The Pillow Book (SPOILERS)
Richard Milton
As the merits of Peter Greenaway have been discussed here
recently, I watched the TV showing of "The Pillow Book" and have
tried to give more point to my criticisms of his style in
the following review.
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SPOILERS * SPOILERS * SPOILERS * SPOILERS * SPOILERS * SPOILERS
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First the good things about "The Pillow Book". As usual, Peter
Greenaway provides a feast of sensual and dramatic visual images.
He manages to evoke not only colour, shape and sound, but even to
suggest smells and textures -- almost a textbook model for new
filmmakers in mood and setting.
The film centrally concerns a young woman protagonist
who, as a child, participates regularly in a ritual where her
father paints her body with calligraphic ideograms. When she
grows up, she derives fetishistic pleasure from having her body
written on and, ultimately from writing on the bodies of others.
There is a deeply implausible story line in which her poetry is
rejected by the first publisher she tries, with the observation
that her work 'is not worth the paper it is written on'. To get
even with the publisher, she embarks on a convoluted scheme
involving her calligraphy fetish, which leads her to write her
work on the body of Ewan McGregor -- shagging the young lad
senseless at the same time.
There are many pleasantly erotic scenes -- both those that deal
explicitly with sex and those that equate sex with calligraphy
and body writing, although I didn't feel the need for a box of
Kleenex tissues as one recent poster told us he does on these
occasions.
Partly because of these striking images and partly because of its
eastern settings (in China and Japan) the feeling of the film
resembles "The Last Emperor". It resembles this film also in
being rambling and episodic.
Because he consciously rejects conventional narrative and
screenplay structure, Greenaway is compelled to improvise other
means of telling his story. But rather than being modernistic or
futuristic in his improvisation, the means he uses are as ancient
as the No play. Denying himself narrative and structure,
he is compelled to fall back on repetition.
There is a profound price to be paid for this conceit in terms of
the viewer's patience. In conventional screenplay structure the
filmmaker can convey his/her meaning in just three brush strokes
-- beginning, middle and end: setup, development and resolution.
But when all you have is repetition, you have to hammer your
point home many more times to be sure it sticks. If Greenaway
shows us his young protagonist having her body painted with the
name of god once, he show us the ritual ten, fifteen, twenty
times or more. In the end, even the arty attics of Hampstead must
have been twitching over the channel change. If "The Simpsons"
had been on another channel, it would have been no contest.
There are other repetitive banalities. The protagonist is
inspired by a medieval courtesan who wrote a pillow book. But
rather than poetry, this lady filled her diary with lists. These
ancient lists have the merit of referring to poetic objects ("To
pass a place where a baby plays"). Our protagonist emulates her
list-making but is devoid of poetry ("Anything indigo"). One is
compelled to sympathise deeply with the publisher who rejects
this subjective drivel. But the point is that it is Greenaway's
drivel. Greenaway's screen character has passed judgment on his
own writing.
It is no coincidence that "The Pillow Book" centrally concerns
artistic materials becoming sexual fetish objects.
I can picture Peter Greenaway sitting, looking
at, caressing, almost masturbating, over the intense
magical beauty of both calligraphy and the materials and
instruments that produce calligraphy -- the cakes of ink
with their centuries old designs; the bamboo pens; the
official imperial seals with which each painting is signed,
the stone wells in which inks are ground, the virginal
white parchment. In the hands of an expert craftsman,
these sublime instruments create the highest achievement of
the human mind -- eternal truth in the accidental stroke of
a butterfly's wing. While in the hands of the untutored,
these same austere instruments produce only bitter
self-reproach and recrimination, the sorrow that the
cripple feels when watching a couple dancing on ice skates.
The cripple is Greenaway. And the instrument he cannot master is
not the bamboo brush but the Panavision camera. He is like the
apprentice who can produce a beautiful cherub to decorate an
empty corner whenever there is an empty corner to be filled, but
who will not or cannot devote the years of hard graft needed to
become a master craftsman, able to transcend the subject matter
and produce great works in any space, any material, anywhere.
In any case, Greenaway's lofty artistic aims soon break
down when confronted with the hard realities of film
making. He declares his intention of rejecting narrative,
but it is not long into the film before the protagonist
begins to narrate her own story in voice over. She (or
rather Greenaway) is compelled to resort to this for even
the most banal details ("I had to get a job") because he
simply has no other way of conveying these things to us on
film.
There are several scenes which demonstrate unmistakably
Greenaway's lack of craftsmanship, despite the gloss of
'perfection' over his carefully constructed tableaux. A boom
microphone is seen bobbing in shot, for example. Surely this
must have been seen in editing? And if re-shooting was too
expensive what about CGI?
The dialogue sometimes verges on the hilarious. Sample: 'I need
writing. Please just take out your pen and write on my arm.'
For some time I puzzled over why Greenaway had set his tale in
Japan and made his protagonist Japanese. At first I thought it
was to explore little-known aspects of Japanese culture, but he
doesn't do this. Nothing is explained; things are merely
presented to us like a box of chocolates. Eventually when the
protagonist's poetry is rejected and she conceives her plan to
get even, it came to me. The story is set in an unfamiliar
culture because if it were set in, say, England or America, it
would at once be seen as so preposterous as to be laughable.
