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Memoirs of a Geisha

I had such high hopes for Memoirs of a Geisha even though I hadn’t read the book on which it was based. I’d heard nothing but good things about it, though, and the trailers made it look so interesting and so pretty. Plus, you can never go wrong with Hot Bad Guy Ken Watanabe, right?

Well, you can if the poor guy is only in the movie for ten minutes. Here’s the Short Story: poor family sells daughters. One ends up in what I think is a whore house. The other is a servant for a house full of geisha. The main geisha doesn’t like her and proceeds to torture the poor kid. Kid gets kicked out of geisha training school, but eventually another geisha decides to train her. She becomes successful, Mean Geisha goes crazy, there are parties, then a war. (Probably WWII, but who knows?) Good Geisha ends up as a personal courtesan to the man she’s been in love with since the Incredibly Illegal Age of about 11. Movie ends.

Sure, it’s really pretty. But who cares? Sure, it’s an interesting aspect of Japanese culture. But who cares? And that’s the main problem with the movie. It didn’t make me care about any of the characters. Did I care if Good Geisha ended up with the Chairman at the end? No. What was he Chairman of, anyway? Can an 11 year old fall in love with some guy who buys her a sweet ice and stay in love for her entire life? Only in cheesy movies, I fear, unless Japanese sweet ice is way better than anything we have in the States. But really, this movie is only impressive as background noise. Save yourself the two hours and go read the book.