Lost in Translation (2003)
Truth in the Night:
Scarlett Johansson and Bill Murray Shimmer in Sofia Coppola’s Surprise Hit
Tokyo, nighttime. A limousine travels through the luminous downtown streets, carrying film star Bob Harris. In his mid-50s, his marriage becoming stale, his career flagging, Bob has come to make whiskey commercials—instead of being with his children or appearing in a play.
Charlotte, a Yale philosophy graduate in her early 20s, is in the same hotel. Her husband is busy photographing a Japanese rock band.
Neither Bob nor Charlotte can sleep. Their paths cross as they wander around, both lost in time.
Writer-director Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation is beautifully constructed from impressionistic fragments.
Sometimes Charlotte is alone—at a Buddhist shine watching the art of flower arrangement, on the bullet train to Kyoto, observing a formal Japanese wedding.
While she explores Japanese culture, Bob makes a whiskey commercial with a vociferous Japanese director, poses as a member of the Rat Pack at a photo shoot, and appears on a talk show with a host described as the Japanese Johnny Carson—although Johnny Carson never looked this lurid.
Bill Murray, who has never shown such a raw vulnerability before, is Bob. And the astonishing, husky voiced Scarlett Johansson incarnates Charlotte, the intelligent Yale graduate still searching for her place in life while realizing she may have made a mistake in her marriage. Although Murray could was nominated for an Oscar for his brilliant performance, Johansson was surprisingly overlooked by the academy voters.
Charlotte takes Bob to meet some Japanese friends. On the way back, he sleeps briefly in the cab, then carries her, as she sleeps, to her room. He tucks her into bed and leaves.
The next evening, still having trouble sleeping, they talk in Bob’s hotel room. She first noticed him in the hotel bar.
"You were very dashing," she says. "I liked the mascara"—he was wearing makeup after filming the commercials. He says he saw her earlier in the elevator when she smiled at him.
They lie fully clothed on his bed. She tells him she feels lost. She asks about marriage. She’s asked him before—then his answers were flippant. Now he is completely straightforward, telling her it is hard.
She says she doesn’t know who she is. She tried writing, but she is so cruel. She tried taking pictures—saying it’s a phase every girl goes through. He tells her she should keep writing and adds, "I’m not worried about you."
He tells her that when you have children, it is terrifying, that it completely changes your life, but that they turn out to be "the most delightful people you’ll ever meet in your life."
After this episode of truth-telling in the middle of the night, they lie together on the bed, fully clothed—Bob on his back, Charlotte curled up on herside, facing him.
Her toes just touch his thigh. Bob opens his right hand and places it on her bare feet—it is a beautiful moment of intimacy between two friends.
Lost in Translation glows with the possibilities of what might not be. "Let’s never come here again," Charlotte says to Bob. "It could never be as much fun."
[This review of Lost in Translation is dedicated to Fran.]
—John Bloomfield (9 February, 2004)
Scarlett Johansson and Bill Murray Shimmer in Sofia Coppola’s Surprise Hit
Tokyo, nighttime. A limousine travels through the luminous downtown streets, carrying film star Bob Harris. In his mid-50s, his marriage becoming stale, his career flagging, Bob has come to make whiskey commercials—instead of being with his children or appearing in a play.
Charlotte, a Yale philosophy graduate in her early 20s, is in the same hotel. Her husband is busy photographing a Japanese rock band.
Neither Bob nor Charlotte can sleep. Their paths cross as they wander around, both lost in time.
Writer-director Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation is beautifully constructed from impressionistic fragments.
Sometimes Charlotte is alone—at a Buddhist shine watching the art of flower arrangement, on the bullet train to Kyoto, observing a formal Japanese wedding.
While she explores Japanese culture, Bob makes a whiskey commercial with a vociferous Japanese director, poses as a member of the Rat Pack at a photo shoot, and appears on a talk show with a host described as the Japanese Johnny Carson—although Johnny Carson never looked this lurid.
Bill Murray, who has never shown such a raw vulnerability before, is Bob. And the astonishing, husky voiced Scarlett Johansson incarnates Charlotte, the intelligent Yale graduate still searching for her place in life while realizing she may have made a mistake in her marriage. Although Murray could was nominated for an Oscar for his brilliant performance, Johansson was surprisingly overlooked by the academy voters.
Charlotte takes Bob to meet some Japanese friends. On the way back, he sleeps briefly in the cab, then carries her, as she sleeps, to her room. He tucks her into bed and leaves.
The next evening, still having trouble sleeping, they talk in Bob’s hotel room. She first noticed him in the hotel bar.
"You were very dashing," she says. "I liked the mascara"—he was wearing makeup after filming the commercials. He says he saw her earlier in the elevator when she smiled at him.
They lie fully clothed on his bed. She tells him she feels lost. She asks about marriage. She’s asked him before—then his answers were flippant. Now he is completely straightforward, telling her it is hard.
She says she doesn’t know who she is. She tried writing, but she is so cruel. She tried taking pictures—saying it’s a phase every girl goes through. He tells her she should keep writing and adds, "I’m not worried about you."
He tells her that when you have children, it is terrifying, that it completely changes your life, but that they turn out to be "the most delightful people you’ll ever meet in your life."
After this episode of truth-telling in the middle of the night, they lie together on the bed, fully clothed—Bob on his back, Charlotte curled up on herside, facing him.
Her toes just touch his thigh. Bob opens his right hand and places it on her bare feet—it is a beautiful moment of intimacy between two friends.
Lost in Translation glows with the possibilities of what might not be. "Let’s never come here again," Charlotte says to Bob. "It could never be as much fun."
[This review of Lost in Translation is dedicated to Fran.]
—John Bloomfield (9 February, 2004)
posted by John Bloomfield at 11:31 PM
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