Memoirs of a Geisha

First and foremost you should understand that Memoirs of a Geisha is one of my favorite books and when I got it I read it 3 times almost back to back. So I had highly anticipated the arrival of the movie. Maybe I had a lot of expectations, and my disappointment was a result of that. But I don't think so. I think that the movie industry has become a money grubbing machine of crap that just spews and spews endless excrement. I think they saw an intimate "memoir", fueled with imagery that was vivid enough to be seen even without a screen. What they didn't seem to see, however, is the most important thing of all: the methodical, purposeful use of every word and every moment. You can't take a book in which everything has meaning, and condense it into nothingness. You can't, but they did. Let's begin.

A brief history of the book for those of you who haven't partaken (by the way: READ IT!): Memoirs is the story of a young girl, Chiyo, from a small fishing village whose father sells her and her sister into the slave like Geisha life. She is sold to an 'okiya' where she is schooled for years on how to sing, dance, and play the shamisan, as well as speak, dress, apply makeup, put on the very elaborate kimono and obi, and to beguile the gentlemen they will entertain. (Don't get this wrong: geisha are not prostitutes. They are like escorts, they are to be looked at and watched, and they talk and entertain. If a geisha is adored enough by a particular man, he will become her 'danna', and she will be for him alone and he will pay all her expenses and will keep her well. Its a complicated tale. She is a slave to the okiya, and owes them all her expenses, to be paid back when she works as a geisha. She will owe them her costs for her schooling, food, even the cost of what they paid for her. ) Chiyo's okiya is home to Hatsumomo, her antagonist, an evil, jealous woman who does all in her power to bring poor Chiyo down. And Pumpkin (a nickname) a little girl of the same age who came a few months before Chiyo who will also train to be geisha.
She meets the Chairman, falls in love with him and spends the rest of her time trying to be a geisha that he will fall in love with. Chiyo is 'adopted' for training by Mameha, a renown geisha and Hatsumomo's arch nemesis. Mameha decides the Chairman won't work for Chiyo (whose name becomes Sayuri when she becomes geisha) and decides her future relies on Nobu, a gruff man who was debilitated in the war and has only 1 arm and horrible burns all over his face.
That's as much as you need to know. Now lets rip this bag of crap apart.

They hollowed out all of the characters so badly you don't care about a single one of them. In the name of expediency they took carefully cultivated relationships and subtle nuances of character, and cut gaping caverns in them that are so wide they are impossible for the viewer to cross. The Chairman becomes less of a mysterious character that alludes her throughout and becomes just another Hollywood love interest. Her relationship with Nobu, a delicate but powerful relationship with astounding complications, becomes another nuisance on her road to the Hollywood ending. An ending, might I add, that they also change for the movie. Hatsumomo was supposed to be a villainess for the ages. Like a samurai sword, a work of art indeed but dangerous and cold. In the movie, she is a disheveled slag. Psychotic and reckless. And Pumpkin becomes just another sub-plot.

My biggest problem with this movie, is that they took the term "based on the book" and stretched it to the nth degree. Based on the book? Bitch, please. They added things that never happened in the book, but not little things, huge things! Like Hatsumomo burning down the okiya. Never happened. They took out major dialog of such importance to the storyline that my husband, who has never read the book, spent half the movie scratching his head and saying "What's going on?" My answer: "Hell if I know." They hacked apart major plot points and character relationships so badly they were unrecognizable, and consequently made poetic dialog seem like over dramatized tripe. It all ended up with the feel of being man-handled. Awkward at best.

The only thing this film had going for it was the same reason it won an Oscar for cinematography; its absolutely stunning. Frame for frame it is a work of art. Flawless color, lighting and movement. But what do you get when you take something that should be slow and deliberate and intelligent, and simply give it a pretty face?

Like Paris Hilton's head. Beautiful and empty.

Memoirs of a Geisha gets Joon's worst movie rating: You sons-of-bitches. I wish I had a time machine simply to stop this movie from ever being made. Ever.

Tim Burton's Corpse Bride

Ladies and Gentlemen, Tim Burton:

"Today I’m introducing my newest stop motion animation masterpiece, Corpse Bride. You may be wondering, Tim, how could it possibly be as good as its predecessor The Nightmare Before Christmas? To which I answer It couldn’t, and its not. Thank you for coming, and have a good night!"

