Movie Review: Lost in Translation (2004)

Written and directed by Sophia Coppula
Starring Scarlet Johannson, Bill Murray

I want to critique both Charlotte’s & Bob Harris’ (the main characters) attitude in Japan, for spoiling such an excellent opportunity to explore the place. Certainly, their relations “back home” in America expect them to enjoy themselves. Nevertheless, it is understandable that they are miserable, given their respective and similar emotional places. They are both lost, but not in translation—-the story really has nothing to do with cultural or language exchange. Rather, they are simply lost individuals. We all have those: what will be my future? What was my past? Who am I? Does anybody love me? Nobody understands me!

No matter where our characters are thrown in the world, they would feel the same. Both characters also feel unappreciated, because they are (to themselves, at least) important people. Charlotte, a recent university graduate in philosophy (for heaven’s sake) is fearful of attempting a future. So, she contemplates possibilities. She doesn’t know who she is, or what she wants, and she incorrectly-—yet understandably—-attributes the fault to her new husband. “I don’t know who I married,” she complains. Bob is middle-aged, and feeling unneeded by his wife and family; his opinions of his own career are unimportant to everyone everywhere. The question remains, is it wise to search for oneself in a foreign place?

It’s interesting that they find a kindred spirit in each other—-American strangers in Japan—-but their relationship to each other neither changes their emotion nor their spirituality. The main intrigue of the story comes from the build-up of our characters’ sexual tension—-which is quite an interesting “thing” to plot a story around, simply because of its intangible nature. Do they? Do they not? What if they did? What if they did not? It’s actually, quite structurally formulaic, if we imagine the up and down slopes of a plot graph, with the climax where our characters find themselves in the same hotel room, on the same bed, in the middle of the night. It’s cleverly written, that way.