Film
Sofia Coppola could be forgiven for feeling somewhat under the shadow of her immediate relations. Having aborted an acting career, she made a statement of intent from behind the camera with The Virgin Suicides, a promising yet forgettable directorial debut that hardly suggested she had inherited the kind of genius that yielded cinematic milestones like The Godfather Trilogy and Apocalypse Now. All the while, her then husband Spike Jonze was making waves with Being John Malkovich. With Lost in Translation however, she has not only shown talent to rival her father and her estranged husband, but also displays ability to rival anyone in Hollywood.
Lost in Translation is a truly exceptional film that skilfully evades the most stereotypical aspects of romantic comedies, not least in the fact that it doesn't suck. It follows the relationship of two Americans reaching very similar crises at very different points of their lives who find comfort in each other amidst the madcap rush of Tokyo.
Bob (Bill Murray) is a washed-up actor filming lucrative Whisky commercials, much to the annoyance of his artistic conscience, whilst Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) is a young and attractive Yale graduate accompanying her hotshot photographer husband on a business trip.
Bob's 25-year marriage, much like his career, is tired and past its best. Charlotte is facing a similar crisis, left unfulfilled by her workaholic husband just two years into her marriage. The restless pair come together in the hotel bar late at night and increasingly find that they are able to fill the void left in each others lives by their fading marriages; an effortless relationship develops as they immerse themselves in the foreign surroundings together. Although there is an undeniable sexual chemistry, it does not cloud their connection, and their shared chastity makes for an intimacy and tenderness that Richard Curtis could only dream of.
The characters are portrayed wonderfully by the lead pair, and while Johansson shows great promise, it is Murray who steals the show. A magnificent comic actor, he revels in the part, effortlessly dousing every scene with humour and charm as Coppola's permissive style of direction lets him loose, and he's a true joy to watch. It is to Coppola's credit that she produced a script worthy of his ability, and at the same time a film worthy of the family name. A fine counter to the typical sugar-coated vomit-inducing rom-com, Lost in Translation is a heart warming tale, and has set a standard that few will reach in a calendar year that is just one week in.
Harvey Pekar is a file clerk at the local hospital. He spends his days filing and his free time collecting Jazz records. Bored and uninspired, Pekar is jolted into action when a good friend, Robert Crumb, begins to make the big time writing comics. Out come the pencil and paper - the comic strip American Splendor is born. In an attempt to go beyond the limitations of traditional fantastical comic strip writing, Pekar's anti-hero is the product of snapshot reflections of his own monotonous life.
The film has been ingeniously constructed and chiefly uses narrative sequences - actors playing out scenes from Pekar's life and laced with comic strip style intermissions - interspersed with documentary footage of the real-life personalities and of Pekar's actual appearances on the David Letterman show. The latter two elements add immeasurably to the film's clout and bring authenticity to characters that otherwise could be somewhat beyond belief.
There is a danger in attempting to combine reality so closely with fiction, as the latter will always struggle to match up with the former, yet Paul Giamatti has savvily captured the combination of the real-life Pekar and the comic strip character to come up trumps in his first lead role in a major film. There are other notable performances from Hope Davis as Pekar's wife and Judah Friedlander as the film's resident geek.
It would be tempting yet unwise to describe to describe Pekar as a no-hoper. Despite having wittily and successfully captured the essence of his Cleveland existence in his comics, there is no denying that he is still a most unappealing man. This film is likely to divide its audience into those who will rapidly become irritated by a morose, slobbish, bum-scratching whinger and will end-up wanting to stick that missing 'u' right where it hurts. There will also be those who will be able to brush all of that aside and find a film which is well acted, produced, directed and - most importantly - entertaining.
The trailer for this film filled me with initial reservations: it seemed like a Tom Cruise ego-trip from the off. The actual character played by him, however, was not as glorified as one might have feared.
A veteran of the American Civil War, and latterly part of the US Cavalry's programme of ethnic cleansing of the Native Americans, he has grown bitter and disturbed by the murderous ways he has been forced into. Having lost himself, he easily drifts into a job in Japan, training the new Imperial Army. In a typical display of capitalist greed, the industrialist effectively in charge of this army forces an unprepared offence against the renegade Samurai, a battle which they lose and in which Tom Cruise is captured by this fearsome enemy. In these primitive people he finds hope, love and a richer way of life.
The transition is convincing to some degree, but not terribly gripping. Whilst the pensive recitation of pseudo-profundities is occasionally broken by some interesting swordplay, the desire to show the enlightenment of the soul of the warrior in Cruise's character leads to some stylistic techniques, which mar the action.
Ken Watanabe's Samurai overlord has a certain presence, but he also serves to highlight the weakness of Cruise in his role: one suspects that the famed Cruise ego has lead him to take on more than he can artistically handle. The final battle is a showdown bracketed by talk of Thermopolae (evidently meant to be evocative of such courageous stands). This ultimately seemed to evoke the Charge of the Light Brigade and the last stand of Custer - itself vilified in this film - and is led on to certain death by the ego of Cruise's character and the arrogance of traditionalism.
15th Jan 2004