Helter Skelter plays as a pitch-black satire on the hollowness of fame and the psychic rot that comes from living solely to be adored. Erika Sawajiri’s Lilico is a cross-cultural superstar in the Lady Gaga mould: magnetic, hyper-stylised and utterly toxic. She’s had so much cosmetic work that the film asks for a generous suspension of disbelief – she looks less like a surgical construct than a conventionally gorgeous woman in her mid-twenties – but the point stands: Lilico is more fabrication than person.
A model who’s outgrown modelling, she makes films and albums despite admitting she can’t act or sing. Her face is everywhere; she’s the aspirational ideal. Yet she’s also a commodity, exploited by “Mama” (Kaori Momoi), a parasitic handler who treats her as a revenue stream rather than a human being.
For all her influence, Lilico is a puppet with an expiry date. Kozue (Kiko Mizuhara), a softer, more grounded idol, represents the inevitable next wave, exposing Lilico’s desperation. Hada (Shinobu Terajima), her long-suffering assistant, endures constant humiliation – proof of how intoxicating proximity to power can be, even when corrosive.
At the centre is Lilico herself: terrified of losing her lover, her looks and the fragile identity built on adoration. Fame brings no joy, only dread. Sawajiri is superb, making her both mesmerising and monstrous – a reminder that when you exist to be celebrated, you also have to absorb the ugliness that comes with it.