Did that sum it up for you? Because it should. Let me start by saying that I expect a lot from Tim Burton. A lot. He’s a fucking genius, okay? Did you see Big Fish? TNBC? We’ll ignore Batman for now, but what about Edward Scissorhands? Come on! The man has more gothic creativity in his pinky nail than in Rob Zombie and Anne Rice combined. And that’s saying a lot.

Let’s start with the cast, shall we? For the most part, he did decently this time around. For the most part. I think he faltered a little by having an all-star cast because they don’t all have all star voices, but Helena Bonham-Carter did way better than I expected her to as the title character. The English actors piled up like keys in a bowl at a swinger’s party and that was cool. There were not one, but 2 actresses from one of my all time favorite shows Absolutely Fabulous (Patsy and Bubble). However, and this is a big “however”, Johnny Depp? Bad idea. Now I wouldn’t go so far as to say that dear Johnny should be seen and not heard, though he isn’t hard on the eyes is he ladies (and gentlemen of that persuasion)? He is in fact a pretty good actor (see Edward Scissorhands, above). But to voice this character he, for some reason that only god and Johnny know, raised his voice an entire octave. The voice is so overacted and effeminate that its almost difficult to separate his character from just being the voice-of-a-really-girly-Johnny-Depp. Do you follow? Moving on.

The plot? This sucker's got more holes than a colander. Which brings me to the question I was faced with on a smaller scale with The Nightmare Before Christmas: who is this movie for? In TNBC it didn’t matter, because adults and children alike could enjoy it. My 2 year old son was obsessed with it. I was obsessed with it. Everyone wins in that situation. But the problem with Corpse Bride is, its not really for anyone. The morbidity is up a notch and a half from his last movie, it has drunks, and a 19th century theme that would go way over the head of any child. How many kids do you think knows what a chaperon is anymore? But at the same time the plot is so watered down that no adult could really get into it either. The biggest problem with the plot is that its not really funny, or sad, or exciting; its not really anything. What's the point of a movie that doesn’t make you feel anything except a vague sense of still being impressed with stop motion animation? The plot is predictable at best, and the circumstances under which the main character, Victor, comes to be “married” to said bride is, at best, a stretch of ginormous proportions. And to top it all off, the music sucks. Come on, Danny Elfman. I know you can do better. I know every word to every song on TNBC by heart. You could have squatted and dropped this stuff in the ditch out back.

Which brings me to the characters. Granted, I wasn’t able to get too attached to the characters in TNBC either. Alas, that is Burton’s fatal stop motion flaw that he mysteriously does not possess in flesh and blood cinema. The corpse bride, Emily, is likable, which is the saving grace of this movie. Otherwise you wouldn’t give two shits about any of it. And when she’s pissed, get out of the way cause bitch is wicked awesome. Then there’s Victor and Victoria, and no they aren’t the same person, but I wish they were because that may have been more worth watching. They were, however, both bumbling, soft-spoken pussies with giant emotionless eyes that made me want to blink profusely (see picture).

There were some good parts. I don’t know if “good” is the right word. Let’s see, “interesting”? No…I know: “not an inhumane disappointment of epic proportions”. There is a piano duet between the bride and Victor which is lovely in a way that makes you stop and watch. There is a musical number with skeletons that, if you can ignore the music, was really creatively choreographed. It was like the pink elephants montage in Dumbo, only all the elephants are dead and the acid is laced with a little, I don’t know, meth. And the ending, which true to form I will not reveal here, involving the Bride’s ascent, is pretty damn neat.

So. Nutshell time. Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride gets the Joon rating of Huh…Because I expected better from people who have to go through months of painstaking, perfectly planned work every hour of every day. Everything is picked apart so thoroughly. How could you miss all this? You didn’t, I’d wager, and shame on you for that.

Constant Gardener

Spoiler Warning.

Let me start this review with a letter I am fully intent on sending:

