Lost in Translation
First, a vignette: I'm heading through the lobby of the Seven Gables looking for a water fountain. An employee is blocking the way of a young woman holding a brown paper bag.
"You can't bring that in here."
"Uh, no, I need to..."
"You can't. It's outside food."
"No, I need to -- "
He cuts her off. "You can't bring outside food into the theater."
She turns slightly pink. "No, it's, uh, kinda... girl stuff."
"Oh." He steps back and looks over to the door, nervously. "OK."
Lost in Translation was really quite wonderful. A lot has already been written about it -- Elvis Mitchell's review in the NY Times is good, as is Moira's article on Ms. Coppola.
There's only two things I'd like to add: first, that anyone who's ever been alone in a strange city, trying to figure out how to fill the hours between whatever it is you're there doing — or trying to figure out what you're doing with your life in general — will understand these characters.
The second thing is to mention how beautifully this movie is filmed. Every shot is a demonstration of the cinematographer's art. Whether that's due to Lance Acord or Ms. Coppola herself (who is quite a good photographer, on top of her other talents) I don't know — I suspect it's both — but I'm probably going to have to see it again just catch the plot elements I missed the first time around because I was so enthralled with the visuals.
Capsule review: Alternately melancholy, funny, and romantic. Go see it. I loved it. I'm going to see it again.