Lost in Translation

Released:  October 3^rd, 2003

Rated:  R

Studio:  Focus Features

Starring:  Bill Murray, Scarlett Johansson, Giovanni Ribisi, Anna Faris, Fumihiro Hayashi

Directed by:  Sofia Coppola

Written by:  Sofia Coppola

Personal Bias Alert:  prone to ennui when traveling, not very interested in visiting Japan

8.8 of 10

            Lost in Translation came along fairly early in my life, when I was just budding into a ‘movie person.’  It was a time when I could still go into a film with few preconceived notions, mostly unaware of a person’s back catalog and trademark ticks.  I knew Bill Murray, of course, but only from his massive comedy hits like Ghostbusters.  It would be a few years before I became captivated by Scarlett Johansson in Ghost World and much longer still before I understood how unusual it was to have an esteemed filmed be helmed by a woman.  Remember, writer/director Sofia Coppola is one of only four women to ever be nominated for Best Director by the Academy and one of only a handful to win the screenplay award solo.  I’m more than happy to know these things now, to bang the drum whenever I get the chance, but part of me longs for the time before I thought about these things, when I could truly be knocked out by how great a piece of work is without qualifiers like “Yeah, but he’s always good.’

            Lost in Translation brings out thoughts like this, remembrances of little moments and things gone by.  The story exists between two people lost in these thoughts, spinning their wheels in an unfamiliar country and finding solace in each other.  Murray plays a washed-up actor who’s come to shoot a commercial while Johansson plays a young woman tagging along with her photographer husband.  To be honest, I’ve never been able to remember these character’s names.  I looked them up and felt no recognition despite finishing the movie a mere ten minutes earlier.  I suppose I simply don’t see them as actual people, but instead identify them as aspects of myself.  I’ve been restlessly resigned like Murray, and I often imagine myself (and wish for the moment) when I can dismissively exclaim “Evelyn Waugh was a man.”  I read on IMDB that the characters never introduce themselves to each other.  Perhaps that means I’m taking them as Coppola wished me to, as a fleeting aspect of my own person instead of full-fledged people.

            Whatever Coppola intended, she certainly created an atmospheric little film.  It shuffles along, taking in the numerous things Japan has to offer with the confused awe of an outsider.  We stare with the characters as a dinosaur lumbers across a building-sized screen, a women pads along in an elegant dress, and the hotel employees pay an inordinate amount of attention to the American guests.  This film is part travelogue, giving people who haven’t gone to this part of the world a taste for the good and bad it has to offer.

            This lackadaisical pace certainly sets the appropriate mood for its character’s introspective journeys.  If ever a movie captured the feeling of ennui that can set in during travel, it’s Lost in Translation.  The two characters are in very different places in their lives, Murray lamenting the way life has settled and Johansson struggling to get it started.  Their inability to fully grasp these problems is one of the many things that’s lost in translation, yet they’re still able to recognize each other’s troubled boredom.  Striking up a quick friendship, they explore the city and each other, taking the time to really listen and allow each other to formulate their grievances.  You get the sense that they’ve both been waiting for someone to shut up and listen, and it probably took being stuck in a place so immobilizing foreign for them to find the necessary time to give each other.

            Very little exists in this film outside of Murray, Johansson, and Japan, and that’s more than enough to make an affecting film.  Murray and Johansson nail every aspect of their characters and the complicated relationship between them.  I remember being entranced by them when I first saw it, then glancing over to see my Mom with a look on her face I didn’t understand.  Now I know it as a look of deep recognition, that the movie must have reached out and touched some aspect of her I didn’t yet know about.  As I’ve gotten older, Murray and Johansson’s relationship has only deepened to me, but I’m sure I still don’t understand as much about it as my Mom did all those years ago.  I’ll wait twenty more years and get back to you on that.

            My quibbles with this film are few and far between.  I’ve always thought that the airhead actress and Murray’s wife were trite and unrealistic.  There’s two scenes where the literal interpretation of lost in translation is drug out into an off-putting joke, and I find the lounge singer’s hair color vaguely unsettling.  Obviously, none of these are significant turn-offs, and what really knocks the score down a bit is how inconsistent my reaction to this film is.  I find that if I go into it with the wrong mood I’m drastically less affected by it.  I’ve never been able to place exactly why that is, but I do think that truly great films elicit strong reactions after every viewing. 

            That being said, there are times when I go into this film with a sense of discontent and find it revelatory.  It captures how sometimes, when you’re in the right headspace, even the smallest gestures can be enchanting and little moments can wedge themselves permanently into your brain.

            Other Notes: 

Ø  There’s a moment about halfway through the film that’s always stuck out to me.  Murray and Johansson are hanging out on his bed, and as Murray leans forward to set down a bottle he kicks his feet up in the air.  It’s an avoidably awkward motion that shows just how comfortable he is with her, and I always find that moment very endearing.

Ø  This was filmed in a quick 27 days, completely opposite the film’s lackadaisical pace.

Ø  Here’s a good article about the lack of female writers recognized by the Academy:  http://blogs.indiewire.com/womenandhollywood/the-big-o-oscar-needs-to-honor-more-women-with-the-write-stuff-20141113