“Memoirs
of a Geisha” turned out to be exactly what I thought
it would be, which is precisely why it's so disappointing.
The film emerges as a distinctly Western take on Eastern
melodrama, where Japanese characters played by Chinese people
speak English in thick accents; where shots of the Japanese
locales of the 20th century's first half are fetishized
as beauty worthy of the word exotic; where the women are
only as desirable as they are mysterious. In other words,
it is not Asian -- it's Oriental.
Had this story
been set in the present day, it would've been unthinkable,
but the film deflects this angle of criticism by taking
place in an idealized past. And, as always, Hollywood excels
at idealizing the past. The movie's style could quite possibly
pass as "Classic Hollywood," with its tale of
a simple melodrama based on the determination of a woman
society attempts to bring down over and over again. The
emphasis here is in setting up an easy-to-follow story about
repressed love and surrounding it with beautiful technical
work -- lush music, picture perfect cinematography, great
costumes -- and actors of international appeal and acclaim.
That shell of
an idea has potential, but to apply it to such a story --
and the logistical challenges it presents -- seems unwise.
I haven't read the popular novel on which the movie is based,
but just from seeing the movie I would've advised against
mounting such a project. For instance, take the issue of
assembling a non-English-speaking mixed Asian cast and having
them all speak in a manner Americans can understand without
subtitles. The actors range from Chinese of different worldly
origins (Ziyi Zhang, Gong Li, Michelle Yeoh) to Japanese
(Ken Watanabe, Youki Kudoh, Kôji Yakusho), all with
clashing accents and various levels of proficiency in English.
The filmmakers decided that the characters should have a
uniform accent, which is a monumental task to achieve --
not only must the actors learn English, they must learn
it in a specific, unnatural way. And the dialogue itself
emphasizes the sounds of this accent.
As a result,
lines sound stilted; they're awkwardly formal and sometimes
grammatically short cut to accommodate a sound that people
who aren't used to seeing Asians might associate with Asians.
If so much time was taken to teach the cast a uniform version
of English, why not try your best to have the actors speak
in proper English? Is it because "You are to become
geisha!" sounds naturally more Eastern than "You
are to become a geisha," or even "You will become
a geisha"? I don't think there would've been any suitable
solution because the undertaking itself is impractical.
I feel for the actors, but they end up speaking in a manner
so clumsy and dense that my own Chinese parents would have
a terrible time understanding them.
But that's just
a branch issue in how this movie is a bad idea. The main
problem stems from the trunk of the concept -- that the
film would be an Eastern movie made to resemble the most
unchallenging Western ideal of what the East is. It's all
too appropriate that the heroine, Sayuri (Zhang), is deemed
unique because she has blue eyes -- a Western standard of
beauty. She and her kimono and demure disposition and cherry
blossoms that fall around her as she walks on the quaint
little wooden bridge precisely communicate a comfortable
fantasy that, frankly, even Westernized Asians would buy.
It's a soothing force that reinforces old, outdated perceptions
of Japan at a time when we simply don't need more of these
reinforcements. It's Japanland, the newest attraction at
Disneyland.
Equally as soothing
is its story, a simplistic tale of repressed love that carries
some redeeming value by focusing on how women who live in
a society that treats them as second-class citizens and
sex objects manage to use what tools they have to manipulate
themselves into higher positions in society. Frankly, any
woman can relate to this. But even with the self-conscious
production design and the female issues focus, Douglas Sirk
this is not. The characters are two-dimensional and the
movie spends a lot of time pitting the women against each
other, so that they're like combatants waiting to scratch
each other's eyes out.
Seeing some of
my favorite actresses in this movie gave me very mixed emotions.
Ziyi Zhang is normally a firecracker, but here she's not
only held back by her victimized character but also hamstrung
by having to act in English. Michelle Yeoh, likewise, is
held back by the formality of her reserved character. Only
Gong Li has some space; as the evil (there is no other word
to use, really) Hatsumomo, she gets to be mean and emotional,
but her character isn't given much range. I never got the
feeling that she was a human being first, plot driver second.
And as much as I love these women, I still pause at the
thought of having them play Japanese women over some potentially
talented, deserving Japanese actresses.
