"Show it, don't say it" – so goes the Hollywood screenwriting rule that strips Sayuri (the movie's titular geisha, played by Ziyi Zhang) of her voice and justifies Marshall's decision to offer audiences this bit of sumptuous Asian pageantry without the tools we need to interpret it. As Westerners, our limited understanding of this unique Japanese art form, in which select women are permitted to train in the arts of dance, shamisen and elegant tea service, proves our greatest obstacle to fully appreciating a film that is already being unfairly attacked by critics for its purported inaccuracies.

"The geishas have been sexified for Western consumption," writes Carina Chocano in the Los Angeles Times, citing the disappearance of "traditional stark white faces, rouged lower lips against white upper lips, shaved eyebrows repainted high on the forehead and matronly bouffants." Golden's meticulously researched novel, of course, explains these common misconceptions (the painted face and lips are the sign of a maiko, or apprentice, not a proper geisha; the "shaved eyebrows" and "matronly bouffants" are inventions of the Western imagination). Meanwhile, the movie, like so many other Hollywood historical studies, expects us to intuit the nuances of an unfamiliar culture by observation alone.

Then again, that's what the book is for, and Marshall's Memoirs achieves something few other high-profile literary adaptations do: Rather than simply inspiring us to hunt down the source material, it actually stands alone as a film, rich in drama and star-crossed romance. Frigid by design, the movie comes alive in hot flashes as the story's central geisha, compelled by jealousy, rage or passion, find it impossible to hide behind their inscrutable façades any longer.

That these emotions translate despite the evident language barrier is a testament to the cast (the heavily-accented English has the unfortunate effect of diluting the characters' obvious intelligence, although each of the actors is a master of subtle nonverbal cues). Their combined talents make Memoirs the season's most formidable ensemble, more than justifying the controversial decision to go with a largely Chinese cast.

With the exception of Gong Li's over-the-top turn as Hatsumomo (Sayuri's chief rival and one of the all-time great villains in recent literature), each performance functions as a study in carefully measured restraint. Consider the many levels of Michelle Yeoh's Mameha, the "older sister" who agrees to train Sayuri, once her many secrets are known. Marshall does right by these formidable women, and, in a classical Hollywood touch, he crafts stunning introductions all around. Too often nowadays, lead characters merely saunter on screen, but here, the first appearance of each character is a thing of awe.

That's no doubt a carryover from Marshall's theatrical background, which further manifests itself in the film's pace (it runs well over two hours) and his penchant for reveling in production details (the kimono alone are works of art). Though Memoirs' cultural context is entirely foreign, this treatment functions as a classic variation on the American Dream – no one questions that the daughter of a lowly Japanese fisherman can become the district's most famous geisha and still feel entitled to her own destiny. Marshall's approach is simultaneously accessible and exotic, a breathtaking introduction that exposes without spoiling a world of carefully guarded mystery.

[as featured on Premiere.com]