Misguided

Rating: 5/10 (28 March 2020)

When I first saw Sofia Coppola's "Lost in Translation" I was at university, I was idealistic and everybody saw me next Tuesday. People loved it (the film I mean); but a friend of mine told me he walked out of it. But most importantly, at that stage of my life I was an emerging Japanophile, who had never been to Japan, and in all actuality knew very little about the archipelago beyond a few computer games and having seen an above average number of Japanese films for a British person.
But that was approaching two decades ago, and I'm now much more Japan-wise, having been a number of times, eaten ramen and know how to spell "konnichiwa" in both romaji and hiragana. It's been a number of years since I last watched Coppola's most regarded film to date - I can't remember when - and now older, the things that I always knew about the film are still present (perhaps now heightened). And while it has a certain charm, there is far more to dislike about this film than like.
One thing I'd have probably changed about the film, is that I'd have made far more references to Japanese people being short in the opening ten minutes. The second thing I'd change is that I'd make far more references to Japanese pronunciation of R/L when speaking in English. When you watch an old, beloved TV show, you might find yourself surprised to find out-dated references to race/sex/gender which you'd forgotten and couldn't believe they were part this show you loved so much. But Coppola throws it out there straight away, packing as many casually racist elements into the first half hour as possible. As a film that so many refer to when discussing films set in/about Japan, there is very little of a Japanese perspective on show.
All Japanese characters are peripheral, have few lines (beyond cheap gags) and merely serve our western leads. They far from have a voice. While still faltering perhaps, more recent crossover works, such as "Isle of Dogs" or "Giri/Haji", at least give the impression a Japanese person has been consulted before the script was finalised, and indeed even gave the Japanese cast some Nihon-go to speak. Here, the Japanese simply smile and politely laugh when the Americans speak and tryout a Japanese word (ironically probably pronounced incorrectly). If Scarlett Johansson's Charlotte spending half the film in her underwear is an ironic statement against the portrayal of women in cinema, all that work is undone by its treatment of the locals.
Japan itself is also given short shrift in its portrayal. Little is shown of Tokyo beyond the obvious neon lights. At a time when tourism to Japan wasn't quite as high as the booming numbers of recent years, this gave the image of Japan that westerners wanted to have (and indeed Japan promotes): cool Japan, with bright lights and huge cities of skyscrapers; but also where the modern meets the old, with a temple thrown in here or there. This Japan is strange, exciting, crazy, like being on another planet. But what do we really see of it? The majority of the film is set in the hotel where our two leads temporarily reside, before quickly running through some neon-lit streets and pachinko parlours. Though this is perhaps true of much modern day travel.
Going outside into the real world is shown as an escape, rather than exploring; and Charlotte's tears that she went to a temple and didn't feel anything state more about her sheltered life than the culture in which she finds herself. Reading Donald Richie's "The Inland Sea", he describes how parts of Japan are "very attractive to a heritage-starved, history parched American," and one can see that this search for a meaning beyond is not a new problem.
In an interview at the time of release, Coppola comes across in the same way as Johansson's Charlotte: someone seemingly unsure as what they really want to do with their life because those around her have afforded her the freedom to do so. A philosophy graduate with no direction, Charlotte spends the film wandering and wondering, somehow thinking she will find meaning in something. This is a notion Coppola executes well: modern day tourism as a vain attempt at immersing oneself in a culture, while we constantly crave home comforts. Travelling to another country won't give you the answers to finding yourself. Despite its imagery, this is far from a love letter to Tokyo, with the world of Japan largely gazed from the other side of a window, detached.
Bill Murray's Bob is a man who has lost control of his own life, taking orders from his distant wife and agent. He, like Charlotte, has become a person with little to do each day and has regressed into the role of a child sneaking out for some fun. The struggles to cope with adapting to life in Japan parallel their struggles to adapt to a new life stage for both: Bob now a washed-up, out-of-work, middle-aged actor; Charlotte a young woman entering the real world without the necessary tools. What place do they have in this new world? Finding each other as kindred spirits in these life crises alleviates this holiday ennui.
The supporting roles, namely Charlotte's husband John (Giovanni Ribisi) and Anna Faris as his casual acquaintance Kelly, are airhead products of MTV with little or nothing to really say and are obvious plot pieces to make Charlotte's plight seem all the more deeply rooted in her life. How and why has she found herself here?! While not the most likeable leads, Johansson and Murray do play them well, Murray the stand-out in a role that reinvigorated his career. Everyone else, however, is a little caricature.
The film has a certain mood, a well-worked one, which is aided by the soundtrack, which is probably the film's strongest element. "Girls" by Death in Vegas plays as Murray enters Japan with a sense of coming up for air, drowned in the city's bright lights. When first arriving, you are entering a world of new sounds, sights and smells. Air's "Alone in Kyoto" is another standout, but one feels that perhaps some Japanese artists could have been afforded a place on the soundtrack.
This mood also makes the film somewhat re-watchable - even if it took me years to watch it again - and there is a certain charm to it. Perhaps it's the atmosphere of Tokyo which westerners want to hold true, before having actually been there. A bit like a break in a nice hotel, it flatters you and is a nice break from reality, but sooner or later you find yourself wanting to return to the real world.
This is a Japan of stylish photography and pretty pictures; of cultural stereotypes and amazement from outsiders. But like many when going on a holiday in a foreign culture, the host culture is heard, but are we really listening?