Capo
Administrator
Posts: 7,847
|
Post by Capo on May 3, 2008 0:34:07 GMT
Lost In Translation Sofia Coppola 2003 | USA / Japan
Two Americans in Japan, one a middle-aged actor, the other a lonely wife there due to her photographer husband's work, meet by chance and form a bond.
Coppola finds in Tokyo the loneliness of life in modern society, communicated in two strangers frustrated by their current predicaments, not so much brought together as having to be together, in order to find any sort of tolerable path of endurance. The excellent performances carry the film with remarkable weight (Murray tops an already impressive career, Johansson has failed to reach the same heights of subtlety since).
The vision of a new culture, a new way of life, daunting at first and warming at the finish, is wonderfully achieved by a subtle, affecting relationship between the soundtrack and Lance Acord's haunting camera, which lingers at large windows looking out onto vast city skylines. Any criticism of problematic, implicit racism is unfounded: it's an affectionate celebration of Japanese life, which, if anything, paints its central characters negatively - but even then, the amusement they find in this distant culture is a necessary (humane/natural) means of adapting to it; otherwise (and tellingly), Murray rings home demanding "no more of that pasta", requesting instead, by the end of the film, a more healthy diet on his return, consisting of Japanese food.
Coppola's style is unique, both hip and individual, accessible and obscure; it's a massively popular film, for instance, but the narrative style in all three of her features thus far might fit best in what academics - however outdated they are - define as 'Art Cinema': an accumulation of story through episodic development.
Perceptive, brave, and utterly fantastic.
|
|
Capo
Administrator
Posts: 7,847
|
Post by Capo on May 3, 2008 0:35:53 GMT
Couldn't believe it when this title didn't come up in search (coulda sworn there was a thread already).
FWIW, this is, whenever I watch it, my favourite film ever.
|
|
|
Post by seyfried on May 6, 2008 0:50:15 GMT
Unaware it had such an intellectual backlash regarding the racism (I figured it was simply frowned upon by highbrow critics for its cinematic pandering, rather than ideological), I polemically responded, a couple years ago to this article - www.filmquarterly.org/pdfs/article5901.pdf - after reading a nasty review and comments from a blogging "buddy." Glad to see you liked it. Desert island film for me.
|
|
|
Post by svsg on May 6, 2008 1:15:10 GMT
A 4-page essay on a film is atrocious by itself.
|
|
|
Post by seyfried on May 6, 2008 1:26:36 GMT
In the writer's defense, it's more cultural criticism. More up Roland Barthes's alley than Sofia's.
|
|
Kino
Published writer
Posts: 1,200
|
Post by Kino on May 6, 2008 1:50:02 GMT
A 4-page essay on a film is atrocious by itself. I find it odd that you've been deeply affected by film (e.g. The Mirror) and not find merit in multi-page essays and analysis on films. You've stated a similar notion - essays are where critics try to show off - elsewhere, but I can't remember which thread it's in. There are great pieces of film criticism out there.
|
|
|
Post by svsg on May 6, 2008 5:01:20 GMT
I think that authors cannot resist the temptation of infusing the prose with their personal philosophies, especially when it comes to long essays. Neither am I saying that all of them are like that nor can I categorically state that personal insight is bad. After all, we can interpret art only within the limitations of our personal experiences and philosophies. Another problem with verbose analysis is that it de-constructs the magic created by the images.
|
|
Kino
Published writer
Posts: 1,200
|
Post by Kino on May 6, 2008 5:33:23 GMT
I see. Just wanted to see if you thought all multi-page essays on film were, to use your word, atrocious. Your earlier statement coupled with your views expressed elsewhere gave me the impression that you don't value that stuff at all.
Well, as an aspiring filmmaker like yourself, wouldn't it be beneficial sometimes to be able to deconstruct the magic of images to understand filmmaking better? It can even intensify your appreciation of the film, scene, or a specific image-sound moment.
|
|
|
Post by seyfried on May 6, 2008 5:47:29 GMT
problem with verbose analysis is that it de-constructs the magic created by the images. I'll agree in some cases, however, that would be often if we're unable to partition the critic and reviewer. Why not balance both, admitting the vectorial nature of the lengthy critique and retaining the experiential through the review - or simply, the memory? One runs the risk of conflating viewing habits but only the feeble. Moreover, many directors invite such readings. Most of the decent "lengthy articles" are written by authors who will admit to being suppositional, but who says film can't be an auxiliary? But I think you would agree on that, so take a look at the linked article. It's interesting to see that the "magic" can never be objectively realized and that we've had our bias since the ticket counter.
