“The Pillow Book.” Written and directed by Peter Greenaway. Running time: 126 minutes. English and in Japanese with English subtitles. Unrated, though not suitable for anyone under 17 (extensive frontal nudity, sexual situations, adult themes). All shows at the Railroad Square Cinema in Waterville.

Peter Greenaway’s ridiculous new film, “The Pillow Book,” is a visual laxative that will be championed in dim, smoky coffeehouses by dim, smoky, pseudointellectuals. Steer clear of them and of it.

The film, which wants desperately to shock and to be sexy, is as eye-popping as pudding and as erotic as Demi Moore’s buzz cut in “G.I. Jane.” It is a humorless piece of filmmaking whose idea is so absurd, so embarrassing and so laughable, the only tingling you’re likely to feel is one of nausea.

But what else have we come to expect from Greenaway, whose aggressively experimental works include “The Cook, The Thief, His Wife & Her Lover,” “The Draughtman’s Contract,” and the disturbing “The Baby of Macon”? We certainly haven’t come to expect art, though he does lean toward a rather sinister and uninteresting avant-garde style that many confuse as art. The problem with a Greenaway film is that it is never as innovative as he would like his audiences to believe. He puts images on the screen that, while sometimes beautiful to look at, are never truly meaningful in the context of the film. They amount to nothing, and become so annoying that by film’s end you want to slap them down like bothersome bees.

Having said this, I feel as though I’ve played directly into Greenaway’s hands, as I have no question that his only point in making films is to be provocative and to get people talking. To that end, Greenaway succeeds superbly. But when film history is written 100 years from now, I wonder whether historians will view him as the maverick artist he wants to be, or, more likely, whether they will consider him at all.

With “The Pillow Book,” Greenaway takes the idea of Sei Shonagon’s original pillow book, which was a gossipy, sexual account of court life in the 10th century, and turns it into a Jacobean drama of hatred and revenge.

Set in Hong Kong and Kyoto, Japan, the film follows Nagiko (Vivian Wu), whose father (Ken Ogata), an exploited writer, painted poems on Nagiko’s face when she was a child. The impact this ritual had on Nagiko was apparently profound, for as an adult, she seeks out only lovers willing to paint beautiful calligraphy on her naked body. It is the strangest of fetishes, but Nagiko can’t seem to have sex without it, so she bullies ahead to find men willing to accommodate her.

The film falls apart when Nagiko begins writing her own pillow book on the bodies of men, including Jerome (“Trainspotting’s” Ewen McGregor), with whom she falls in love. But when she learns that Jerome is also having a homosexual affair with a publisher who twice caused her great grief, Nagiko enacts the silliest of revenges — which, typical in a Greenaway film, leaves several dead by film’s end.

This film only ever works when it borrows from Kabuki and Noh theater, which wed their stories with ancient layers of style and tradition. Greenaway does this visually with calligraphy, and sometimes the effect is interesting.

Too bad his film wasn’t.

Grade: D-

Video of the Week “Evita”

Unless you’ve read the countless biographies that have appeared in the wake of Alan Parker’s visually stunning film, “Evita,” you might not be aware that one of Eva Peron’s favorite pastimes was sucking on those expenisve baubles Juan Peron lavished her with during their gaudy reign in Argentina. That’s right, she’d pop her diamond rings in her mouth and suck on them as if they were candy.

Unfortunately, this film — which was gorgeous to look at in theaters — suffers on video because it was not letterboxed. This seems to me an unbelievably stupid decision on the studio’s part, as the video is nowhere near as grand as the film version, which I liked very much. Instead of showing the actors against Parker’s richly detailed sets, we get extreme closeups of Madonna, Antonio Banderas, Madonna, Jonathan Pryce and Madonna. With the constant panning of the camera, it all becomes a little dizzying.

Still, you should rent the film. Madonna won a Golden Globe for her sterling performance as Eva Peron, and she deserved it. She is very good here, and gave the performance of her life, which is no surprise as the parallels between Eva Peron and Madonna are striking. Each lost a parent at a young age; each was a bad actress in bad movies; each rose to international stardom through sheer grit and determination; and each was a bottle blonde. With the gap in Madonna’s front teeth sealed, it’s eerie how much they look alike.

Further, Madonna sings beautifully and passionately here. She breathes new life into the repetitive songs of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice, not an easy feat, considering the material she had to work with. Who else could have turned “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina” into a remixed top-10 dance hit, and then help Webber and Rice win an Academy Award for their song, “You Must Love Me”? Only Madonna.

But it is Antonio Banderas’ performance as Che Guevera that is most remarkable. Banderas sings surprisingly well, his dark, commanding presence is reminiscent of a young Sean Connery, and we get to see him on screen with the woman who single-handedly made him a star.

I suppose the success of this film will spur an onslaught of historical movie musicals. Beware, moviegoers. Margaret Chow’s “Imelda!” and Rosie Perez’s “Juanita!” may be in the works.

Grade: B+

Directed by Alan Parker. Written by Parker and Oliver Stone.

Rated PG (mild language and violence).