Memoirs of a fabulous book...
After finishing the book Memoirs of a Geisha this evening, I was eager to watch the movie. I've had it for a few days from Netflix, waiting for me to finish up the novel. Tonight, I popped it in.
Sigh. What an empty portrayal of a great book. Once again it is proved to me beyond a doubt that good descriptive writing will beat montage movie-making every time. This was one of those full-to-bursting books that would have made a fabulous mini-series, like Lonesome Dove. There was simply too much information to put into a cinematic release. They tried to shove in as much as they could in 2 hours, but only managed to make the story jumbled and rushed. They gave you no time to come to care about the characters - no one is fleshed out in any meaningful way. The whole story seems impersonal somehow. Not at all as passionate and real as the characters in the book are written.

Oh well. I do this to myself every time. This was not even close to the worst I have seen - remind me some time to tell you the story of the wretchedly vomitous movie called "Simon Birch."