|
|
Capo
Administrator
Posts: 7,847
|
Post by Capo on May 6, 2008 8:00:23 GMT
I think that authors cannot resist the temptation of infusing the prose with their personal philosophies, especially when it comes to long essays. And all the better for it (though I see you admit it's not necessarily a bad thing)! I for one find academia so frustrating at the minute because that kind of thing's discouraged; you really can't get away with it unless you already have letters after your name. For me, "infusing the prose with [one's own] personal philosophies" is a necessarily, unavoidable act if one is to write with any sort of conviction. It's only a temptation if it's not natural: ie, a pretentious hound who thinks he/she is way more familiar with the terms they're using than they actually are. I can't think of any specific critics like that, though I do find in a lot of analysis an unnecessary need to namedrop and contrive criticism; I also find the need to eradicate from any critical piece the idea of the self. (You might find the same notions in my own reviews on this board, but I'd disagree.) Deconstruction isn't a bad thing; it's looking at something with the view that, once deconstructed, you can see how it works in the way it does, and why it affects you (or somebody else) in the way it does. As an aspiring filmmaker (and I've been an audience to film, music, painting and literature now as primarily an aspiring artist myself, more than a critic viewing things from the outside - and I've often felt the most insightful critical analysis in art has come from the artists themselves), my understanding and appreciation of any film stems from the necessary deconstruction of things - the composition of a single shot, the structure of the narrative, the moments in a film that strike me as significant... and as soon as something does that (strike me as significant), I want to know why it's significant; it's from that (and I also look, almost automatically now, for recurring visual motifs, intentional or not) that I might form any sort of understanding as to a film's thematic fabric (I used 'thematic' deliberately, to maintain your interest ). For me, it's an essential part of discovery - and self-discovery at that; without it, I don't know who I am. Criticism, for me (and perhaps me alone), is as much about the self as it is about the text.
|
|
|
Post by svsg on May 7, 2008 2:21:31 GMT
I see. Just wanted to see if you thought all multi-page essays on film were, to use your word, atrocious. Your earlier statement coupled with your views expressed elsewhere gave me the impression that you don't value that stuff at all. My earlier comment on authors showing off and my previous post explaining my position were both made seriously. However the "atrocious" comment was intended to be a joke. Well, as an aspiring filmmaker like yourself, wouldn't it be beneficial sometimes to be able to deconstruct the magic of images to understand filmmaking better? It can even intensify your appreciation of the film, scene, or a specific image-sound moment. I think the key is deconstructing ourselves with whatever we bring in walking into the theater and whatever we leave with. I am mostly uninterested in lengthy analysis from someone, unless I know that person in whatever way or at least interested in what they have to say. If one of you guys write a long review, I am much more likely to read it than some link (seyfried, I read your link though, well, almost ) to a review from some (probably well known) critic. As far as the essays helping me as an aspiring filmmaker, I am not so sure. If I have a DVD of a (viewed+liked) movie with a commentary track and another unwatched DVD, I tend to choose the latter. What would you guys do in that situation? This is not some hypothetical scenario - it happens to me at least twice a week. If you guys think that the commentaries have been useful in understanding the medium ( from a filmmaking point of view), I should start paying more attention to them.
|
|
|
Post by svsg on May 7, 2008 2:30:21 GMT
As an aspiring filmmaker (and I've been an audience to film, music, painting and literature now as primarily an aspiring artist myself, more than a critic viewing things from the outside - and I've often felt the most insightful critical analysis in art has come from the artists themselves), my understanding and appreciation of any film stems from the necessary deconstruction of things - the composition of a single shot, the structure of the narrative, the moments in a film that strike me as significant... and as soon as something does that (strike me as significant), I want to know why it's significant; it's from that (and I also look, almost automatically now, for recurring visual motifs, intentional or not) that I might form any sort of understanding as to a film's thematic fabric (I used 'thematic' deliberately, to maintain your interest ). For me, it's an essential part of discovery - and self-discovery at that; without it, I don't know who I am. Criticism, for me (and perhaps me alone), is as much about the self as it is about the text. I don't know if I misled you guys into thinking that I am opposed to analysis of a movie. My point was perhaps, " why would you want someone else to do it", knowing that as the length of the analysis increases, the proportion of the author's personal thoughts tends to get significant (when the original objective was to understand the film/filmmaker and not the author).
