David Zellner’s Kumiko, the Treasure Hunter focuses on a Japanese woman suffering from psychotic delusions that have have left her not only obsessed with the film Fargo, but convinced it is real. It follows her from her miserable life in Japan through to her trip to the real Fargo to find the Briefcase buried by a character in that film. The primary way that it examines mental illness is by laying out a mentally ill character and inviting us to watch it, and come to our own feelings about her. from a distance, as we get very little insight into her actual self.
The story of the film is based off of the Urban Legend of Takako Konishi, a Japanese Office Worker found dead in Minnesota after around a month of traveling through that state and South Dakota. While in reality she had traveled there to commit suicide, and had come there out of remembrance for a Minnesotan ex-lover, the story was twisted by news reporters to have been her search for the briefcase of money buried in the film Fargo, which she was convinced was real. In the film, this is the case - Kumiko has become so beset by the struggles of her life that she’s developed persistent delusions as a way to give her life any meaning.
Kumiko is seen in the majority of the shots of the film, and her movement and emotions tend to be the focal point. This is especially important during the latter half, when she’s in Minnesota, the language barrier impacting her ability to communicate vocally, meaning the performance by Rinko Kikuchi relies almost entirely on body language.
Kumiko often seems to be an ethereal figure divorced from reality, not just in emotion, but in substance, and her inability to communicate aids this, casting her as, functionally, an alien relying on empathy in the lives of the Americans. Similarly, her delusions make her unpredictable, not operating under conventional human logic. She acts as an unstoppable force in her goals, any attempts - all out of kindness - to stop her from killing herself fail, as she’s too far gone from humans at this point, and the language barrier only alienates her further. The shot above shows her as an isolated figure, but also one not recognizably human. Many shots in the film are similar long shots which show her from the back, especially clad in thick winter clothes in Minnesota. 
The usage of sound in the film, and the predominance of the colour white and shots of pure snow, without any dirt, also give Kumiko an inhuman air. White, as a colour, represents purity and friendliness - which, in the sense of “Too good for this sinful Earth”, Kumiko embodies. Kumiko seeks the snow, it representing her desire to find the treasure, even as others avoid it out for their safety, and as such, deep in the snow, she’s alone - fully isolated. And the joy such desolation brings is surreal, especially in the final scene of the film where she finds the briefcase and is reunited with her previously abandoned rabbit, usually interpreted to be her dying wish as she freezes to death.
The Film is scored by The Octopus Project, an Indie Pop band known for ethereal psychedelia music, which they give to the film. The score is littered with light synth riffs that incorporate various odd musical sounds - notably, didgeridoos - and use that to highlight the film’s odd, off-putting mood.
While all of this makes for an excellent film style, as a real depiction of mental illness, it’s off-putting. While Inside Out’s main purpose was to use the medium of animation to humanize someone suffering from mental illness, and show how they truly feel, Kumiko the Treasure Hunter is the opposite. Dr. Martin Anderson, in studying the impact of media depictions of the mentally ill and how they are treated, observed “On this basis, the films described so far were incredibly successful and perhaps more successful in reinforcing the feeling of fear and ‘I’m glad it's not me’”, and this film contributes to exactly that culture of alienating those suffering by othering its main character. The titular Kumiko is less the Protagonist of the film than its Subject, as the film actively distances us from her so much of her character and her story is ambiguous. Her suffering is secondary to telling a strange story. Seeing Kumiko, a woman whose depression has lead her into sustained delusions and indirect self-harm, portrayed as something weird to be pondered and examined, instead of to be connected with, is ultimately dehumanizing, and while the film is certainly a tragedy, it’s one we’re supposed to feel distant from.
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