Dear Focus Features,
I just watched Constant Gardener, and first and foremost I must say “Bravo for releasing the first film from your company in a million years that isn’t dominated by pointless scenes of people staring. Jolly good."
I would also like to thank you for releasing a movie that is kind of like Hotel Rwanda (a damn good movie in and of itself) but with caucasian heroes, which is kind of weird and squeamishly unpleasant if you think about it. It makes you glad you don’t live in Africa while at the same time thinking Why the hell are there parts of the world like this? Tell me the solution so I can fix it. Good job casting, by the way. Ralph Fiennes did such a good job of playing a huge pussy driven to courage by guilt and anger. Seriously, if he had rolled over in the face of indignity one more time I would have stabbed my eyes out with a pen. Rachel Weisz: faaaabulous. Every cheeky comment she made to stuffy, overly important men made me happy a little inside.
I was so glad you filmed on location in Kenya. How else would you have done it, I guess, but all those real people made it cut so much deeper. The little children, the young mothers. Sigh. What’s that solution again?
I also liked the sex collages. It really made me think of cool sheets and soft skin, and not the stinky sticky sweatiness that sex usually is. Well done.
Things I hated: The teasing. Breast feeding the black baby? Could you please make my heart ache a little more? But it was all a farce, wasn’t it? The “marriage of convenience” talk. Damn you for making me doubt Tessa. Damn you. I also hated the way that you showed Ralph Fiennes just shifting his eyes around a lot. We get it. He was confused and distraught. Don’t belittle his ability. Did you see the English Patient?! Well, I didn’t, but he did get nominated for an Oscar for it! He didn’t actually win, but that’s beside the point. Its demeaning, damn it! I also could have done without the whole “crucified-guy-with-his-own-detached-manhood-in-his-mouth” thing. Could have gone my whole life without that mental picture, thanks.
Long story short, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the sadness, and the grossness. I enjoyed the paranoia I shared with Justin. However, I didn’t walk away from it like I did with the other movies that it seemed to be reminiscent of, like Hotel Rwanda, or Schindler’s List for that matter. I walked away from those movies aching for change. For a time machine, or insurmountable cosmic power. This made me sad, a bit queasy, but in the end I didn’t feel what I know that I was supposed to feel. Maybe that’s me, and not you. But I don’t think so.
I promise to forgive you for ever so slightly missing the mark if you will please never make another Broken Flowers.

Sincerely,
Joon

Joon gives The Constant Gardener the rating of Huh…because I just wasn’t blown away. And damn it, I expect cinematic perfection. Especially for a movie that is supposed to impart such human importance.

Waking Ned Devine

This week's movie review is for an oldie, but a goody, Waking Ned Devine. I had never seen this before but a long time ago a very trustworthy source told me it was one of the best movies he had ever seen, so I had to give it a try.

Admittedly, I am a total movie snob. To the nth degree. If it isn't entertaining to perfection, it might as well be invisible. For instance, the movie Crash. Liked it. Totally got, and agreed with the theme. However, when rich black lady (played by Thandie Newton) goes on a swearing rant, for some reason the dialogue rubbed me the wrong way and I couldn't get into it completely after that. And I loved her on ER, and in Interview with a Vampire, so I don't know what the hell, but I snobbed it up and I have no shame. So back to my point.

I really liked this movie. There is nothing, and I mean NOTHING cuter than naked little old men. Just chillin' and ridin' their mopeds and takin' a dip. You know, whatever. I love the village they live in and it makes me want to be a totally stinky pig farmer just so I can live there. I love the accents. But I could have done without some of the farty dialogue (I use the word farty a lot. Its a very versatile word, don't you think?) and maybe just a tiiiiny bit less wrinkled booty.

Lets get specific, shall we? Resident old farts Micheal and Jackie, two lottery hounds to begin with, find out their old friend Ned Devine, in a village of only 52 residents, has won a very substantial lottery. Unfortunately, (and isn't that just Murphy's Law) he gets so psyched that he keels over. Sad. But the movie isn't really about the money, is it? Isn't it really about the village rallying together like a big family to better the lives of everyone there? To share in what one member, in passing, did for them all? Isn't it about life long friendships, and love, and how much more important they are then money? The ending tells it all and more. When Mummy says her son is kin to Ned Devine (otherwise thought to be without relation), and asks, "What does my son need more, 7 million pounds, or a father?" and really also means, "And I totally love Pig Finn and, oh yah, and who would want to leave here?" I say who indeed? Certainly not I. (Then rotten old lady's telephone booth is plummeted off the cliff, and I said good riddance in a very nonchalant way that might mean I have no soul but I'm ignoring that. Bitch had it coming. )

I love the feeling that I'm left with. That Ned Devine did the best thing he could do for anyone in his life, in his death. He solidified a family of 51 souls. That no matter what money they might have, that I could enter that tiny village today, and not a stone or piece of moss would have changed. Well, maybe more carefully tended gardens, more music hanging in the air. Wouldn't it be loverly?

I give Waking Ned Devine the Joon rating of Pretty Damn Cool. I wouldn't have given it the Oscar, but I'm glad I watched it. It makes the idea of money vs life completely different. And that's really what it is. Money vs. Life. Those are two separate things. Have you noticed that lately?