
Just a few weeks ago, I revisited the Pillow Book on DVD just to see hif it stood the test of time. I hadn't seen it in several years, but my reaction for the first time was not favorable. I had grown an uneasy relationship with the Pillow Book and Peter Greenaway, but I should have trusted in its ability to withstand repeat viewings as over the years, this is a film that I've probably seen dozens of times. I used to see everything I could by the English painter turned experimental auteur, but recently, I've found his work to be excessively cold, pretentious and often slightly nauseating. After that most recent home viewing, the film lost its standing in the pantheon and I was a bit mystified by my previous adoration for Greenaway.

While the visuals of The Pillow Book are unforgettably sensual, the use of sound is every bit as experimental. During this viewing I was struck by how the use of sound distinguished the major movements of the film. Nagiko's childhood was enveloped in the sounds of a traditional Japan (voices of Buddhist monks, Japanese court music) and those of her childhood home, specifically an old popular Chinese song that her mother always p
layed. Nagiko's exodus from Japan was filled with the noises of the city, jets flying overhead, and loud club music. Finally her return to Japan and revenge combines some of the music earlier in the film, but also uses classical music. I've always been struck by the impact of sound, but this viewing I was particularly struck by how unusual it is, not just in the musical choices, but in the way that sounds often overlapped one another just as Greenaway has overlapped the visuals. And again, the languages heard are just as diverse as the text that scrolls across the screen. Jerome, the translator, is not the only character with fluency in multiple Eastern and Western languages and Greenaway must have an aethetic ear, since there are several portions of the film where Japanese is spoken, but never subtitled allowing for the experience of just listening to the rhythm of the language.

So thinking I had been overly impressed with this film in the past, due to not yet having seen so many other great films, I began to see the weaknesses in Greenaway's films. The acting is perfunctory, the characters are in no way representations of people and therefore difficult to relate to, and the allusions are so plentiful and often obscure and overly academic. But these weaknesses are really just a difference in the filmmaker's approach and values. The actors are little more than bodies and voices that are used to add sound and movement to Greenaway's cinematic canvas. The characters are not meant to be realistic as Greenaway has a preference for allegory over realism. So while I have trouble connecting to the majority of Greenaway's films, the Pillow Book remains my favorite film. Here is a stunningly painted allegory of love, writing and revenge that shares my personal fetish for the written word as an object of beauty and sensuality. Yes, indeed, I still am completely in love with every frame of this film, even the ones that I have not yet been able to figure out why they were included, but I'll just keep looking at it until they do.
The Pillow Book (1996) trailer

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