Noah and I recently re-watched Lost in Translation. It's the kind of movie my mom would hate, because there's a glaring lack of car chases and decided absence of espionage. In fact, this is as close as it gets to any of those things:
Bob: Can you keep a secret? I'm trying to organize a prison break. I'm looking for, like, an accomplice. We have to first get out of this bar, then the hotel, then the city, and then the country. Are you in or you out?"What's this movie about?" Noah asked, which he does almost every time we watch it. This time, I really understood: "It's about loneliness. About how you can feel alone, even when you're surrounded by people."
Charlotte: I'm in. I'll go pack my stuff.
Bob: I hope that you've had enough to drink. It's going to take courage.
Sometimes I think I'd be a happier person if I could walk around with my nose permanently planted in the fluffy crown of Ethan's fragrant head. Of course, wearing a baby as headgear would be prohibitive of most activities (but who really needs those activities anyway, if you can't do them with a mood-lifting baby attached to your face?). It's difficult to understand how I can feel so tenderly toward Ethan in the times when I feel little for anything else (another manifestation of my depression: a heavy, stifling apathy). I suppose the strength of my love for him is such that it penetrates my deepest gloom.
Lost in Translation is, I think, about people finding hope in the midst of depression, making a connection with a kindred soul when even those closest to you feel far away. It's one of those rare, perfectly crafted films that I could pick any scene to describe to you, and it wouldn't really give away what the movie is about. It's like a superb short story, expertly edited to the bones, that takes you somewhere profound without leading you by the nose.
But perhaps most importantly, Lost in Translation renewed my faith in Bill Murray after it was shaken by Scrooged.
Feeling alone while surrounded by people is a common side effect of living in NYC! I was thinking, if you want to get together when I’m in Winston early June- we could go by a fabric store and get a pattern and some fabric, and I'll help you get started on a project?
I would LOVE that! Snag my email address from my profile and I will be at your beck and call.
This is a perfect distillation of the film's essence. Amazing that it can feel both hopeful and hopeless at the end ... you wonder if either character's life will REALLY ever change.
And when my anxiety swings toward depression, I have the same feelings: Life is a drudgery of tiny, insignificant annoyances and everything that I know is important feels MILES away. It's maddening.
Hope it passes for you soon, lady.
Ok, so Im a dork and I cant find your email so here's mine: firstname.lastname@example.org. We're going to be real life friends! Woo hoo!
I'm going to completely miss the point of this post and say...
Oh come ON! Scrooged is a fantastic film! Next you'll be dissing Dunston Checks In!
Um, I hated this movie. Wait, what's beyond HATE?
And I'm not an action chick - my favorites include "Auntie Mame", "Humboldt County" and pretty much anything with Gene Kelly.
I just couldn't get into the extreme self-absorption. And I've been depressed, so it's not like I didn't understand.
Oh well, one man's trash... :)
Dan--It sounds like you and my dad would be great friends.
Meadowlark--I've known more than one person who hated it. It's one of those polarizing films, I think. Like Napoleon Dynamite. I HATED it. In fact, "loathed" might be the right word.
I loved this movie. I also love Napoleon Dynamite. But it had to grow on me. The first time I watched it in theater with husband and was bored to tears and kept nodding off.
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