|
|
Boz
Published writer
Posts: 1,451
|
Post by Boz on May 22, 2008 8:28:29 GMT
Lost in Translation Sofia Coppola 2003I'm not quite sure what to say about this one in the end. I definitely like it. It's very simple and intentionally subtle. I found myself wanting more at times, more dialogue, more explanation, more traditional storytelling, but looking at those feelings in writing makes me hate them. If anything it thrives on its subtlety. I guess there's not really another word for it. It's subtle. I feel like I can really relate to the two main characters, however cliched and self-important that sounds. For some reason this feeling of likeness makes me think I get less out of the film emotionally, because I'm already exactly like these people so the film's not presenting a new way of life to me or something. I can't stop rambling, and I can't stop talking about how I feel, but hopefully you get my point. I don't have anything clear cut to say really; I liked it, but it confuses me (kind of), and I love Kevin Shields.
|
|
Capo
Administrator
Posts: 7,847
|
Post by Capo on Jun 27, 2008 18:04:51 GMT
So you think it's "poking fun" at Japanese men's heights? Yes, I do because it's playing off of a widely used stereotype of a derisive tone. It's not enough that Bob is (the only?) non-Asian in the elevator, but it has to play to the notion that all Asians are short. I don't know: is it possible at all, do you think, to defend this in terms of the shot being some sort of subjective viewpoint? I know it's a shot of Bob, but it's still capable of evoking his mindset. And, this is early on in the film (he's just arrived in the country). The first images he sees of Tokyo are the overwhelming neon streets - but the city, I'm sure, isn't all glamour (in terms of the film being a potential tourism promo, is it then guilty of positive discrimination?). And, there's no smoke without fire. Not all Asians are short, true, but nor are all Caucasians tall; in terms of Bob Harris being in Japan, most if not all Asian men are going to be relatively short. That's just a biological fact, a cultural observation. True, the shot is mildly amusing (I don't actually LOL at any of the film besides Murray on the step machine), but it's from the symmetry of the image, from Murray being at the centre, from the "rhythm" of the shot (its place between the other short shots in this expository sequence); the emphasis is on him, on his being different. I don't find the tone derisive at all; if anything, it's clear that Sofia Coppola has some sort of personal connection with the culture evoked in the film, and the tone is a warm one. It becomes increasingly more loving as the film develops (as the characters begin to adapt to this new, alien culture), and then the final wave goodbye at the end of the credits tops it all off. Honestly, if Asians were offended by it, I'd have to say they're being a bit touchy. Non-Asians too. Sure, roll your eyes at it, in the same way I might sigh at most depictions of England that emanate from Hollywood co-productions (films like Notting Hill and Love Actually, with their red buses, dull skies and fumbling, clumsy English characters), but to actually take offence? Seems a bit strong, to me. Are those who don't find it offensive then as naive or ignorant as the film? Also, I don't know anybody who laughed specifically at the Asian stereotypes in the film (though, in fairness, I've not actually asked anybody to specifically deconstruct their response to the film's humour). Are they laughing at the Asians, or with them? Does the film have a nasty, discriminating tone, or a naively charming one? In terms of binary opposites, any derision stems from the audience's shortcomings, and not the authorial intentions; I might admit, with some thought, that a film that even invites such derisive responses is a naive one - but what of those who find the violence in Irreversible quenching? Does that, then, make NoƩ a sadist? I'd maintain that people's laughter stems from Bob's being at the centre of a widely different (to newcomers) culture; and any possible derision mirrors the character's. (An image doesn't necessarily have to be a POV shot to be subjective; though any "objective" shot that deploys a subjective tone like the one in question is obviously and necessarily problematic, open to debate.) [controversy for the sake of discussion]People who take offence at cultural shorthands like this are as shallow as those who laugh at them.[/controversy for the sake of discussion]
|
|
|
Post by svsg on Jun 27, 2008 18:20:32 GMT
films like Notting Hill and Love Actually, with their red buses, dull skies and fumbling, clumsy English characters), That is what I like about England. People in long coats, umbrellas and talking like Hugh Grant.
|
|
|
Post by svsg on Jun 27, 2008 18:27:58 GMT
I think the film starts off in a condescending way (whether it is from Sophia's or Bob's POV is hair-splitting), but slowly as Bob spends more time, he even mentions to his wife that he wants to stay longer in Japan. There is a definite change in attitude towards the culture, but his big reason is still finding a great relationship with the girl. But frankly, I don't see it as offensive. That is how foreigners feel. You tend to mix with people from your own country, interpret your new cultural experiences from the POV of your own past.
|
|