Lost In Translation
You know, Tokyo seems like such a beautiful city, peaceful and tranquil at times (as in the opening scene), yet so much more technologically advanced and civilized than much of the rest of the world, that one day, with lots of money and the right girl, I wouldnât mind paying it a visit someday. Yet, if all I wanted was a travelogue, I would have looked elsewhere other than Sofia (daughter of Francis Ford) Coppolaâs 2003 directorial endeavor (showered with praise and awards at the time of release), since despite the fact that it featured two charismatic stars in what could have been an intriguing premise, it doesnât change the fact that the film has literally no story to speak of, and just runs all the way through with that basic premise that these two characters meet and get to know each other a bit. Bill Murray stars as Bob Harris, a once-big movie star now slumming along by going to Tokyo to film a commercial for a popular brand of Japanese whiskey, and Scarlett Johannsson plays a beautiful, married young woman accompanying her photographer husband (Giovanni Ribisi) to the country where he is there to take photos of some pop band. The fact that he ignores her and takes her for granted is obvious the few times he is onscreen, and thus she wanders around the hotel and the city basically looking for anything to hold her interest, which is how she meets Murray (who seems to have a lot of down time from his commercial obligations). The fact that both characters are bored and restless is conveyed well by Coppola, almost too well, as the early scenes of them manage to convey that bored and restless feeling to the viewer as well. Once they meet, and begin to bond, they start to spend more time together, enjoying the Tokyo nightlife and hanging out in their hotel rooms late at night watching movies because they canât sleep. As someone who has also traveled to a strange place (LA) for business obligations, I could emphasize with that aspect of the story of having trouble sleeping and thinking that I just want to do what I have to do so I could be done and go home, but the then there is the pesky matter of actually having a story to go along with that feeling. The script and directing come off as rather listless, with no true conflict or narrative drive to move things along, while Murray uses a seemingly ad-libbed series of observations to make Johansson chuckle and she seems to feel that sheâs discovered some sort of father figure, if not a romantic partner. As such, the lack of a physical relationship between the two can be seen as âdaringâ and âunconventionalâ by some, but at least it would have given the story some zip as opposed to pretty much just standing in place. As a result, the filmâs biggest attempts at âhumorâ are reduced to different Japanese people speaking in their native tongue to Murray and Johansson with the two having no idea whatâs being said and trying to play along, but that idea gets so repetitive thatâs itâs almost to the point of monotony. Obviously, it goes without saying that Johansson is a beautiful girl with great screen presence (the opening shot of her butt says it all), so she certainly makes things watchable, and a legend like Murray need make no apologies for whatever type of film he wants to do (and managed to garner an Oscar nom here), but whatâs most distressing is that with the exception of a scene with the two of them laying in bed talking about life, thereâs little to no insight in the (Oscar-winning?) script about what really makes them tick, instead substituting a series of scenes with them doing stuff together while smiling at each other. Worst of all is the ambiguous ending in which Coppola does the ol âman whispers something in womanâs ear but we donât hear whatâs saidâ bit, when perhaps letting the audience in on the twoâs true feelings for each other before saying goodbye would have provided some emotional closure for the viewer. Overall, proof that the big movie awards donât always get it rightâŚ
5/10