Today's review: Lost In Translation
Starring: Bill Murray, Scarlett Johansson
Written and Directed by: Sofia Coppola
Rating: 4.5 (out of 5)
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The Naked Critic
See the
trailer here:
First, a word about the Japanese:
My good friend Rob Payne (also a phenomenal author...at the end of the review
I've included links to his books.) spent a year teaching English in Japan. Now,
I'm as fascinated as the next fellow with Japanese culture. Not in some
condescending "Aren't they WACKY?" kind of way...more in amazement
about how our cultures can be so different.
What I've been especially fascinated with is the apparent Japanese love of
vending machines. You wouldn't believe some of the crazy shit I've heard you
can buy in Japanese vending machines. Especially jeans. I mean, buying blue
jeans out of vending machines? Aren't they WACKY?
So I decided I wanted - nay, NEEDED - a pair of jeans purchased from a vending
machine. I emailed Rob and begged him to send me a pair. He said he'd see what
he could do.
This was going to be GREAT! At this point, I didn't even care if they fit...in
fact, I was hoping they didn't, just so people would ask me about them:
DUDE: Hey man...your jeans...
ME: Yeah?
DUDE: Like...they don't FIT, man.
ME: Yeah, I know. What do you expect when you buy jeans out of a vending
machine?
DUDE: You bought those jeans from a vending machine?
ME: Yup!
DUDE: (After a moment of shocked silence) Whoa. Cool.
Alas, it wasn't to be. To cut a long story short (for a change) Rob emailed me
back. "Sorry, dude. I couldn't find jean machines anywhere. So I asked my
students about it, and they'd never even heard of a jeans vending machine. They
now refer to you as 'Rob's Disturbed Canadian Friend.'"
Great. Now TWO cultures think I'm insane. And this was coming from a guy who
lived a few doors away from Japan's Ramen museum. That's right...an entire
MUSEUM devoted to $0.33 soup.
The point is, Japanese culture is fascinatingly weird. And that's what is at
the center of Sofia Coppola's brilliant "Lost In Translation", a
movie that proves once and for all that Bill Murray can act.
Here, Murray plays Bob Harris, an American movie star in Tokyo, to film a
whiskey commercial. It's a little-known fact that many Western stars travel to
the East in order to make big bucks hawking useless crap, without the fear of
being labeled a sell-out like they would in North America. Brad Pitt has
endorsed coffee, cars, and Rolex watches. Cameron Diaz was a pitchwoman for an
English school. Even Jennifer Lopez has shot Japanese ads for Subaru, which is
fitting because, from what I can tell, she's about one more flop away from
doing American long-distance ads with Mr. T and Carrot-Top. (Check out
www.japander.com for a ton of celebrities whoring themselves for the almighty
yen.)
So Bob's there, but he's unhappy. As he puts it, he's getting $2 million bucks
to do a commercial instead of doing a play somewhere. He's alone in a foreign
land, surrounded by strangers and a culture he can't even begin to understand.
If I were him, I'd be combing the streets looking for vending machines that
sell jeans. But instead, he spends his nights unable to sleep and drinking
heavily at the hotel bar. Maybe we're more alike than I thought...
But he isn't the only American in the hotel. Also there is Charlotte (Scarlett
Johansson), who's in town with her photographer husband John (Giovanni Ribisi).
While John goes off gallivanting around Japan taking pictures of rock stars,
Charlotte sits in her hotel room, (instead of combing the streets of Tokyo
looking for vending-machine jeans) listening to self-help CDs and wondering
what she's supposed to be doing with her life. Maybe WE'RE more alike than I
thought...
Finally, perhaps picking up on each others suffocating depression, they strike
up a friendship. Finally, they have someone else to experience this seemingly
insane city with. Both are married, and both are incredibly unhappy with their
marriages. But they're also both too noble to act on any impulses they might
have. Although this may have to do with their age difference, there's nothing
paternal about the friendship they forge. Always there is an undercurrent of
longing.
Wow. Doesn't sound much like a comedy, does it? Well believe me, it is.
I really hesitate at giving any more of the plot away, especially the ending
(Although Roger F***** Ebert has already destroyed that for everyone. Thanks
Roger!). Partially, that's because I think everyone deserves to see this movie.
But also because, really, there's not much more to it than that.
This is a slow, quiet movie. But it's not "The Dancer Upstairs" slow.
