How people can call Lost In Translation a great movie is beyond me. Sofia Coppola proves once again that she doesn't know how to shape a scene let alone an entire film. The premise isn't bad, but all of the ideas float by latently on the screen. Cinematographer Lance Acord helps make up for Coppola's lack of an eye by giving the city locations an ambient glow, but scenes that feature people talking to each other (including those between Bill Murray and Scarlet Johannsson) feel oddly disconnected. Some may argue that this mirrors the characters' frame of mind, but when all of these scenes lead up to a big romantic farewell it feels like you're getting the payoff without the proper build. As for the "comedy" in this film, I thought it was insulting. Everyone in the movie except for the two main characters (and maybe Johannsson's Japanese friend) are made to look either clownish or shallow. Since when is making fun of Japanese people and custom considered "hilariously inventive" as one paper put it. The whole conception is so narrow minded that unless you're willing to fall in love with the characters' mopey derisiveness you will find very little to grab onto as a viewer. Bill Murray has been giving this same sad-sack performance for the past fe w years. It worked in Rushmore because....well because it was just a much better film. That film had original humor, great visuals, and Murray had an actual character to play. Here it looks like there were a lot of script pages that probably read, "Bill does something funny here." The truth is, not much of what he does here is funny or even interesting. It's a tired performance that's being misconstrued as "real" or "honest." Granted, a tired Bill Murray is still much better than most, and he shows a few glints of spontaneous magic. Much of this movie was obviously improvised--at least dialogue wise--and Scarlett Johannsson comes out looking the worst. Often she lets her pretty, pouty face do what her mind (and probably Coppola's script) is not doing. Her performance is full of longing glances and dulled edges. It's telling that her best scene--and Coppola's best conception/composition--is the opening shot of her backside through pink panties seen from the vacant side of her bed. It's a brilliant piece of metaphorical imagery, and there's not a shot or line of dialogue in the rest of the film that comes close to matching it.

** out of *****