effects creates a hauntingly dreamlike world that feels simultaneously realistic and mythical. Backgrounds are richly painted with a softness that evokes Impressionistic influences, enveloping characters in an environment that accentuates the eerie and supernatural tone. The balance between detailed character animation and these painterly settings builds a distinct visual identity that has aged gracefully over decades.

This combination of fluid, kinetic action and richly atmospheric artistry contributed significantly to Ninja Scroll being considered one of the modern classics of anime. It elevated expectations for what animated films could achieve in terms of dynamic movement and aesthetic sophistication. The influence of its animation style can be traced through numerous subsequent anime productions, as well as Western media inspired by anime’s visual storytelling techniques.

Ninja Scroll’s legacy is extensive and multifaceted. Its DNA can be seen clearly in later samurai-themed anime such as Samurai Champloo and Afro SamuraiSamurai Champloo echoes Ninja Scroll’s stylistic blending of Edo-period Japan with anachronistic influences—infusing hip-hop culture with samurai narratives—while maintaining intense, fluid sword fights and a mix of humor and gravitas. Afro Samurai shares its dark tone, violent action, and lone-protagonist vengeance quest, carrying forward the mood and narrative style originally forged by Ninja Scroll. Director Kawajiri’s subsequent works, including his segments in The Animatrix, further pursue this blend of hyper-realistic violence, dark fantasy, and mature storytelling. His visual style and thematic preoccupations continue to set standards for adult anime storytelling.

Beyond anime, Ninja Scroll substantially impacted Western filmmakers. Its dynamic animation and mature tone influenced the Wachowskis’ Matrix trilogy, particularly in its kinetic martial arts choreography and philosophical depth. This cross-cultural influence helped establish anime as a vital creative wellspring for global media, encouraging Hollywood to adopt similar stylistic and narrative innovations. The film’s success helped popularize ninja and samurai mythologies worldwide, inspiring Hollywood action films and series exploring similar themes.

In conclusion, Ninja Scroll is a seminal work blending technical brilliance, compelling voice performances, stark mature themes, and memorable characters. Its relatively simple yet focused plot allows intense action and emotional depth to shine. While its graphic sexual content remains controversial, especially due to its depiction of sexual violence toward women, this aspect underscores the dark world the film portrays rather than serving gratuitous ends. Its influence spans subsequent anime like Samurai Champloo and Afro Samurai and extends into Western filmmaking, confirming Ninja Scroll’s importance as a groundbreaking and enduring classic that shaped adult animation globally.

Anime You Should Be Watching (Horror Edition): Perfect Blue (dir. by Satoshi Kon)


Satoshi Kon’s 1998 psychological thriller Perfect Blue remains a striking and influential work nearly three decades after its release. Despite being an animated film, it evokes the unsettling style and tension found in the classic Italian giallo thrillers of the 1970s and ’80s—films by directors like Dario Argento and Mario Bava—and melds them admirably with elements of 1970s Eurotrash exploitation and arthouse psychological thriller reminiscent of Brian De Palma. Kon’s debut feature is a haunting exploration of fractured identity, blending show-business satire, Hitchcockian suspense, and surreal nightmare imagery into a profoundly relevant story in today’s age of parasocial fandom and digital voyeurism.

The film centers on Mima Kirigoe, a member of the bubblegum J-Pop group “CHAM!” who decides to leave the idol world to pursue a career in serious acting. This choice, rooted in her desire for personal growth and artistic expression, sets off devastating consequences. For her managers and many fans, Mima’s break from the manufactured idol persona is viewed as betrayal—a dissolution of a carefully crafted image designed for maximum market appeal. The pristine, innocent figure worshipped by fans begins to crumble, replaced by the complicated reality of adulthood and the harsh glare of fame.

To fully grasp the horror underpinning Perfect Blue, it’s important to understand the nature of Japanese idol culture. These idols are not merely singers or performers—they are highly managed brands. Every lyric, outfit, choreographed move, and public appearance is tightly controlled to project purity and accessibility. This system bears close resemblance to the meticulously produced Western pop acts of the late 1990s and early 2000s like Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys. Both rely on constructing polished, artificial personas that maximize commercial appeal, often at the expense of genuine selfhood. When an idol deviates from this script, it frequently provokes obsession, confusion, and even violent reactions from a subset of fans unable to reconcile the constructed image with evolving reality.

Mima’s transition from ingénue pop star to serious actress thrusts her into an intense psychological crucible. Her first major acting role requires her to perform a deeply disturbing rape scene, one that blurs lines between professional obligation and personal violation. Kon lingers on Mima’s shocked expression—a powerful mask of confusion and repressed trauma. This sequence sets the tone for the film: a world where performance, identity, and exploitation intertwine irrevocably, creating a landscape where self and roles imposed by society become indistinguishable.

As Mima’s public persona shifts, darker forces emerge. An eerie fan website titled “Mima’s Room” chronicles her life with disturbing accuracy but is clearly authored by an unknown party. Even more threatening is an obsessed fan fixated on the idol version of Mima, stalking her and insisting that the “real” Mima no longer exists. This duality—between reality and imitation, self and construct—becomes the film’s thematic centerpiece. The narrative loops and fractures, cutting between dreams, televised drama, and supposed reality until neither Mima nor the viewer can be sure what is authentic. This masterful ambiguity immerses us in the protagonist’s psychological collapse.

