![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Last night ![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-userinfo.gif)
kyonkun and I went to see Memoirs of a Geisha. I was pretty hesitant about this movie for a couple of reasons -- first, it's an adaptation of a book, a book that I really liked. Then there's the mishmash of ethnicities -- the three main female characters are played by Chinese women, and the director, producer, screenwriter, and even composer are all non-Japanese (and white, as far as I know). Overall, though, it was pretty good.
The opening sequence of the movie really threw me around, because on the one hand, it's gorgeous. We're in Chiyo's (the future Sayuri) childhood home, a fishing village on a cliffside overlooking a raging sea during a heavy thunderstorm. (This sets the tone for the rest of the movie: whatever else is going on, there are sumptuous and awe-inspiring visuals.) Very dark, very dramatic, a great mood-setter. It's even better when we get to Miyako, the crowded and noisy city that somehow seems dirtier and more dangerous than being left at nature's mercy.
However, on the other hand ... the people are all speaking Japanese. (No subtitles or anything -- if you don't understand Japanese, or haven't read the book, everything is mysteriously ominous.) Now, I knew from having seen the commercials, and also knowing that Ziyi Zhang doesn't speak a word of Japanese, that this would be an English-language movie. So here I am, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot-ing at the screen, as we enter the aforementioned Miyako, and they just switch. No time lapse, no fade-into-darkness-fade-back-to-English (which would have been cheesy, but less jarring). They just travel for a little while in silence, and once Chiyo steps into the okiya, her new home, she's speaking English.
What's more, they keep injecting Japanese throughout the film. Some of it, I can maybe understand -- when Sayuri calls Mameha, her "older sister," oneesan, or they call the "mother" of the house okaasan. Also, there are a couple of words that don't translate well, like gokurousama deshita (a "thank you"/"good work" expression used after someone completes a job) or hajimemashite (an introduction that literally means something like "this is the first time"). But it's hardly necessary -- I don't think oneesan and okaasan were even used in the book at all. Additionally, at one point, Auntie reads a letter that uses the slightly awkward phrase "this humble person," rather than saying something ridiculous like "sessha believes that ..." Why not do that consistently? And why on earth keep words with direct translations, like hayaku ("hurry") or mite mite ("look, look")? Jeebus, they even say arigatou. The whole thing just gives me a weird, overeager vibe, like "look we're speaking Japanese so it's authentic lolz." You know, like anime fanfics that make characters spout onegai and doko? randomly, as if they were crapping out Japanese phrasebooks? We know they're all speaking Japanese. We're willing to make that assumption. No need to remind us constantly, kthx.
It really becomes a problem when they meet the Americans after WWII. I kept wondering how they would handle the who's-speaking-English issue -- perhaps the Americans wouldn't speak much at all, thus preserving the illusion that the English dialogue was actually Japanese. But no, they do (an alteration of the story makes the Americans figure more prominently in the plot, so there has to be dialogue). And no one notices. The Americans, the Japanese businessmen, and the geisha all converse fluently with each other. At one point, an American bows to Sayuri and says konnichi wa, before sliding easily into English conversation, which made me want to shake them both and yell "What language are you speaking??"
Okay. I'm done venting. It's not a huge problem, really -- but it's awkward and obvious enough that I can't imagine how it got past editing.
As for Ziyi Zhang, I think she did a good job. Yes, I was hesitant about having a Chinese actress play the part, but, askyonkun and I discussed, we were less concerned with Zhang's ability and more worried about people who don't think it matters at all. You know, people who would say "it doesn't make a difference," or "they all look alike anyway." Were the makers of this film people like that? I'd like to think not.
And no, it's not the same as Russell Crowe playing a Roman in Gladiator. Jeebus.
But, like I said, I liked Zhang as Sayuri. I've seen a lot of reviews that criticize her for being too quiet or subdued, but, um ... that's kind of the point. Sayuri is a composed woman whose speech and movements should be soft. Gong Li, who plays the rival Hatsumomo, was wonderfully venomous. Some people have said she steals the spotlight, which she does at times. That's Hatsumomo, though -- she's flashy and eye-catching, but she lacks substance both as a person and as a geisha. And Michelle Yeoh as Mameha? Perfect. I like Michelle Yeoh anyway, but she really fit as Mameha -- elegant, perceptive, and able to display age without it appearing as a burden.
Their accents may make you cringe, though. Zhang and Li both have heavy Chinese accents (I believe these are the first English language roles for both of them), and Yeoh's is British (she's from Hong Kong). It's kinda ... yeah. >_> Especially when the rest of the cast is Japanese.
