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I loved this book back when I first read it in...2003, I think? So when I heard they were making a movie out of it, and that Rob Marshall (who did Chicago, one of my all-time favorite movies) was directing, I was quite excited.
Then the reviews came out, and they were...mixed, to say the least. I still meant to go see it, but somehow it never made it to the top of the priority list. Later I meant to rent the Blu-ray and watch it on our old home theater, but again, it never quite made it to the top of the Netflix queue. I think, ultimately, I was afraid that it wouldn't hold up to the book at all and would just be a disappointment.
Nearly a decade later, thanks to the vagaries of Blockbuster Online's service (review still forthcoming!), the disc shows up in my mailbox. We still don't get around to watching it right away, but last night we finally sat down and popped it in, even though neither of us held much in the way of expectations.
Here's the thing: The book is a masterpiece of subtlety and nuance. It does an amazing job depicting a strongly hierarchical culture where acceptable behavior and desires are strictly dictated by one's status, relationships, and place in society, but with very real people working within those constraints, who often have to figure out how to express and accommodate their less-than-acceptable desires in ways that work within the culture. And it does it all in some beautifully poetic language that somehow manages to keep from becoming overly purple.
Obviously, when you're taking a life story and condensing it down to a two-hour movie, a lot of subtlety and nuance is going to be lost. And, sadly, that's what happens here: Sayuri's internal qualms against the strictures of geisha life become a classic Hollywood tantrum scene of the sort to make any actual Japanese person cringe, and her quiet intelligence and gift for expression are reduced to a few one-liners; Nobu's crotchety-and-controlling-but-also-kind-and-fiercely-smart-and-observant personality is reduced to "controlling asshole" (and he grows an arm!); the vibrant picture of how Japanese culture changes throughout the 30s and 40s (and how WWII affects it so dramatically) is pushed to the background. It's not as thorough a gutting as I've seen in some other adaptations, and frankly I think most of the compromises are understandable given the restrictions of the format, but I can see why fans of the book might be disappointed and even angry to think that people might see the simplistic and occasionally trite story in the movie and assume the book is like that as well.
All that said, I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the film. Rob Marshall may not be a big one for subtlety, but I'll be damned if he doesn't know how to make a stunning movie. The costume and set design budgets for this film must have been huge; the recreation of 1930s Kyoto is just gorgeous, with all sorts of little period touches and what must be hundreds of costumed extras to properly depict the teeming masses of humanity that lived (and still live) in Japanese cities. And the cinematography is beyond reproach; nearly every single shot looks like it might be a painting, with amazing use of light, color, and composition throughout. Similarly, John Williams' score (famously featuring Yo-Yo Ma on cello and Itzhak Perlman on violin) absolutely deserved its Academy Award nomination. Even though I didn't find the story as presented on-screen very compelling, the artistry of these elements alone were enough that I didn't find myself impatient for it to end. (And for those who don't know me and how centrally I prize storytelling in any format, let me clarify - that's about the highest praise I can offer.)
Ultimately, I'm surprised to find myself saying I'd recommend both versions to anyone interested in the story. The caveat being, of course, that they're very different works with very different strengths. But I'm glad I wasn't as turned off by the film as I thought I'd be, and if it doesn't quite do the story in the book justice, it's at least a worthy piece of art on its own.
On a more lighthearted note: Much was made at the time of how the Japanese roles were being played primarily by Chinese actors, largely because (thanks to the brief concurrent popularity of wuxia films such as Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) their names were more recognizable to a Western audience. Speaking as a bona fide White Person who truly and honestly can't identify from physical attributes any given Japanese, Chinese, Thai or Korean person, I didn't find the substitutions jarring. I do, however, have quite a bit of experience with Japanese accents, so I had a pretty good idea which actors were Japanese and which not from that alone. Brian, unsurprisingly, could easily tell who was and who wasn't Japanese; when Ken Watanabe showed up on-screen for the first time, he commented "Why, hello there, first Japanese person with a speaking role we've seen in this entire movie about Japan." I snorted.
