The music of Daft Punk has always gelled beautifully with cinema. As early as the Spike Jonze directed video for their debut single “Da Funk” – a surreal but melancholy tale about an anthropomorphic dog wandering through the moonlit streets of New York, solidifying their music as the eternal soundtrack for nocturnal meditations – the electronic duo exhibited a mastery of visual iconography unlike anyone else. Their continually evolving sound and perchance for experimentation resulted in some of the most imaginative videos of their era, but it’s clear that Daft Punk’s obsession with film could not be contained to such minor excursions. Some of these flirtations were better than others – their directorial debut Electroma produced an honorable (if not altogether successful) result, while their tremendous work composing the soundtrack for Tron: Legacy elevated a potentially middling watch into an enthralling exercise in audio-visual synergy – but it was in 2003 that they achieved their greatest cinematic triumph with the awkwardly titled (but nevertheless mesmerizing) anime musical Interstella 5555: The 5tory of the 5ecret 5tar 5ystem.

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‘Interstella 5555’ Is the Anime Follow-up to Daft Punk’s Discovery

Interstella 5555 was intended to serve as a visual companion to their acclaimed 2001 album Discovery. While Daft Punk had already found much success following the worldwide hit of Homework, their debut album, it was Discovery that propelled them to the forefront of electronic music. Overnight songs like “One More Time” and “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” became club sensations, carried by a playful and uplifting energy that made them the perfect soundscape for late-night euphoria. Its reputation as one of the most influential albums of the 21st century is unquestionable, and while Daft Punk produced plenty of excellent music in the succeeding years (how could anyone forget the most infectious earworm to have ever graced music, “Get Lucky”), it’s hard to argue with the overwhelming consensus that Discovery represents the duo at their peak.

Discovery was released in March 2001, but despite ushering in a whole new generation of Daft Punk fans eager to see what their two favorite childhood friends who had been reconstructed as robots following an explosion at their recording studio (if their press releases were to be believed, that is), it took two years for Daft Punk to produce a follow-up – the aforementioned Interstella 5555. In theory, it was an odd next step. Any other musician would have taken their newfound (and potentially quite temporary) freedom and directed it straight at their next album, but Daft Punk used that time to instead craft a 65-minute musical centered around their breakthrough album. A more cynical person would dismiss it as just an egotistically motivated victory lap (or a feature-length music video that was two years late to the party), but denigrating Interstella 5555 as such is doing a great disservice to one of the finest modern examples of pure cinema. If the digital revolution had struck the silent era, this would be the result – a futuristic symphony that succeeds in visualizing and expanding upon the Discovery album without forgetting its own identity. Far from being a film for Daft Punk fans only, Interstella 5555 has plenty to offer for cinephiles everywhere.

‘Interstella 5555’ Has No Dialogue & Minimal Sound Effects

If you’re looking for a quick summation of Interstella 5555, then describing it as the celestial lovechild of Disney’s Fantasia and Pink Floyd’s The Wall should just about do the job. The film opens in the far reaches of the universe where an intergalactic band (who consist entirely of blue-skinned humanoids) are playing to a packed audience. Their performance looks set to bring the house down – quite literally, in fact, since a military force (under the orders of the delightfully evil Earl de Darkwood) arrives to kidnap the band and ship them to Earth. The band is subjected to heinous experiments that transforms them into mindless slaves ready for exploitation – exactly what Darkwood has in store for them. Soon after they’re reintroduced to the world as The Crescendolls, a “new” band ready to take the world by storm, all the while Darkwood (posing as their manager) soaks up the ever-increasing financial reward. Thankfully a space pilot called Shep is on the case to save them, resulting in a frequently outlandish but still highly entertaining sci-fi adventure only the anime medium could realize.

