"Lost" is right

Rating: 2/10 (4 November 2003)

This is a textbook example of how a film with a good first act can completely
collapse during the critically important second act -- and never recover. Sofia Coppola's minimalist "romance" desperately tries to distance itself from its more traditional, romantic forbears ("Brief Encounter," "An Affair to Remember," "Summertime," etc.) In so doing, Coppola effectively torpedoes what might have been a memorable, slice-of-life relationship picture (a little more Woody Allen and a little less Antonioni could have helped), winding up with a sterile, often dull portrait of two lost souls searching for some sort of connection. Sure, she may have avoided sentimentality -- but she also missed out on emotion, on magic. On passion. (See Paul Thomas Anderson's
"Punch-Drunk Love" for a great example of how to incorporate all three.)
The trouble begins with the opening shot -- an unflattering angle of our female protagonist, Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) that director Coppola evidently hoped would launch her picture in an un-glamorous, European, Godardian way. But what's the point? Introducing the female lead by showing her ass? If a guy had done it, he'd be labeled "sexist." But a woman? No problem. The more ass shots, the better -- and in this film, there are quite a few.
After this artsy-fartsy beginning, we're introduced to Bob Harris (Bill Murray). With scant dialogue and many sad-eyed looks, we get the basic picture: unhappy American actor goes through the motions of promoting Japanese booze to make a buck. In other words, he's sold out (the premise possibly inspired by Woody Allen's hilarious vodka ad bit from the '60s) -- the artificiality of his assignment echoing the superficial qualities of his life. (Simultaneously we see the shallow relationship between Charlotte and her phony photographer husband, John.)
This is where the movie works. In sparse, documentary style, Coppola gives us a sad portrait of Bob Harris: coping with a loud, Samurai-type director, being asked to impersonate the "Lat Pack" for a still photographer. He is truly in hell, and we feel for him. Murray has never been more sympathetic. The lounge lizard from "Saturday Night Live," the wisecracking Ghostbuster or any number of Murray's other wild, free-spirited characters are gone -- replaced now by an overly made-up, sad-eyed clown, a movie star past his prime, a depressed prisoner of fame, making dough instead of art, being coaxed into
ridiculous poses while holding a glass of iced tea masquerading as Japanese whiskey.
These moments, including one where Harris's wife faxes him a diagram of a shelving unit, are excellent, directed with subtlety and restraint. The vapid conversations between Harris and his wife recall the "Happy Birthday" scene from "2001: A Space Odyssey;" Bob is as bored with his wife's remodeling plans as Frank Poole is with his parents' news from Earth. A quick glimpse of Harris glumly watching one of his old movies on T.V. -- in which the young, handsome Bob, speaking in dubbed Japanese, interacts with a chimp -- is priceless. At this point, I truly believed I was watching a great film.
Half an hour later, the movie -- like Harris's career -- crumbles. After a few chance encounters where Bob and Charlotte flirt tentatively at the hotel where they're evidently both staying (though this concept -- like many others -- is not clear), the realism ends, and -- bang! -- we're aware we're watching a movie. These two strangers, who have never introduced themselves to each other (never mind exchanging room numbers), suddenly begin behaving like a married couple. Bob strolls into Charlotte's room, whips off his tee shirt, and chit-chats like he's known her half a lifetime. Did I miss something? Suddenly, the hesitant strangers are talkative pals. And just as suddenly, the movie -- for me, at least -- ends.
The downward cinematic spiral continues with a hodgepodge of "having-fun" scenes, filmed in sloppy, Dogme 95 style (amateurish handheld shots using existing light). Many of these make no sense, among them: Murray breaking out of character and singing karioke, and Johansson donning a blonde wig (which disappears several scenes later).
The rest of the second act is a complete disaster in which nothing happens. In the third act, we get a half-assed, boy-loses-girl bit: Bob is caught by Charlotte with a woman in his room (completely superfluous, causing no impact to the story whatsoever). A character revelation where Bob tells his wife he's more interested in healthy eating than picking carpet samples is randomly thrown into the mix, nullifying its impact (see "American Beauty" for a great example of how to do this type of thing properly)
SPOILER WARNING***

The ending, which could have worked in a funny, bittersweet, "Annie Hall" kind of way, falls especially flat. Bob whispers something into Charlotte's ear -- but Sofia "Cop-out"ola, in typical young-filmmaker-trying-to-be-profound style
-- obscures the dialogue, so we're left to wonder what the hell he said, and what the ultimate point of their relationship was (maybe the line was so bad Coppola eliminated it, maybe she was merely trying to be artsy).

Either way, open endings are one thing, characters' final lines another. The audience is free to use its imagination to speculate on what will happen to Rick at the end of "Casablanca" -- but not because "Here's looking at you, kid" or "We'll always have Paris" are obscured. On the contrary, these lines are crucial to understanding Bogart's character, his emotional state, and they give the film its resolution. Well, at least we can be thankful Coppola didn't work at Warner Brothers in the 1940s.
"Lost in Translation" was a good idea for a film, but Sofia Coppola's inexperience as both writer and director shows. Check out the final shot: after the credit crawl, there's a badly filmed, out-of-focus image of a woman waving to the camera. It's the final nail in the director's home-movie coffin, once again leaving no doubt she's a novice. If proving this point was Coppola's intent, she's succeeded.