26 August 2009

"Lost in Translation"--My Final Verdict

Ever since I watched Lost in Translation last night, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I was essentially coerced into watching it by my boyfriend, who can't believe that I'm not fond of Bill Murray as an actor. At any rate, the film affected me a great deal, but I was hesitant to make a decision either way as to whether or not I actually liked it.

My favorite aspect of the movie was the subject: two people have an emotional affair that, while it seems more important to them than their other separate lives, never trespasses into the physical. A deep connection is forged between them, a different plane of understanding that manifests itself despite the obvious age difference. I believe that the film captures the excitement of constantly being at the edge of a sexual affair, and I was pleasantly surprised that the affection between the two main characters never stepped over that edge.

Despite the treacherous nature of such emotional or intellectual affairs, it seems to me that this connection is what most people crave, that these sort of relationships have a deep allure to them. Johansson and Murray's characters have lackluster relationships with their spouses: both desire attention that they are not receiving, and so such an affair temporarily fulfills a requirement. Obviously, once they enter into an affair of this nature, each character begins to realize that something about their other relationships is problematic, yet they appear to respect each other too much to entangle themselves in a more sordid, physical affair. Moreover, I would venture to say that Murray's character holds Johansson's character up to a higher standard than he holds himself, as he acts out his physical desires with the lounge singer instead of engaging her in what could be viewed as a degrading act.

[I also adore Giovanni Ribisi in this film, but I adore him in everything. I don't know why I think this man gives such magnetic performanes, especially in a movie like Lost in Translation in which he is hardly seen. I also found out recently that he was the narrator of The Virgin Suicides, a movie I liked but didn't love.]

Perhaps I'm only being analytic because of the weather, and because I'm listening to music that makes me feel intellectual and aware. I wish it would continue to rain and stop vacillating between sunshine and shadows.

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