A defining moment for the leads and their characters

Rating: 9/10 (25 May 2007)

Most slice-of-life movies draw from lives few of us can really relate to. Sure, the protagonists will appear normal enough, have normal jobs, and live a normal life, but rarely do they behave in a truly "normal" way that rises to what could be an actual slice from an actual life. Lost in Translation does this and more, presenting a snapshot of one of those defining moments we all have, an experience that marks our minds forever while simultaneously changing us. Not only does it do this for the lead characters, but also for the actors who play them.
Bill Murray (Bob Harris) plays a caricature of himself: a middle-aged movie star well past his prime, but still a big enough draw to command $2 million for a whiskey advertisement in Japan. Many American movie stars accept endorsement deals abroad but not here to protect their reputations; Harris apparently fits into that class. Scarlett Johansson (Charlotte), plays a similar caricature of herself: a slightly snobbier, well-educated newlywed with a clear intellectual bent that is accentuated by her unique physicality, the type that causes men her age to overlook her while driving older men absolutely insane. Though the film appears written primarily for Murray, it turns out to be the vehicle that catapults Johansson from a merely famous dramatic actress into a historically important one. It will be decades before one can fully appreciate her legacy in this film. In this film, Johansson is what her peers like Gnatalie Portman and Emmy Rossum wish they were and will likely never be. To call her another Hepburn would tell only half the story, because Hepburn was untouchable and for the most part unapproachable; Johansson manages to retain a Hepburn-like class without the pretension, uniting both elitist and populist audiences. She IS that young woman every man in mid-life crisis dreams of crossing paths with.
Unfortunately, Director Sofia Coppola made one critical mistake with this film, and that is adding an element of indirect golddigging to the plot by making Murray rich and famous. The older men in the audience will forgive this, and still put themselves in Murray's place, but the film would have worked even better if he was down on his luck and already owed the money he was to earn in Tokyo, leaving him to start over, without money or debt, after "selling out." The lack of exploration of these dual financial considerations leaves a gaping hole in the film that leaves us wondering, when there is no need, just how much money and fame it takes to connect on a "spiritual" level with the ingénue. As enthralling as Charlotte finds Bob, it would have been more convincing if not cushioned by a bed of his money.
That said, the plot is stellar, and the casting was perfect. Johansson possesses an intellectual maturity that inevitably leads to boredom with men her own age, including Charlotte's husband (Giovanni Ribsi), who conveniently ducks away for a photo shoot, foolishly leaving his tagalong wife unattended. Charlotte loves her husband because she is supposed to, but wonders what she is missing, a question Murray spends most of the film answering for her. Bob Harris's marriage runs only on inertia and memories now, but both forces are strong and he is not about to abandon such a history. While stuck in Tokyo, sparks erupt between Bob and Charlotte as the two fit together like lost pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Sex could occur at any time, yet does not occur for the very reasons it should occur: the characters, like the director, have far deeper and more fascinating explorations in store than the mere physical release of sexual tension.
The most misused actress in the film was Anna Faris (Kelly), the narcissistic, tabloid-hungry movie starlet who serves primarily as Charlotte's antithesis. Coppola could have explored this character and given her depth, yet chose instead to treat her more like a sitcom sidekick. Faris could also have carried the lead role, even if it's obvious why she wasn't chosen. That was no excuse for leaving her out of almost all of the film, however.
The subplots, most of which involve Murray playing the good sport in a foreign land, with tourists and TV hosts, provide good background for the more standardized main plot, which moves in a manner which is predictable yet still fascinating. With the extremely talented leads drawing heavily on their own life experience for their roles, it is not surprising that the result of their efforts was one of the all-time cinema classics, and the defining work for an actor in the sunset of his hall-of-fame prime, and an actress about to enter hers. The feeling was a bit similar to what baseball fans must have experienced in 1951 when Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle were in the outfield for the Yankees.
Bill Murray should have gotten his Oscar for this film, but he also should have gotten it for Groundhog Day. The Charlotte-like snobs who comprise the academy couldn't seem to see past Murray's everyman persona and his earlier roles to realize he has evolved into a legitimate romantic male lead. Johansson will get her Oscar(s) in due time, but a case could have been made for her here as well. I would call this her best work, except that would insult her ability to eclipse it, which I'm sure she will, but no matter what she does after this film, this role will be what defines her historically.
Any aspiring filmmaker should watch this film at least a dozen times.