Memoirs of a Geisha Review (Sunday Business Post)

It seems like cinemas are filled with nothing but adaptations these days. This month sees the release of Jarhead and Memoirs of a Geisha hot on the tails of Narnia and Harry Potter. While many could argue a case for lack of creativity in La La Land, it’s certainly more welcome than the other blitz: TV remakes. “Murphy’s Micro Quiz M: The Movie” is only around the corner, just you wait.
Adapted from Arthur Golden’s pretty decent novel, Memoirs begins its saga in the late twenties in the fictional district of Kyoto. Sold by her father, nine-year-old Chiyo (Zhang Ziyi) is taken in by the house of infamous geisha Hatsumomo. The ‘house mother’, a strict disciplinarian, explains to the frightened new arrival that she is to be trained in the great geisha tradition. But insecure and jealous Hatsumomo spots competition in the young girl and goes about making her life impossible. With backstabbing and blackmailing aplenty, Chiyo is quickly demoted to maid and hits rock bottom. When she bumps into a kind businessman on the street, she falls in love immediately and swears to win his affection.
The Cinderella story is universal, but the exotic setting of the world of the golden age of the geisha is the films unique selling point. The world-wide success of films such as Ang Lee’s Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Hero and House of Flying Daggers presumably have helped birth this leap into Hollywood drama with an all-Asian cast. But it’s hardly a baptism of fire. For commercial reasons, Memoirs was never going to be made in any language other than English. It takes a good twenty minutes to get used to foreign actors dubbing themselves in English. There’s no oubt the film’s authenticity certainly suffers a little for it and judging by a dreadful opening weekend in the US, the risk may not have been worth the sacrifice.
Placard-wavers were also out in droves over the casting decisions – neither of the two leads are Japanese. While this left a quarter of Asia with tired arms, Chinese-born Zhang Ziyi and Malaysian Michelle Yeoh do a pretty good imitation to the untrained eye. Ziyi in particular is a poster girl for the orient, representing the height of talent flooding into Hollywood from the East over the past while. As the story follows Chi-yo from teenager to thirty-something spinster, the transformation is flawless. No matter how much help you get from Maybelline, that’s no mean feat.
Director Rob Marshall’s only other fault is watering down the material a bit. The book gets more leverage from the Japanese importance of honour and shame to create drama – the film is merely sentimental by comparison. Otherwise the film is entertaining and beautiful. Sumptuous sets provide idyllic backgrounds for the action, and credit must go to the cinematographer who has created a real feast for the eyes from some parking lot in LA.
A satisfying epic that manages to keep the heart and pace of the book despite having taken sumo-size chunks out of it, Memoirs of a Geisha should at least perform better over here. The question is how much – in pandering to those with a phobia of subtitles, Marshall may have commited hari-kari and fallen on his own sword.