My Geisha (1962)

The greatest stories are based on deceit, and the deepest romances are forged from secret identities (not to mention the lies we tell ourselves). Think of Shakespeare, his plays within plays that illustrate the larger drama and enrich the plot with shades of emotion. Now, I’m not saying My Geisha, an early ’60s postcard from America’s favorite colony is quite Shakespeare…. The premise and characters are tissue-thin, especially Bob Cummings’ infantile playboy straight out of a Doris Day movie. But it does, at times, rise above its hackneyed plot of an actress assuming an exotic identity to fool her husband (and land a starring role in the show), to reveal a complicated dance of egos between man and wife, and the eventual submergence of her identity to provide his greatest happiness.

Shirley MacClaine plays a successful formula comedienne who is sidelined when her longtime director husband (Yves Montand) wants to film an epic version of Madame Butterfly in Japan complete with an authentic geisha as the lead. She is hurt, but realizes the film will be a chance to prove himself as a great director and not just her husband. But without her starring name attached, the studio slashes the budget and his hopeful opus will be filmed in black and white. With the help of the film’s producer and family friend (Edward G. Robinson), MacClaine trains to be such a convincing geisha that she will even fool her husband and save the film, but to protect his ego he can’t know his authentic geisha is really his meddling wife — at least until the film’s premier when her unmasking will spur publicity and probably win her an Oscar.

What seems at first to be a naive, potentially racist “yellow-face” comedy, consistently plays the bumbling, uncultured American card earnestly and often, contrasted with the gentle and dignified Japanese. Uh, that’s Japan-esque, or exotica with an “a” at the end: we don’t for a minute believe that this is an honest example of West meets East! The Japan shown here was the one invented for the American business class, but to most Americans in 1962 My Geisha probably seemed international and sophisticated. It’s stunning photography of Japan, in modern and traditional locations, is an inviting travelogue, and MacClaine plays both uncultured American and tour guide! The factoids are rattled off once she is befriended by a skilled real-life geisha (Yoko Tani).

Puccini’s Madame Butterfly is the grandfather of exotica. Now a century later, it is criticized for its colonialist dismissal of a racially inferior heroine who forfeits her life and her child for her Occidental lover’s happiness (Josephine Baker would epitomize the exotica heroine in her films 20 years later). The opera becomes an allegorical backdrop as MacClaine’s geisha plays Butterfly in the film within the film. Butterfly’s suicide adds perspective and intensity to what otherwise would be a jetset but unremarkable pre-feminist plotline. Watching the film today gives the uncanny effect that you are looking into a scaling time fractal of well-decorated female sacrifice.

In another elevating twist, the title character “My Geisha” is presumed to be MacClaine as referred to by her husband/director, but subtly shifts to Yoko Tani who has become MacClaine’s wise friend and adviser. She gives MacClaine a graduation gift: a fan owned by a famous geisha that reads “No other before you, my Husband. Not even I.” The abruptness of the Geisha’s motto, translated into English, imply the words are a reminder, almost a creed, which she waved daily before her eyes.

Tani’s gentle protocol criticizes MacClaine’s true motives for revealing her identity at the film’s premier. Ironically for a women’s film, MacClaine is at the end of a hero’s journey facing a choice based on what she has learned. Alone in the mirror she uses the fan to mask half her face. With one brown contact and one blue eye she reveals a woman who has become a chimera. Certainly not Japanese, but no longer Western. It isn’t love that inspires her sacrifice, but respect for the identity she created. She taps her inner geisha and gives the Butterfly performance as a selfless gesture.