I watched the film with a growing sense of dissatisfaction.
Partly this was because of the repetition and lack of structure
but there was a deeper reason. With "The Pillow Book" Greenaway
has scratched the surface of what I believe is an important
subject that is one of the last taboos and which has not been
done adequate justice in either novel or film -- the subject of
female sexual fetishism.
The only films I know of that begin to address this taboo subject
are Percy Adlon's "Sugarbaby" with Marianne Sagebrecht, and
Bunuel's "Belle de Jour" with Catherine Deneuve. In "Sugarbaby"
the sexual fetish is food and being fat, which are more or less
socially "acceptable", while Catherine Deneuve's desire for the
whip both pandered to men's fantasies and was depicted in Walt
Disney terms.
Greenaway has taken an important subject which deserves to be
explored sympathetically and failed to do anything with it.
Women do not come because someone writes poems on them in felt
tip pen. At least, they don't in Tonbridge.
Richard
IMEL
this.
Let me just say this a final time. You very obviously do not understand
Greenaway's approach. You can't see beyond a very limited style of
filmmaking and assume that anyone who doesn't make films "in the narrative
tradition" is rebelling against that tradition. That is not the reality. The
reality is that there are many different approaches one can take to the
medium of film. I'd love to hear your reaction to Goddard's Weekend.
Greenway communicates through images and emotion. Narrative is secondary.
He's not rejecting it, he's just giving it secondary status. To analyse his
plots for inconsistencies and credibility is ridiculous and naive.
The fact that you don't get Greenaway's films simply means that your brain
isn't organised to accept his form of communication. You may be brilliant at
maths or tracking sounds, but you can't read images. Why is that so hard for
you to accept? When so many intelligent, educated people appreciate and
understand Greenaway's films you look belligerent and jealous when you
dismiss them so summarily. Why can't you simply say that while they have
their merits, they aren't to your taste?
Your conclusion that The Pillow Book is about, "the subject of female sexual
fetishism," is as sad and silly as your conclusion that Titanic is the
finest film made about class. Fetishism is only one of many tools Greenaway
uses to communicate the deeper meaning of the film. It's literal, on the
surface. It's plot, not theme. Do you know the difference between plot and
theme? Do you understand that Titanic was about breaking free from social
and personal shackles to live life freely according to one's own nature? The
trite, simplistic portrayal of class differences (poor people are feisty and
honourable while the rich are greedy and corrupt) was merely a tool to bring
out the greater theme.
Thus in The Pillow Book the calligraphy/sex was a tool (one of many, I find
it interesting that you focus on that one in particular) to bring out the
numerous deeper themes. Among other things The Pillow Book is about the
interaction of the past with the present, the influence of history, the
sensuality of the concrete and the ethereal and their interaction. It's
about taking control of one's own life and sexuality.
You complain about the repetition of the face painting scenes. This
indicates that you weren't able to read the way each scene meant something
different. The progression was vital to the meaning of the film. Nagiko
begins as a passive recipient of her father's love and beauty and by the end
of the film she's a painter/poet herself and has integrated her past into
her present and taken control of it. She's exorcised her demons and
discovered adult love as opposed to using sex to fill the whole in her
psyche left by her father's betrayal by the publisher.
By the way - The Pillow Book was inspired by the real pillow book of Sei
Shonagon written in the 10th century. That's why the film takes place in
Japan and Hong Kong. That's where the lists (which I found beautiful and
inspiring. I'm sorry you're unable to find the beauty in the colour indigo.
I find it almost meditative. In fact, if you can't see why that detail was
included than there's no way you'll get this film on a higher level.) come
from.
Right. I've got real work to do.
Ilana
Fred Taylor
uk.net> writes
>
>
>Greenaway has taken an important subject which deserves to be
>explored sympathetically and failed to do anything with it.
>Women do not come because someone writes poems on them in felt
>tip pen. At least, they don't in Tonbridge.
>
>
>Richard
>
>
>
--
Fred Taylor
D C Harris
<im...@alilana.clara.net> wrote:
Well, Richard, I could practically hear you giggling with
glee as you wrote
this.
(snip)
D C Harris writes:-
I *have* to come out for Richard
here Imel. As to the masterpiece
in question I enjoyed too the guest
appearance by a microphone - it beats
Plan 9 from Outer Space - where you
could see the characters reading the
scripts under the table.
My two cents - theatrical film should
provide a cinematic experience - it
should absorb and enthrall the audience
however wet the night, however dingy
the Odeon. My view on Greenaway is that
he has gifts as a photographer but
not the sweetest bit of understanding
of cinema. His films are like recordings
of not very successful stage plays.
I would contrast his work with say -
Peter Weir. In Picnic at Hanging
Rock, a not short film, a few Oz schoolgirls
and a teacher climb up a large rocky
protuberance, and vanish mysteriously. A few
days later one of the girls turns up with
no memories of what happened. The story
is quite minimal and must be largely
incomprehensible to an average audience -
who perhaps would not know of the true incident
on which the film is based. The film succeeds
because of its genuine cinematic flair - it exploits
the full aural and visual resources of a cinema.