Speaking of the Japanese cast -- the actress for young Chiyo is really adorable.
The climax is the part I really got hung up on. Yes, one of the central conflicts is the fact that Sayuri can't be with the man she loves for social reasons (owing to both her status as a geisha and his own business relations). I expected that adaptation to film would result in a loss of some subtlety -- we have to condense the conflict down into a few minutes of film, and make it dramatic for the audience. But Sayuri's confrontation with Mameha is really pronounced. This is one of the only scenes where Sayuri raises her voice, and the whole thing feels polarized: "I want to be free"/"You're a geisha so you're a slave," "I want to love"/"Love is stupid," etc. For one thing, this isn't how it happens in the book -- for another, this rewrites the conflict in Americanized terms. The geisha life, along with the tradition and obedience that shape it, are cast as some heartless, oppressive force that seeks to hold back Sayuri's glorious quest for love and freedom. Her disobedience appears as a virtue. However, in actuality, Sayuri is not attempting to reject her horrible lifestyle or expose the stifling nature of her responsibilities. She's not some geisha freedom-fighter. She's refusing her circumstances, not opposing the entire institution.
This is clear if you pay attention to the rest of the movie -- for example, how Hatsumomo appears as an alternative to Sayuri's behavior. She even notes how they are similar, in that they both want love in a way that breaks rules. The difference, of course, is that Hatsumomo lashes out blindly without control, without respect, with no thought to people or obligations beyond her own desires. Sayuri is like Hatsumomo with a heart and a brain, because she doesn't behave cruelly or irresponsibly. Having Hatsumomo as a foil allows us to see how much more disciplined and hard-working Sayuri is, and how that serves her well in the end.
The Sayuri/Mameha confrontation, however, portrays the Japanese/Asian values of discipline and obedience as unfair and unheroic, and -- once again -- incomprehensible. Instead of illuminating this Japanese lifestyle in Japanese terms, this twist on the ending makes the tradition an antagonistic force, something "other" and inferior to good ol' American freedom. I don't think that's what the book was trying to do -- even though it was written by a white man, I felt like the author portrayed Sayuri's rebellion as admirable, without criticizing the forces that shaped her life. In actuality [spoilers: highlight to read] the tragedy of Sayuri's situation was more a product of circumstance than anything else. She loved the Chairman, but she happened to (openly) draw the attention of Nobu, his business partner, first. The Chairman couldn't betray his colleague/friend, and she couldn't reject the man who was her client and treated her well. It wasn't a case of "geisha can't love oh noes!!1!" but rather, geisha (as well as other people) have duties and honor, and Sayuri had the ill luck that her responsibilities contradicted her wishes. Even in the end, when she tries to arrange for Nobu to see her dishonoring herself by having casual sex with a man who isn't her danna (patron), she is keenly aware of duty. Her actions would theoretically dishonor herself in Nobu's eyes, he would reject her, and then the Chairman could be her patron without violating his own duties. The rebellion strategically targets Nobu -- if no one else saw her, she would not be disgraced as a geisha by society in general. In the book, she does, in fact, maintain her status as a geisha. Were she truly rejecting the geisha tradition, she'd just throw herself at the Chairman and try to run off with him. This way, she maintains her own honor and his, carefully manipulating her duties rather than outright rejecting them. Of course, even people who read the book could interpret the conflict as freedom/love vs. evil tradition, I suppose. However, I think the movie's treatment of it reinforces this simplified dualism more than necessary.
Kind of odd that I should be attempting to defend tradition so much, isn't it? :P It's not so much that I think the geisha lifestyle worthy of rabid protection, though; rather, I hate to see it dismissed out of hand along with the attendant values of discipline and responsibility and honor. Sure, they're not as glamorous as the usual thumb-your-nose rebelliousness we see in movies, but both have their place and their worth. I worry that Western, especially American, audiences will give the movie the normal, comfortable Westernized reading and get nothing out of it. For all the welcome that the beautiful and "exotic" (ugh) world of geisha is receiving, the underlying substance will remain unappreciated. I see that a lot -- some Asian things are cool, pretty, sexy, but the rest of it? Unnoticed.