While it’s impossible to talk about Interstella 5555 without mentioning Daft Punk, arguably the film’s most intriguing aspect comes via the involvement of Leiji Matsumoto, the Japanese manga and anime artist who served as supervisor on the project. Matsumoto’s work on Galaxy Express 999 and Space Pirate Captain Harlock (to name but a few) had made him one of the most distinguished figures in the medium, and that Daft Punk was able to entice him onboard (helped by the fact that they had been fans since childhood) removed any doubts about Interstella 5555 being an insincere cash grab. Followers of his work will find much of the film’s content familiar, but as the old saying goes, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”, and it’s clear that Matsumoto’s hiring came from a place of great admiration.

Unlike most musicals, Interstella 5555 features little downtime between each song, putting the film at only a few minutes longer than the Discovery album. In addition, Matsumoto made the bold decision to forego dialogue entirely and use only minimal sound effects, creating a very pure experience. Where another artist would find such confines restrictive, Matsumoto relishes it, weaving the predetermined track list of the soundtrack into the narrative structure with complete ease: the kidnap synching up to the ominous “Aerodynamic”, Shep’s wishful daydream during the idyllic “Digital Love”, his tragic death amidst the sorrowful “Something About Us” … it’s an astonishing level of synchronicity, and enough to make you doubt that the album actually came first. By using the music to both bolster the emotional weight of each scene and guide the story to its next major set piece, Matsumoto ensures that the narrative is always comprehensible – an impressive result given that it could so easily have been the opposite.

Despite the music of Interstella 5555’s being its primary selling point, it’s important to note the depth that Matsumoto bestows upon his characters. Take Stella, for example, the bassist for the Crescendolls. During a montage documenting their rise from unknown band to cultural phenomenon, an enthusiastic fan shakes hands with her. After they leave, the film pauses on Stella, staring at her now empty hand like such a simple gesture of kindness has unearthed the vestige of a previously forgotten memory. The moment lasts for seconds, but the ramifications are so powerful that it becomes the film’s defining image, perfectly encapsulating Matsumoto’s talent for visual storytelling. Interstella 5555 is full of similar details, creating a thematic rich and aesthetically dense universe in ways that can only be described as cinematic. The Crescendolls may have been rendered mindless by Darkwood, but they are not mindless creations. Instead they’re sympathetic figures overflowing with personality who quickly become easy to root for, and that the film achieves this without uttering a single word is something to admire.

Like the Discovery Album, ‘Interstella 5555’ Takes Viewers on a Dreamlike Journey

When asked about the influence of ‘70s and ‘80s music on Discovery, Thomas Bangalter (one-half of Daft Punk alongside Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo) explained that the album was not supposed to be an overt tribute to the music of that period, but rather it was supposed to replicate the feeling of listening to that kind of music for the first time instead. It’s an interesting perspective, and one that enhances both Discovery and Interstella 5555 when experienced with it in mind. During our formative years, we all go through a period where our perception of art changes. Perhaps it came from watching a particular film, or listening to a particular piece of music, for example. Whatever the instigator, the result is the same – what was once just simple entertainment shifts to become something of great personal significance, unlocking a part of ourselves that was previously hidden from sight. Our limited knowledge of critical theory might make it difficult to articulate the hows and whys, but that’s not the important part. You don’t have to be able to articulate an emotion to know it’s real, and the impression such encounters leave on us can have enormous ramifications on the person you later become.

With this in mind, it’s no wonder that Interstella 5555 ends in the bedroom of a young boy, asleep while his vinyl copy of Discovery continues to play on his record player, populating his dreams during the most crucial years of his life. Strewn about his room, we see toys depicting all the characters we’ve spent the past hour watching (alongside a healthy dose of Daft Punk memorabilia). His parent comes in and, being careful not to disturb him, turns off the music and places him into his bed. We linger in this tranquil silence for a moment, then listen to a reprise of all the key tracks as the end credits begin to roll. It’s a beautiful ending, and one that ties perfectly into the ultimate thought process behind Interstella 5555 – to create an inspiring and atmospheric experience that works on a cerebral level first, critical level second. As the culmination of everything Daft Punk was doing during this period, it’s hard to think of a better finale, but the technical prowess that Matsumoto brings to the project ensures it is still a captivating watch in its own right.

Already experienced Interstella 5555 once before? How about another trip into its dreamlike world? One more time, at least.