memoirs of a geisha

warning: andy alisago if you are reading this, let go of your frustration beforehand. if you normally think my thoughts are sinking thru a strainer without reason, brace yourself. this is may be worse. much worse.

i saw memoirs of a geisha this afternoon. i could have sat after the credits and watched it for a second time. the reviews were awful, and i am glad that i did not read them before i went to the theatre. for some reason [maybe the negative reviews, maybe any emerging doubts that you will find the movie differently than i did], but i really liked this movie. of course, it was a beautiful movie to watch, but it was more than that. this season, i have seen only a few movies, and i liked each of them: walk the line, narnia, and pride and prejudice [okay, this one disappointed me greatly]. but, i left both of the other two thinking that they were pretty good. but this one was different. i think that there was a lot in this movie that watching a second or third time would get. or talking thru would get. i left the theatre realizing i just watched a movie some viewers will walk away with much and some with little. a boy followed me into the theatre [maybe ten-years-old] while the previews were on and said, "you are gonna love this movie. this is my second time!" i went to find my seat thinking, "what? how old is that boy? he loved this movie?" when i left the theatre, my conclusion about taking in much or little has to be correct at least in part. it was a beautiful movie. the country was beautiful. the people were beautiful. the costumes and makeup were beautiful. the colors were extroardinary. and i thought, "are these the things that have drawn this young boy back to memoirs of a geisha for a second time?" i think it is possible to leave the theatre and genuinely entertain high regard for the film on account of its beauty, but what about the rest -- all of the rest? one thing that i want to comment on is a few lines of narration at the very end of the film when the geisha has finally been united with the man whom she has loved since she was a little girl [hope that doesn't ruin anything]:

one cannot ask the sun to shine more than it does or for the rain to rain less --
just the same, a geisha can never be more than half a man's wife.

think on that for a second. maybe you would have to have to watch the entirety of the movie for those lines to really mean to you what they did to me. or maybe they won't mean the same to you either way, but this actually made me think about a somewhat recent entry on my friend paul's blog. again, this is not what i walked away from in total from the movie, but this is one thought that i wanted to throw out there. go back to paul's entry. and then re-read this: a geisha can never be more than half a man's wife. my question is this: what do we have to offer one another? half or whole? and why isn't this argument enough? why does it seem that the whole world is okay with being half of a man's wife?

this movie broke my heart in so many ways, but it really was beautiful. let me know if you agree.

oh, and a little plug for chattanooga: arthur golden, the writer, yup, born in chattanooga :)