After all that, I do still recommend the movie. Despite the alterations to the story, it does remain largely faithful to the novel, and the novel is worthwhile. The cast, beyond the main actresses, do quite well; and, as I said, the visuals are very appealing. I would just recommend maintaining a critical eye toward the ending, and the assumed values that underlie its execution.
kyonkun and I went to see Memoirs of a Geisha. I was pretty hesitant about this movie for a couple of reasons -- first, it's an adaptation of a book, a book that I really liked. Then there's the mishmash of ethnicities -- the three main female characters are played by Chinese women, and the director, producer, screenwriter, and even composer are all non-Japanese (and white, as far as I know). Overall, though, it was pretty good. The opening sequence of the movie really threw me around, because on the one hand, it's gorgeous. We're in Chiyo's (the future Sayuri) childhood home, a fishing village on a cliffside overlooking a raging sea during a heavy thunderstorm. (This sets the tone for the rest of the movie: whatever else is going on, there are sumptuous and awe-inspiring visuals.) Very dark, very dramatic, a great mood-setter. It's even better when we get to Miyako, the crowded and noisy city that somehow seems dirtier and more dangerous than being left at nature's mercy.
However, on the other hand ... the people are all speaking Japanese. (No subtitles or anything -- if you don't understand Japanese, or haven't read the book, everything is mysteriously ominous.) Now, I knew from having seen the commercials, and also knowing that Ziyi Zhang doesn't speak a word of Japanese, that this would be an English-language movie. So here I am, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot-ing at the screen, as we enter the aforementioned Miyako, and they just switch. No time lapse, no fade-into-darkness-fade-back-to-English (which would have been cheesy, but less jarring). They just travel for a little while in silence, and once Chiyo steps into the okiya, her new home, she's speaking English.
What's more, they keep injecting Japanese throughout the film. Some of it, I can maybe understand -- when Sayuri calls Mameha, her "older sister," oneesan, or they call the "mother" of the house okaasan. Also, there are a couple of words that don't translate well, like gokurousama deshita (a "thank you"/"good work" expression used after someone completes a job) or hajimemashite (an introduction that literally means something like "this is the first time"). But it's hardly necessary -- I don't think oneesan and okaasan were even used in the book at all. Additionally, at one point, Auntie reads a letter that uses the slightly awkward phrase "this humble person," rather than saying something ridiculous like "sessha believes that ..." Why not do that consistently? And why on earth keep words with direct translations, like hayaku ("hurry") or mite mite ("look, look")? Jeebus, they even say arigatou. The whole thing just gives me a weird, overeager vibe, like "look we're speaking Japanese so it's authentic lolz." You know, like anime fanfics that make characters spout onegai and doko? randomly, as if they were crapping out Japanese phrasebooks? We know they're all speaking Japanese. We're willing to make that assumption. No need to remind us constantly, kthx.
It really becomes a problem when they meet the Americans after WWII. I kept wondering how they would handle the who's-speaking-English issue -- perhaps the Americans wouldn't speak much at all, thus preserving the illusion that the English dialogue was actually Japanese. But no, they do (an alteration of the story makes the Americans figure more prominently in the plot, so there has to be dialogue). And no one notices. The Americans, the Japanese businessmen, and the geisha all converse fluently with each other. At one point, an American bows to Sayuri and says konnichi wa, before sliding easily into English conversation, which made me want to shake them both and yell "What language are you speaking??"
Okay. I'm done venting. It's not a huge problem, really -- but it's awkward and obvious enough that I can't imagine how it got past editing.
As for Ziyi Zhang, I think she did a good job. Yes, I was hesitant about having a Chinese actress play the part, but, as
kyonkun and I discussed, we were less concerned with Zhang's ability and more worried about people who don't think it matters at all. You know, people who would say "it doesn't make a difference," or "they all look alike anyway." Were the makers of this film people like that? I'd like to think not.And no, it's not the same as Russell Crowe playing a Roman in Gladiator. Jeebus.
But, like I said, I liked Zhang as Sayuri. I've seen a lot of reviews that criticize her for being too quiet or subdued, but, um ... that's kind of the point. Sayuri is a composed woman whose speech and movements should be soft. Gong Li, who plays the rival Hatsumomo, was wonderfully venomous. Some people have said she steals the spotlight, which she does at times. That's Hatsumomo, though -- she's flashy and eye-catching, but she lacks substance both as a person and as a geisha. And Michelle Yeoh as Mameha? Perfect. I like Michelle Yeoh anyway, but she really fit as Mameha -- elegant, perceptive, and able to display age without it appearing as a burden.
Their accents may make you cringe, though. Zhang and Li both have heavy Chinese accents (I believe these are the first English language roles for both of them), and Yeoh's is British (she's from Hong Kong). It's kinda ... yeah. >_> Especially when the rest of the cast is Japanese.