Director Sofia Coppola (who continues to atone for one of Hollywood's worst
acting performances ever in "The Godfather 3") has created a movie
with surprisingly little dialogue. However, not a single, solitary frame of
film is wasted.
An aside: As I said, this is a quiet movie. Very quiet. However, at about the
midway point, the theater was interrupted by the young woman sitting alone in
the row ahead of me. This dainty flower of femininity cut loose with the
biggest, loudest fart I have ever heard in my life. This was one that she'd
likely been saving for hours. You know that kind you get when you're in a
meeting or something, and then you clench and hold on to it, the pressure
building in your lower stomach until you can get to a safe area and finally let
go? One of those. The acoustics of a movie-house being what they are, it echoed
beautifully. Obviously not realizing that this particular sphincter-giggle was
going to have the decibel-level that it did, she immediately slunk down in her
seat, which really only proved her guilt. Most people probably would have
blamed me.
I'm a mature, dignified adult. So, naturally, an event like this would normally
have me giggling like a 3 year old for about four hours. However, I was in the
middle of watching "Lost In Translation", and the thought that
immediately went through my mind was "Ugh. How crude. I'm trying to watch
a movie!"
Then I realized that I hadn't actually missed anything, and that I was reacting
like a country-club snob over a fart. I then proceeded to giggle like a 3 year
old.
Because, folks, you will not want to miss a second of this movie.
It IS quiet. But quiet in a good way. Coppola may be a natural talent behind
the camera, or she may be getting pointers from her husband (the brilliant
Spike Jonze). Whatever the case, in this movie you don't need a lot of
dialogue. So much of it is characters reacting to what is around them,
bewildered, lonely, and, well, lost.
But to build a film on these merits, you need actors that are up to the task.
Bill Murray wouldn't normally come screaming to mind, but thank you. Thank you,
Sofia Coppola, for giving him the role. Murray is the best he's ever been, and
owns, positively OWNS, every scene he's in. We saw glimpses of it in
"Rushmore", but nothing could have prepared you for THIS Bill Murray.
He's old. He's weary. And in every scene he's in, he just looks sad. Beaten by
life. He's lonely...his wife seems to be more pragmatic partner than soul mate.
And worst of all, he positively loathes himself, especially for selling out
like this. And Murray tells us all this, not with dialogue, but with his face.
This is acting at it's very finest. And whether he's staring at his
whiskey-selling image with despair, or singing Roxy Music's "More Then
This" at a karaoke bar, looking at Charlotte with amazement that he could
be having this much fun again, he never, EVER has to say it...it's all
there.
One telling scene appears in the trailer, so don't accuse me of spoiling it
(see how you do this, Roger? This not-spoiling-the-movie? It's easy...try it!):
At one point, Charlotte, after a night of partying and trying to make the best
of the situation they're in, rests her head on Bob's shoulders. Bob hesitates
for a brief moment, unsure what to do, and finally just folds his hands on his
lap. There are many moments like this in the movie, and each one is just as
powerful. You want to scream at them for not giving in to their instincts, and
at the same time glad that they don't.
As for Johansson, she's wonderful as well. I'm under strict orders from my
girlfriend not to go on and on about her. She thinks that I spend far too much
of my reviews talking about the actresses and discussing how hot they are. So I
won't tell you how purely, sadly beautiful Scarlett Johansson is in this
picture. I won't...
...resolve....breaking....
She's beautiful. Holy snappin' crap, but is she beautiful. Not hot, not sexy,
but beautiful. And the movie opens with a shot of her ass lovingly encased in
translucent pink panties.
I'm in big trouble now.
In fact, all of the performances are great. Ribisi as John and Anna Fairs as
the vapid Hollywood star Kelly are both great. But the movie belongs to Murray.
I don't think I'll see a better performance this year, so what do you say we
start his Oscar campaign now?
But it's not all longing and depression. It's hysterically funny at times. The
scene with the commercial director is priceless, and one scene with Murray in a
hospital waiting room is so damn funny that even the extras were laughing.
See this movie. That's all I can say. If your local f***-you-plex has three
screens showing "Underworld", complain to the manager and GET THIS
MOVIE IN THERE.
One last thing...that scene at the end...the one that Roger spoiled? I won't
spoil it, except to say this: it's not a mistake. It's not bad sound. It sounds
like that on purpose, and I personally can't think of a better, more fitting
end to it.
And now, as promised, links to Rob's books. Buy them! Hey...I'm a shill too!
Yet another thing Brad Pitt and I have in common!
Live By Request
Working Class Zero
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