Then the reviews came out, and they were...mixed, to say the least. I still meant to go see it, but somehow it never made it to the top of the priority list. Later I meant to rent the Blu-ray and watch it on our old home theater, but again, it never quite made it to the top of the Netflix queue. I think, ultimately, I was afraid that it wouldn't hold up to the book at all and would just be a disappointment.
Nearly a decade later, thanks to the vagaries of Blockbuster Online's service (review still forthcoming!), the disc shows up in my mailbox. We still don't get around to watching it right away, but last night we finally sat down and popped it in, even though neither of us held much in the way of expectations.
Here's the thing: The book is a masterpiece of subtlety and nuance. It does an amazing job depicting a strongly hierarchical culture where acceptable behavior and desires are strictly dictated by one's status, relationships, and place in society, but with very real people working within those constraints, who often have to figure out how to express and accommodate their less-than-acceptable desires in ways that work within the culture. And it does it all in some beautifully poetic language that somehow manages to keep from becoming overly purple.
Obviously, when you're taking a life story and condensing it down to a two-hour movie, a lot of subtlety and nuance is going to be lost. And, sadly, that's what happens here: Sayuri's internal qualms against the strictures of geisha life become a classic Hollywood tantrum scene of the sort to make any actual Japanese person cringe, and her quiet intelligence and gift for expression are reduced to a few one-liners; Nobu's crotchety-and-controlling-but-also-kind-and-fiercely-smart-and-observant personality is reduced to "controlling asshole" (and he grows an arm!); the vibrant picture of how Japanese culture changes throughout the 30s and 40s (and how WWII affects it so dramatically) is pushed to the background. It's not as thorough a gutting as I've seen in some other adaptations, and frankly I think most of the compromises are understandable given the restrictions of the format, but I can see why fans of the book might be disappointed and even angry to think that people might see the simplistic and occasionally trite story in the movie and assume the book is like that as well.
All that said, I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the film. Rob Marshall may not be a big one for subtlety, but I'll be damned if he doesn't know how to make a stunning movie. The costume and set design budgets for this film must have been huge; the recreation of 1930s Kyoto is just gorgeous, with all sorts of little period touches and what must be hundreds of costumed extras to properly depict the teeming masses of humanity that lived (and still live) in Japanese cities. And the cinematography is beyond reproach; nearly every single shot looks like it might be a painting, with amazing use of light, color, and composition throughout. Similarly, John Williams' score (famously featuring Yo-Yo Ma on cello and Itzhak Perlman on violin) absolutely deserved its Academy Award nomination. Even though I didn't find the story as presented on-screen very compelling, the artistry of these elements alone were enough that I didn't find myself impatient for it to end. (And for those who don't know me and how centrally I prize storytelling in any format, let me clarify - that's about the highest praise I can offer.)
Ultimately, I'm surprised to find myself saying I'd recommend both versions to anyone interested in the story. The caveat being, of course, that they're very different works with very different strengths. But I'm glad I wasn't as turned off by the film as I thought I'd be, and if it doesn't quite do the story in the book justice, it's at least a worthy piece of art on its own.
On a more lighthearted note: Much was made at the time of how the Japanese roles were being played primarily by Chinese actors, largely because (thanks to the brief concurrent popularity of wuxia films such as Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) their names were more recognizable to a Western audience. Speaking as a bona fide White Person who truly and honestly can't identify from physical attributes any given Japanese, Chinese, Thai or Korean person, I didn't find the substitutions jarring. I do, however, have quite a bit of experience with Japanese accents, so I had a pretty good idea which actors were Japanese and which not from that alone. Brian, unsurprisingly, could easily tell who was and who wasn't Japanese; when Ken Watanabe showed up on-screen for the first time, he commented "Why, hello there, first Japanese person with a speaking role we've seen in this entire movie about Japan." I snorted.
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