The horror in Perfect Blue operates on two deeply intertwined levels. First, it is a psychological portrait of a young woman’s unraveling, echoing themes explored in Roman Polanski’s Repulsion and Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan—films focused on fragile female psyches under immense pressure. While Aronofsky has publicly denied that Black Swan was directly inspired by Perfect Blue, the similarities in theme and specific visual motifs suggest otherwise. Both films explore the disintegration of identity in a young woman caught between innocence and adult roles, with dreamlike, unsettling sequences blurring reality and hallucination. The parallels in their portrayal of psychological breakdown, stalking, and the pressure of performance are striking, though Aronofsky’s work is set in the world of ballet rather than pop music and acting.

Second, Perfect Blue channels the lush, stylized dread characteristic of giallo cinema. Kon borrows Argento’s fascination with voyeuristic camera angles, saturated color palettes, and the interplay of beauty and violence. Like Argento’s heroines trapped in a hall of mirrors, Mima finds herself caught in a labyrinth where surreal horror becomes tangible and murder might be just another staged act in a disturbing performance.

Yet unlike Suspiria’s occult grotesques, Kon’s horror resides not in supernatural forces but within the mind and media itself. Animation becomes a revelatory choice—rather than softening violence, it frees Kon from physical constraints, allowing reality to fracture visually with startling fluidity. Identities shift from frame to frame, reflections move independently of their sources, and timelines collapse and fragment like psychic glitches. The medium’s flexibility intensifies the film’s psychological disorientation, blurring fact and fantasy in ways live-action cinema would struggle to capture so viscerally.

Kon’s prescient understanding of media obsession resonates more strongly than ever today. Long before social media reshaped how identity is constructed and perceived, Perfect Blue envisioned the internet as a distorting mirror that erases the line between self and performance. The “Mima’s Room” website serves both as diary and prison—a disturbing precursor to the carefully curated digital personas that dominate social media platforms now. As Mima reads falsified diary entries that resemble her life more “truthfully” than her own memory, she grows alienated from reality. The omnipresent gaze of fans, stalkers, and producers merges into an oppressive force she cannot escape.

This taps into a modern phenomenon: parasocial relationships. These one-sided emotional bonds fans develop with celebrities or fictional characters foster a dangerous illusion of intimacy and knowledge, often masking boundaries between admiration and entitlement. In Perfect Blue, the deranged fan believes he “knows” Mima in a way that justifies controlling her, even committing violence to preserve the image he idolizes. This mirrors the darker side of parasocial dynamics today, where fans demand absolute authenticity or control over public figures’ identities, sometimes leading to harassment or stalking. Kon’s film foreshadows how internet culture can exacerbate these fragile boundaries, blurring realities and fueling destructive obsession.

The film’s editing amplifies this psychological suffocation. Kon intercuts scenes from Mima’s TV drama—ironically titled Double Bind—with moments from her “real” life until one blurs imperceptibly into the other. Viewers are drawn deeper into uncertainty: are we witnessing actual events, staged fiction, or yet another deceptive layer? This deliberate manipulation creates unease without relying on cheap jump scares or graphic violence. The horror is existential—losing trust not only in others but in one’s own mind.

This theme has become exponentially more relevant with the rise of social media influencers and online streaming personalities. Today, countless individuals cultivate personal brands that blend their private lives with public personas online, often with blurred or deliberately ambiguous boundaries. The intense fan interaction, constant scrutiny, and expectation of accessibility echo the pressures Mima faces. As social media blurs the line between “real” self and online performance, the risks of losing grip on one’s identity—as Mima does—feel more immediate and widespread than ever.

It is extraordinary that Perfect Blue was Kon’s first feature film. His command of cinematic language is masterful—harnessing animation as a means to probe psychological depths rather than as mere escapism. His subsequent works—Millennium ActressTokyo GodfathersPaprika—build on themes of identity, memory, and the fluid borders of reality, but Perfect Blue remains his rawest and most unsettling contribution. His untimely death from pancreatic cancer in 2010 at just 46 left the film community mourning a visionary whose full promise was tragically unfulfilled.

One of Perfect Blue’s greatest achievements is rejecting outsider stereotypes about anime. It is neither childish fantasy nor gratuitous erotica, though it fearlessly explores sexual anxiety, trauma, and performance under intense scrutiny. Kon’s film proves that animation can tackle mature themes—mental illness, societal pressure, gender identity—with subtlety and emotional gravitas usually reserved for live-action cinema. It challenges the misinformed Western association of adult anime with “hentai,” affirming animation’s capacity as a serious art form.

Kon’s film also critiques fandom’s darker impulses, asking difficult questions about ownership and identity. How much of a celebrity’s life belongs to the public? How much of one’s self must be sacrificed under the weight of expectation? In today’s hyperconnected online world, Kon’s portrayal of obsessive fans demanding idealized idols is uncannily relevant and urgent.

Ultimately, Perfect Blue transcends genre and era. It is not merely a psychological thriller or celebrity critique but a mirror held to an increasingly performative world. Long before social media dissolved the lines between private and public selves, Kon foresaw how image can consume reality. The result is a masterful fusion of paranoia, empathy, and stunning visual style—a giallo-inspired fever dream painted in blood-red and neon blue. For animation, it remains a landmark in artistic maturity; for cinema as a whole, it stands as one of the most chilling and insightful portraits of fame’s corrosive gaze and the dark side of parasocial obsession.