Do I hate this
movie? No, I can't say that I do -- its enforcement of the
outdated ideal of the Orient will be tempered a bit by the
time setting and perhaps more by its overt Hollywood feel;
that is, it doesn't seem real in the least, so it's easy
to recognize it as simply a glossy studio production. And
it does give more Western exposure to talented people who
deserve it -- Zhang, Gong, Yeoh, Watanabe, and others. No
such thing as bad publicity, right? It's not what I was
hoping for, but it could have been worse than what I expected,
which wasn't much in the first place. From that point of
view, “Memoirs of a Geisha” amounts to no more
than a trifle.
Based
on the renowned bestseller, Memoirs of a Geisha chronicles
the career of Sayuri (Ziyi Zhang), a young woman who as
a child is sold into the geisha profession in 1929. Her
strength rises as she ascends to become the most beautiful
geisha in all Japan.
Along
the way, Sayuri falls in love with a wealthy businessman
called The Chairman (Ken Watanabe), adopts a mentor (Michelle
Yeoh) and faces off against her rival (Gong Li).
“Memoirs
of a Geisha” opening sequences made it hard to get
into the film at first. The film was very clunky and off-kilter.
When Ziyi Zhang takes over in the more adult role of the
film’s central character, a majesty erupts. She is
beautiful, captivating, strong and above all else relatable.
Zhang glides through the role like a prominent geisha should.
Then when she is complimented by Yeoh, the film really seems
to find its footing, sort of. The soul of the film should
have been about these two women but because it always dabbles
in so many other subplots it loses it way quite quickly.
I have
been told that the novel is written through the eyes of
Sayuri and the film barely acknowledges that in the narration
and that the story is completely hers. In the book, the
yearning for the Chairman to love her must be a central
theme but here in the film it is confusing. We never get
the idea he loves her and it comes off as more of a school
girl crush than something substantial. The love story between
Sayuri and the Chairman is wasted and the whole subplot
seems very convoluted.
It wasn’t
only the love story that failed but the structure of most
of the other subplots. Director Rob Marshall’s inexperience
with a film of this size could be to blame for the lack
of concrete sub-plots and strong character development.
I think for this film to improve it needed to be a “cable
mini-series” or have a strong epic director at the
helm.
There
is a lot to like about this film but probably its greatest
fault is that it isn’t a strong epic. A story like
this needed a stronger vision and a stronger director.
Start
by understanding that this isn't a factual rendition of
Japanese history, then you can accept this film existing
in a dream world as realistic as, say, Tim Burton's Edward
Scissorhands. As such, it's a sumptuous fantasy with a gripping,
emotional story.
Chiyo
(Ohgo) is a 9-year-old sold by her parents to a Kyoto geisha
house. Her unusual beauty sparks vicious jealousy. But as
she grows up (now Zhang), she's taken under the wing of
prominent geisha Mameha (Yeoh), renamed Sayuri and prepared
to challenge her spiteful "sister" Hatsumomo (Gong)
as top geisha. Meanwhile, Sayuri courts potential sponsors--an
industrialist (Yakusho), a doctor (Kim), a general (Tsang)--while
pining for a businessman (Watanabe) who was kind to her
as a child.
Arthur
Golden's novel blends firsthand accounts, rumours and Western
storytelling, so it's not surprising that the filmmakers
didn't feel bound by authenticity. They go for broke, recreating
mid-20th century Kyoto as a Japanese fairyland gorgeously
drenched in inky shadows and glowing lanterns. Colleen Atwood's
costumes are fabulous, and she admits they're drastically
stylised. The make-up is far more natural than any geisha
would wear, while the dancing and music are about 60 years
ahead of their time.
And
most notably the filmmakers cast prominent Chinese actresses
in the principal roles. Zhang, Yeoh and Gong are staggeringly
good, but their physicality is notably different from the
Japanese, and they're required to perform in (broken) English.
Which makes no sense at all, if you think about it. The
fact that they're strong enough to overcome this disadvantage
speaks volumes about their skills. And they're beautifully
supported by sensitive, interesting acting from the men
and women around them.
As a
director, Marshall tells the story exceptionally well. Sayuri's
odyssey is deeply involving, and leads to a superb conclusion.
Marshall revels in these characters, drawing out their sparky
diva-like behaviour and the way their world crumbles around
them with the arrival of WWII. So even if it's exaggerated
and improbable on every level, the film still manages to
grab our eye with its spectacular artistry, and our heart
with its simple tale of yearning.