The engaging narrative rhythms of the film
emerge from a genuine gift for story telling,
the characters capture the imagination in that
they are real beings rather than palpable figments
of the imagination. Greenaway promises
such experiences but for my money does not really
even begin to deliver. I would rather have Ken
Russell which is saying something.
Agree to differ on this one Imel!!
Gary Pollard
>Well, Richard, I could practically hear you giggling with glee as you
wrote
>this.
>
>Greenaway's approach. You can't see beyond a very limited style of
>filmmaking and assume that anyone who doesn't make films "in the
narrative
>tradition" is rebelling against that tradition. That is not the
reality. The
>reality is that there are many different approaches one can take to the
>medium of film. I'd love to hear your reaction to Goddard's Weekend.
>
>Greenway communicates through images and emotion. Narrative is
secondary.
>He's not rejecting it, he's just giving it secondary status. To analyse
his
>plots for inconsistencies and credibility is ridiculous and naive.
I think the mention of Godard is very apposite.
Most of Greenaway's films are about the artist, the process of art and
artistic examination of the world, and about signification. About form
and content. This is made very clear in his early films and even in "The
Draughtsman's Contract" where it is in the drawings that a murder is
delineated while people are unaware of the clues in reality.
They're not that hard to "get" on that level, although even a little
understanding of semiology helps set you on the right path.
Gary
IMEL
instead of just quipping.
>D C Harris writes:-
>
>I *have* to come out for Richard
>here Imel. As to the masterpiece
>in question I enjoyed too the guest
>appearance by a microphone
I'm still not convinced of this. Which scene was it? I taped it and will
look for it although I've seen the film twice and don't remember seenig any
microphone. There were a lot of kitchen implements haning from the ceiling
and some intentional microphones during the fashion show scenes. But which
scene was it?
>
>My two cents - theatrical film should
>provide a cinematic experience - it
>should absorb and enthrall the audience
>however wet the night, however dingy
>the Odeon.
The Pillow Book did all this for me and more. I was totally entralled,
absorbed, moved, provoked, etc. I forgot I was watching a film. I completely
entered into the world he created.
My view on Greenaway is that
>he has gifts as a photographer but
>not the sweetest bit of understanding
>of cinema. His films are like recordings
>of not very successful stage plays.
Because why? The Pillow Book was far too energetic and cinematic to seem
like a stage play to me. There was an element of the tableu in certain
scenes but I think that worked with the subject matter and general style of
the film.
>I would contrast his work with say -
>Peter Weir. In Picnic at Hanging
>Rock, a not short film, a few Oz schoolgirls
>and a teacher climb up a large rocky
>protuberance, and vanish mysteriously. A few
>days later one of the girls turns up with
>no memories of what happened. The story
>is quite minimal and must be largely
>incomprehensible to an average audience -
>who perhaps would not know of the true incident
>on which the film is based. The film succeeds
>because of its genuine cinematic flair - it exploits
>the full aural and visual resources of a cinema.
Haven't seen this film yet although I know I should. The thing is, I also
think that The Pillow Book exploited "the full aural and visual resources of
a cinema." Greenaway's use of sound and music was amazing. Appropriate and
powerful. It enhanced the theme and mood of each particularly scene without
overwhelming or forcing emotion on the audience. When I pictures scenes from
the film in my head I can hear the music that was playing in the background.
His use of music and sound was perfectly integrated with his use of visuals.
>The engaging narrative rhythms of the film
>emerge from a genuine gift for story telling,
>the characters capture the imagination in that
>they are real beings rather than palpable figments
>of the imagination. Greenaway promises
>such experiences but for my money does not really
>even begin to deliver.
In The Pillow Book, at least, the characters aren't meant to be gritty, real
humans. They are somewhat symbolic, although they also worked for me as
complex characters. I actually felt that The Pillow Book explored human
psychology in much more depth than your average film about
love/history/memory/sex. It spoke truth instead of slogans. And truth is
often better communicated sensually and emotionally rather than literally.
I would rather have Ken
>Russell which is saying something.
>
>Agree to differ on this one Imel!!
Yes, agree to differ. :-)
Ilana
Johnny Deadman
style in general. Ilana's defence sounds like special pleading to me, with
respect. Richard is not filmically blind. Honest.
In article <71pbh0$h56$1...@eros.clara.net> , "IMEL" <im...@alilana.clara.net>
wrote:
>I'd love to hear your reaction to Goddard's Weekend.
Here's mine: tripe.
--
Johnny Deadman
Richard Milton
Fred Taylor wrote:
>In article <17...@milton.win-uk.net>, Richard Milton <ric...@milton.win-
>uk.net> writes
>>
>>
>>Greenaway has taken an important subject which deserves to be
>>explored sympathetically and failed to do anything with it.
>>Women do not come because someone writes poems on them in felt
>>tip pen. At least, they don't in Tonbridge.
>>
>>Richard
>>
>>
>Try Sevenoaks.
Well I tried it last night Fred, and damn me if it didn't
work after all.
Richard