Speaking of the Japanese cast -- the actress for young Chiyo is really adorable.
The climax is the part I really got hung up on. Yes, one of the central conflicts is the fact that Sayuri can't be with the man she loves for social reasons (owing to both her status as a geisha and his own business relations). I expected that adaptation to film would result in a loss of some subtlety -- we have to condense the conflict down into a few minutes of film, and make it dramatic for the audience. But Sayuri's confrontation with Mameha is really pronounced. This is one of the only scenes where Sayuri raises her voice, and the whole thing feels polarized: "I want to be free"/"You're a geisha so you're a slave," "I want to love"/"Love is stupid," etc. For one thing, this isn't how it happens in the book -- for another, this rewrites the conflict in Americanized terms. The geisha life, along with the tradition and obedience that shape it, are cast as some heartless, oppressive force that seeks to hold back Sayuri's glorious quest for love and freedom. Her disobedience appears as a virtue. However, in actuality, Sayuri is not attempting to reject her horrible lifestyle or expose the stifling nature of her responsibilities. She's not some geisha freedom-fighter. She's refusing her circumstances, not opposing the entire institution.
This is clear if you pay attention to the rest of the movie -- for example, how Hatsumomo appears as an alternative to Sayuri's behavior. She even notes how they are similar, in that they both want love in a way that breaks rules. The difference, of course, is that Hatsumomo lashes out blindly without control, without respect, with no thought to people or obligations beyond her own desires. Sayuri is like Hatsumomo with a heart and a brain, because she doesn't behave cruelly or irresponsibly. Having Hatsumomo as a foil allows us to see how much more disciplined and hard-working Sayuri is, and how that serves her well in the end.
The Sayuri/Mameha confrontation, however, portrays the Japanese/Asian values of discipline and obedience as unfair and unheroic, and -- once again -- incomprehensible. Instead of illuminating this Japanese lifestyle in Japanese terms, this twist on the ending makes the tradition an antagonistic force, something "other" and inferior to good ol' American freedom. I don't think that's what the book was trying to do -- even though it was written by a white man, I felt like the author portrayed Sayuri's rebellion as admirable, without criticizing the forces that shaped her life. In actuality [spoilers: highlight to read] the tragedy of Sayuri's situation was more a product of circumstance than anything else. She loved the Chairman, but she happened to (openly) draw the attention of Nobu, his business partner, first. The Chairman couldn't betray his colleague/friend, and she couldn't reject the man who was her client and treated her well. It wasn't a case of "geisha can't love oh noes!!1!" but rather, geisha (as well as other people) have duties and honor, and Sayuri had the ill luck that her responsibilities contradicted her wishes. Even in the end, when she tries to arrange for Nobu to see her dishonoring herself by having casual sex with a man who isn't her danna (patron), she is keenly aware of duty. Her actions would theoretically dishonor herself in Nobu's eyes, he would reject her, and then the Chairman could be her patron without violating his own duties. The rebellion strategically targets Nobu -- if no one else saw her, she would not be disgraced as a geisha by society in general. In the book, she does, in fact, maintain her status as a geisha. Were she truly rejecting the geisha tradition, she'd just throw herself at the Chairman and try to run off with him. This way, she maintains her own honor and his, carefully manipulating her duties rather than outright rejecting them. Of course, even people who read the book could interpret the conflict as freedom/love vs. evil tradition, I suppose. However, I think the movie's treatment of it reinforces this simplified dualism more than necessary.
Kind of odd that I should be attempting to defend tradition so much, isn't it? :P It's not so much that I think the geisha lifestyle worthy of rabid protection, though; rather, I hate to see it dismissed out of hand along with the attendant values of discipline and responsibility and honor. Sure, they're not as glamorous as the usual thumb-your-nose rebelliousness we see in movies, but both have their place and their worth. I worry that Western, especially American, audiences will give the movie the normal, comfortable Westernized reading and get nothing out of it. For all the welcome that the beautiful and "exotic" (ugh) world of geisha is receiving, the underlying substance will remain unappreciated. I see that a lot -- some Asian things are cool, pretty, sexy, but the rest of it? Unnoticed.
After all that, I do still recommend the movie. Despite the alterations to the story, it does remain largely faithful to the novel, and the novel is worthwhile. The cast, beyond the main actresses, do quite well; and, as I said, the visuals are very appealing. I would just recommend maintaining a critical eye toward the ending, and the assumed values that underlie its execution.