More classic films were produced by the Hollywood
studio system during the 1930s and ’40s than during any other period
in cinema history, and though many of these movies seem quaint and
naïve today, they had solid scripts as their foundation. Although I
love discovering modern features that remind me of films from that bygone
era, there are occasions when the style used then is simply inappropriate
today. Rob Marshall’s adaptation of Arthur Golden’s Memoirs of a Geisha is a
prime example, enticing us with a peek at a hidden, exotic world, only to
present it in a chaste, vague light that leaves viewers with far more
questions than answers. The tale of Chiyo (Suzuka Ohgo) is a tragic one that,
in the right hands, would be a three-hankie weeper. Chiyo’s father
sells her and her sister to Mother (Kaori Momoi), a bitter woman who runs a
geisha house. Though she does Mother’s bidding and works night and
day, Chiyo cannot seem to do anything to please her and, to make matters
worse, gets on the bad side of Hatsumomo (Gong Li), the house’s prime
earner. Unsure of what to do with her life of toil and strife, Chiyo
responds to a simple act of kindness by the Chairman (Ken Watanabe), whom
she encounters in the town square one day while running an errand. A dish
of ice cream and a pittance of money earns the Chairman Chiyo’s
undying devotion, and she decides to become a geisha as a means of entering
his world. Oddly, Mameha (Michelle Yeoh), the head of another geisha house,
meets with Mother not long after Chiyo’s encounter with the Chairman
to inquire about taking the girl in and giving her the proper training to
become a geisha. Obviously Mameha has an ulterior motive, and
she’s not the only one working behind the scenes to transform the
girl Chiyo into the woman Sayuri (Ziyi Zhang), who, on making her debut,
threatens to usurp Hatsumomo’s power as the most popular geisha in
Kyoto. One would think that such a plot-heavy movie would be consistently
interesting and move at a brisk pace. Unfortunately, Marshall presents the
tale with such a sterile tone of reverence that it comes off as a lifeless
period piece. Many of the conflicts in the film are played out in broad
strokes, resulting in needless melodrama that makes it hard for us to take
Sayuri’s plight seriously. What should have been intriguing look at a
fascinating era in Japanese history comes off as an overwrought romance
that was out of style by the 1950s. Although Marshall has created a gorgeous film steeped
in visual nostalgia, he drops the ball when it comes to delivering an
emotional knockout punch during the film’s climax. Very little is
made of the loss of tradition and social mores caused by World War II and
the influx of Western culture in Japan.
This article appears in Dec 15-21, 2005.
