I racconti del cuscino

First of all, let me make one thing clear:

This is not a "movie," not in the normal sense of the word. This is FILM ART. There is a massive difference between the two, and it effects the review of this film.

If viewed as a movie, this film is pretentious, over-visualized, non-plotted...and VERY slow and boring. Nagiko is not a character to be sympathized with (at least not until the very, very, VERY last moments in the film), and all the other characters have no history or background to make them indentifyable by the viewer. Jerome is eye-catching, but not extremely interesting, despite the fine acting of Ewan MacGregor. The fault is not in the actors--it is the script. The viewer is given no reasons to feel anything besides erotisism for the two characters and their plotting together. One is merely thrown into their story, and who can really care for a nit-wit of a girl with a fettish for body art, or a man who is overly vain, sells himself for what he wants, and basically plays games with the people he loves? Alright, there is some sort of interest in the morbid or perverse sense, but beyond that base type of curiousity, there is nothing more involving. In terms of storywritting, this film is absolutely terrible. In many moments, one feels like one is watching glorified porn.

HOWEVER...

As film art, "The Pillow Book" was stunning. The visuals are AMAZING. There is so much beauty in the making of this film, running from the sound of running water to the wonder of the human form. The non-linear aspect of the film gives it a dreamy and surreal quality, as well as a suprising sense of wonder.

There is a sheer erotisism to the film, but it is conveyed (for the most part) in a beautiful and "clean" sort of way. It makes even the minute detail, such as a caligraphy brush or a button, a sensual work of art. Mere "scribbling" becomes astounding and moving--such as the Lord's Prayer written upon Nagiko's body.

The film also includes a cold sense of revenge by way of the Publisher. One can't but feel gleefully satisfied that the man gets what he rightly deserves. And one can almost touch the peace that Nagiko gains for herself in the end.

Now, there are many other messages to be garnered from the film, such as the woman's liberation aspect portrayed, but in this I believe that such musings come almost totally from the mind of the viewer and the associations thereof...many could totally miss such messages in the overwhelming depth of sensuality displayed. Sometimes, a film is just a film; don't give it credit for messages that don't exist. It may be that the director had nothing of the sort in mind. If anything, give it credit for evoking the thoughts from your own mind.

All in all, visually stunning and emotionally evoking...as a work of art. As a story however...it is a dismal failure.

But it is at least worth seeing. Once.

I think Greenaway makes very smart films, and I'm really glad he's around. His intellect is always tuned to ideas about the visual, so we get a double measure: his images and his commentary on those same images. You should see this film if you think about communicating by image -- you won't find more beauty and recursive visual depth anywhere else.

There are a few flaws in my mind, notable only because the film is so remarkable and because Greenaway shoots so high. A central dance here is the art of the writing (its appearance) and how that relates to the art the writing points to (its semantic meaning). So much elaboration of this works so well that I wonder why Greenaway went to such trouble to make the storyline so comprehensible. It is almost as if he is pandering to critics of his less accessible work. This greatly dilutes the impact for me, takes away from the point that the immediacy and fluidity and directness of the presentation by sense at least trumps the recoil by the mind. Perhaps is wholly substitutes. So why make so much sense? So that people will watch who wouldn't otherwise get it?

I wish Greenaway played more with contrasting ritual with spontaneity, especially since the Japan/Hong Kong cultural contrast, the publishing versus modeling contrast (permanent versus faddish), and the promiscuous lovers versus the honored parents all set things up so well. In particular, the soluble temporary nature of the writing turned into permanent tattoos at the end. What of that? It looked decorative only. Her breasts her new pillowbook?

If you liked this film, you'll like the book: `Life: a User's Manual' (Perec) which works the same territory but has a better sense of how to come to an end. The hero spends a decade traveling to paint watercolors. These are turned into jigsaw puzzles which he spends a decade reassembling, rebinding the paper, and bleaching out the image. Each puzzle reflects on a story associated with a room or person in the Paris apartment building he has maintained and populated with unwitting tenants.

The Pillow Book is a rare film that transcends limitations of film and text in a unique handling by auteur Peter Greenaway. Based loosely on the tenth century writings of the imperial court observer, Sei Shonagon, Greenaway brings to the screen a rich visual amalgam that relies on stunning settings, the physical beauty of actors Vivian Wu and Ewan McGregor, and the joy of ancient and modern systems of writing that are the calligraphic arts.

Greenaway's penchant for incorporating art, numbers, books, and architecture in a filmic medium ensure those who enjoy his style will not be disappointed. As a young child, Wu's character has celebrated her birthday's by having her father write the story of creation on her face in a family ritual celebration. However, with adulthood and marriage, her spouse is neither interested nor willing to continue her tradition. Frustrated at her inability to find a lover who is a good calligrapher, or a calligrapher who is a good lover, Wu finally meets a bi-sexual translator, Jerome (McGregor) who offers himself to Wu as a living surface for her erotic creativity. Inspired by the opportunity to obtain revenge on the publisher who blackmailed her father and is Jerome's lover, Wu's character, Nagiko creates the ultimate love poem illuminated in red, gold and black characters and delivered to the publisher on the naked body of Jerome.

The Pillow Book is adult eroticism at it's most sensuous and visual best. It is a story that revels in the binaries of the profane and grotesque, yet delights the eye with Greenaway's ability to translate a vision of love and horror into a singular statement of lush physical beauty and passionate sexuality.

God, what words to use when trying to describe this film!!! Exotic, erotic??? Those are obvious choices that pop right up. Quite a bit of this film is spoken in Japanese, and I usually hate films with subtitles, yet I loved THE PILLOW BOOK. It is sensual, delicate and beautifully executed. The music is mysterious and sexy. The way it is filmed is pure art, like the unfolding of the pages of the book it's about. Nagiko (Vivian Wu) is trying to publish a book written in caligraphy but is rejected. Looking for someone with perfect skin, she decides to use the method of writing her caligraphy onto human skin the way her father did when she was a girl. There is plenty of naked Ewan McGregor to behold, and he gives a fine...ahem...acting performance also!!! Of course this film won't appeal to just anyone, but if you're in the mood for a visually striking, colorful, cultural piece of art film, try this one out.

Like many of Peter Greenaway's movies, Pillow Book features extensive nudity. However, while the plot development is well worked out, the cast is competent, and Greenaway shows off a dazzling array of cinematic techniques, he always seems to approach his material too intellectually to really engage the viewer's emotions. I cannot know his intentions, but my impression is that he regards his scripts as more akin to a complex mathematical puzzle to be worked out than a story about real people with human feelings, leaving the movie worth watching but curiously cool and clinical rather than passionately erotic.