Our Favorite Films: "Lost in Translation"

by Arturo Virzi

The idea that the setting is or should be used as a character is relative. Most people do not remember where some of their favorite films take place, unless the setting is their home town or the place they currently live in. There are, though, a few exceptions. Films that transcend by placing the viewer in a world, and not a situation. 

Almost no film uses the personification of a setting better than Sofia Coppola’s sophomore film, Lost In Translation. Japan comes to life in the film, not just as a culture but as a vibrant personality, perceived entirely from a foreign point of view. It’s one of the few films that I can think of that truly captures the essence of being culture shocked. 

When travelling, we find ourselves stuck in a moment, where the past somehow slowly slips away from us while we make space in our cultural paradigm for the new wonders we encounter. 

Lost in Translation could have easily been an offensive slapstick against Japanese culture, but Coppola treats it with respect and admiration. 

Subtlety, and indirectness are the best qualities of the films. The characters never vocalize their struggle or their feelings for Japan or each other, but the audience manages to “get” it. If what they say about film, about how exposition is everything, then Lost In Translation is an incredible accomplishment by managing to say so much with so little. 

Japan is a strange world to both of our protagonists, and they are both “lost” in every way imaginable. So when they find comfort in each others company, their connection becomes a haven. Lost in Translation is a true love story about two lost souls serving as leverage for each other in their incredibly cumbersome lives, mirrored by Japans loud, jam-packed, pseudo-nonsensical environment. 

Francoise Truffaut (I’m paraphrasing) once said that a films plot shouldn’t derive from a synopsis. The plot is created by the characters themselves. It should be a natural conflict based around the characters interests. Coppola manages to do just that with Lost In Translation, where there is no obvious driving force behind the narrative. The film is 100% character driven, but not by their desires, unlike most films, but by emotion. The film avoids the cheap tricks, like will-they-won’t-they sexual tension, or the classic fictional archetypes. It possesses one of the most rare qualities found in films today: honesty. 

During some of the films best moments, the characters let go of themselves and just have fun. They invite us to get lost with them in the wondrous world of Japan. 

Most script doctors will tell you this is “no-no” in a any given situation, unless it built up to a situational climax. But the climax is far from situational. During the final moments, Bob races after Charlotte before she leaves the country. But instead of ending with a long a passionate kiss, the way most simulative Romantic Comedies end, the characters linger on a hug, something they both desperately needed. Bob follows the hug with a small kiss, and then whispers an inaudible secret in Charlotte’s ear. It don’t think it really matters what he said or what he didn’t. Speculations about this range from “Charlotte is pregnant” to “I will always love you”. This is the scene where audiences throw their hats into the ring and attempt to decipher the riddle. What he said to her doesn’t matter, what matters is how much it meant, and by this point in the film, the audience is very well aware of the fact that it meant a lot. 

Japan is a beauty, and anyone who has seen the film can tell you that the images we receive are so emotionally resonant, that an artificial driving force, like a conventional plot, would have turned this little gem of a film into a synthetic product. So if you’ve seen Lost in Translation, go see it again. If you haven’t been exposed to it yet, then follow this advice and loose yourself together with Bob and Charlotte. If you’re as lucky as I am, you might find yourself by the end and I promise; you won’t regret it.