`The Pillow Book' Is Soft On Narrative Substance

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XX 1/2 "The Pillow Book," with Vivian Wu, Ewan McGregor, Yoshi Oida. Written and directed by Peter Greenaway. Egyptian. 126 minutes. No rating; includes nudity, sex scenes.

Notorious British director Peter Greenaway (the inflammatory auteur behind "A Zed and Two Noughts," "Prospero's Books," and, perhaps most controversial of all, "The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover") has studied as a painter, and his work continues to reflect that sensibility.

Like his other films, "The Pillow Book" resists being thought of in anything other than visual terms. There simply aren't any narrative coins under the pillow.

What story there is: When Nagiko (Vivian Wu) was a child, her father painted birthday greetings on her face. At night, her mother read to her from a thousand-year-old pillow book - a sort of diary - that was written by a woman also called Nagiko.

The adult Nagiko is addicted to the joy of having words painted onto her body and gets cranky when she can't find an excellent writer/lover who is up to the task.

Finally, for a slew of reasons, including to honor her father and fulfill her destiny as a woman named Nagiko, she begins her own career as a writer, using men's bodies.

There are many extraordinarily beautiful things here - a naked body turning cartwheels to reveal text hidden inside thighs and under arms, the gorgeous black and white photography of the

childhood sequences, the pictures within the picture. There is even an altogether unexpected moment of raw emotion supplied by her translator/lover Jerome (Ewan McGregor, the star of "Trainspotting" and "Brassed Off").

But finally the film just isn't very interesting, let alone engaging, and, at its worst, is simply too silly to appreciate on even a visual level.

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