Memoirs of a Gusher
It's that time of year so I guess I may as well take a look at some of the films expected to be in with a shout of Oscar glory. First up, it's MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA.
Let me be totally clear about this before I go on - I do like this movie. I really liked it. Now let's continue and address the "but..." clause that you all expected to be on the end of my previous sentence.
It's been said that many of the best examples of "cult" movies are the ones that become that way accidentally, and that films that deliberately set out to be cult often end up failing miserably. The same, it would seem, could be said for Oscar contenders.
MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA is my case in point. This film tries too hard to be an Oscar-winning movie instead of just trying to be a good movie. Nobody's doubting Rob Marshall's ability to helm a film (as the gongs notched up by CHICAGO would show) but here he just tries too hard with what seems like an endless montage of clips that have been designed to be shown on Oscar night just before someone collects an award.
There's the usual emotional scenes where people burst out crying for any old reason; there are endless shots of people standing against the skyline or in the rain or underneath falling blossom; and there's plenty of up-its-own-arse dialogue (when someone asks you if you are still a geisha, a simple "yes" or "no" is expected, not some half-arsed diatribe about trees and that sort of bollocks).
Even the language seems to be a concession to Oscar glory, or at least if you're a cynic like me. Okay, so the main reason for getting an almost entirely Asian cast to speak English for no apparent reason is box office receipts... but part of me can't help thinking it's because filming it with subtitles would ruin its chances of going for the Best Film award (because as we all know, subtitled films have a category all of their own in order to avoid stealing some American's deserved award). Not that this film is likely to scoop that award anyway.
It's a shame really. The film is still worth seeing but at two and a half hours of directorial showboating on the part of Marshall, it begins to breed impatience. Eventually what is, I freely admit, a joyful, beautiful and touching final scene was, for me, tinged with the dawning realisation that I desperately needed to urinate.
Let me be totally clear about this before I go on - I do like this movie. I really liked it. Now let's continue and address the "but..." clause that you all expected to be on the end of my previous sentence.
It's been said that many of the best examples of "cult" movies are the ones that become that way accidentally, and that films that deliberately set out to be cult often end up failing miserably. The same, it would seem, could be said for Oscar contenders.
MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA is my case in point. This film tries too hard to be an Oscar-winning movie instead of just trying to be a good movie. Nobody's doubting Rob Marshall's ability to helm a film (as the gongs notched up by CHICAGO would show) but here he just tries too hard with what seems like an endless montage of clips that have been designed to be shown on Oscar night just before someone collects an award.
There's the usual emotional scenes where people burst out crying for any old reason; there are endless shots of people standing against the skyline or in the rain or underneath falling blossom; and there's plenty of up-its-own-arse dialogue (when someone asks you if you are still a geisha, a simple "yes" or "no" is expected, not some half-arsed diatribe about trees and that sort of bollocks).
Even the language seems to be a concession to Oscar glory, or at least if you're a cynic like me. Okay, so the main reason for getting an almost entirely Asian cast to speak English for no apparent reason is box office receipts... but part of me can't help thinking it's because filming it with subtitles would ruin its chances of going for the Best Film award (because as we all know, subtitled films have a category all of their own in order to avoid stealing some American's deserved award). Not that this film is likely to scoop that award anyway.
It's a shame really. The film is still worth seeing but at two and a half hours of directorial showboating on the part of Marshall, it begins to breed impatience. Eventually what is, I freely admit, a joyful, beautiful and touching final scene was, for me, tinged with the dawning realisation that I desperately needed to urinate.
posted by Alan at 10:55 pm
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