The Memoirs

Surely I am one of the last men in Malaysia to watch the movie all of us have been waiting for. Well, one of the last gay men around anyway - since I believe very few red-blooded heterosexual men could be persuaded to sit through a two-hour chick flick. What isn't there for a gay man to love? Bitchy catfights, devious intrigues, lavish costumes, amazing cinematography.... everything that attracted me to Rome and now to the shady, oil-lamp lit alleys of the hanamachi in pre-war Japan.

Just like any other chick flick, the cinema was filled with gaggles of schoolgirls and schoolmarms, along with a handful of overly devoted couples ( with the male half looking oddly discomfited! ). It was with some trepidation that I walked in alone - it's actually been some time since I've gone to the movies alone - since Big Bicep Barry gave a sad rigmarole about being late after getting caught up with urgent paperwork. For some indescribable reason, a single man strolling into the cinema apparently draws even more attention than I imagined - so it was with some relief that I slipped out later to hand Barry the ticket, shove him into the darkened cinema and proceeded to give him a lecture on tardiness as he innocently munched his way through his dinner of popcorn and mineral water.


Let's have some civilized tea before we go out for some hair-pulling, knee-biting catfights wth Hatsumomo...
What can I say? Despite the oddly jarring accents and the occasional oversentimentality, I actually found myself loving the movie, even far more than the book that I read almost a decade back. The movie tells the bittersweet rags-to-riches tale of a village girl who finds an inner strength to claw her way up the proverbial geisha career ladder. A dubious honour at best but we all live with our own dreams. The recent Pride and Prejudice might have shown a far more passionate love ( and a far superior hero in Delicious Darcy ) but I doubt anyone could possibly compare with the three main actresses in Memoirs of Geisha who played their roles to the hilt. Especially the incomparable Gong Li who shot her deadly poisonous glares with a delicious wickedness surely unseen since Lady Macbeth.

Still, rather than delighting in the brashly muscular Koichi or the unfortunately stiff, two-dimensional cardboard Chairman, isn't it odd that I found myself transfixed by the scarred yet oddly touching character of Nobu played by Koji Yakusho - a far more endearing character surely! Don't recall feeling so much for the character in the book but I found myself reluctantly admiring Nobu for his ideals by the end of the movie. It is really true though that love is in the eye of the beholder after all.

Barry : You liked that scarred man? Nobu?
Paul : Yeah. Daft Sayuri should have gone for him.
Barry : Not the charming Chairman? Not that half-naked Koichi you were ogling?
Paul : Is that weird?
Barry : ( with a shrug ) Never expected it of you, that's all.

Was it actually that weird? Good God. Have I been typecast! :O