The Phoenician Scheme

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

Director Wes Anderson

Anderson on the set

Anderson with Mathieu Amalric,Mia Threapleton, and Benicio Del Toro

Kate Winslet with her daughter Mia Threapleton

Benicio Del Toro with Mia Threapleton and Scarlett Johansson

THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME             B                                                                               USA  Germany  (101 mi)  2025  d: Wes Anderson

Wes Anderson is a descendant of the Marx brothers and Jacques Tati, humorists enthralled with the idea of creating their own cinematic universe, and while Anderson’s quirky dollhouse world may not be for everyone, with production designer Adam Stockhausen on full display, this esoteric espionage caper is among the harder to follow storylines of all his films, but that hardly matters as this just barrels along at a scintillating pace, with an evocative score by Alexandre Desplat, where one thing that is unmistakable is just how bat-shit crazy it is, told with a deadpan, screwball comedy relish, taking us places no one else in the world is willing to go, where this unique mindset and miniature visual aesthetic are certainly his own, as the attention to detail is stunning.  With all the throwaway gags, witty asides, and the historical and cinematic references, it’s nearly impossible to follow it all onscreen (an entire exhibition is dedicated to Anderson’s career at the Cinémathèque Française in Paris, Enter the world of Wes Anderson at the Cinémathèque ..., while an exhibit at London’s Design Museum is planned in the fall, Wes Anderson: The Archives), as it’s gone in the blink of an eye, like the product placement of L.S./M.F.T. during a blood transfusion, a notorious advertisement for cigarettes, Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobacco, Lucky Strike Commercial #1 (1948) YouTube (1:01), a seemingly insignificant detail that only speaks to those old enough and crazy enough to remember that advertisement jingle.  While a darkness has crept into his later films, often reflecting contemporary authoritarian trends, the director is way ahead of his times in that regard, as evidenced by The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014), which allegorized a creeping fascism, or 2018 Top Ten List #7 Isle of Dogs, where a corrupt authoritarian mayor has banned all dogs to an abandoned island, mirroring the current practice of Trump sending so-called dangerous immigrants to languish in overseas prisons.  Anderson’s framing and composition are, as always, exquisite, producing stills that are literally designed to look good enough to hang in an art gallery, where the end credits are among the more uniquely designed in recent memory, showing images of famous paintings that inspired the look of the film, all set to the music of Stravinsky’s Firebird, Stravinsky: Finale - Suite from The Firebird / Los Angeles ... YouTube (3:00), suggesting they have a profoundly liberating influence, while also including an amusing statement that this may not be used for the purposes of training AI.  Perhaps the biggest surprise is the casting of Kate Winslet’s daughter, Mia Threapleton, as a novitiate nun, who surprisingly holds her own against a cast of stars, most only appearing briefly, yet the A-list of names in the ensemble cast is impressive, suggesting there’s no shortage of people who want to work with Anderson, who is one of the defining visionaries of our generation, whose influence is felt far and wide.  Threapleton watched the animated feature FANTASTIC MR. FOX (2009) when she was about eight or nine-years old, then was blown away by 2012 Top Ten Films of the Year: #3 Moonrise Kingdom, deciding then and there that she wanted to work with Anderson one day, sending him a self-made audition tape for this film, recreating a scene from ISLE OF DOGS (2018), which the director loved, choosing her immediately after reading with leading protagonist Benicio Del Toro, who felt a connection working with her.  While people have different reactions to the idiosyncratic Wes Anderson experience, as all the characters are essentially cartoons, yet this film would just not be the same without her, providing the heart and soul that the other characters lack, inspired by Anderson’s relationship with his own daughter, making this a very personal film for him.  The film is dedicated to Anderson’s late father-in-law, Fuad Malouf, a Lebanese engineer and businessman who had a vast array of ongoing international projects in the works.  

Anderson has a multi-billionaire benefactor/business partner in Steven Rales, whose Indian Paintbrush (company) has almost exclusively produced every Anderson movie since 2007, with just a handful of other movies thrown in.  As for the film itself, it’s a wild and wacky affair, shot on 35mm in the Babelsberg Studio in Germany (the same studio where Fritz Lang shot METROPOLIS in 1927) by Bruno Delbonnel, responsible for the cutesy style of Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s AMÉLIE (2001), Julie Taymor’s psychedelic Beatles fantasia ACROSS THE UNIVERSE (2007), and the magnificent look of Joel Coen’s 2022 Top Ten List #5 The Tragedy of Macbeth (2021), where this is the first live-action film not shot by Anderson’s regular cinematographer Robert Yeoman.  Premiering at the Cannes Film Festival, with a script co-written by Anderson and Roman Coppola, this film delves into the nefarious world of trade and commerce, which includes sabotage, a hidden espionage ring, and multiple assassination attempts, as personified by industrialist and arms dealer Anatole “Zsa-Zsa” Korda (Benicio Del Toro), a ruthless opportunist and the richest man in Europe who also dabbles in the defense and aviation industry, loosely based on Armenian oil magnate Calouste Gulbenkian, who helped Western companies exploit the oil-producing regions of the Middle East while amassing a huge fortune and art collection of more than 6000 works of art, which he kept in a private museum at his Paris house (now housed in a museum in Lisbon), described by an art expert in a 1950 article from Life magazine, Mystery billionaire, "Never in modern history has one man owned so much."  This unscrupulous element of wielding power in order to make as much money as possible is a stark contrast to the art-inspired visual feast that commands the screen, showing a darker side of the American artist, perhaps reflected by that same turn of events in American politics, as it’s difficult to say whether Anderson really wanted to offer thoughts on global capitalism, but the connection to a contemporary reality, and some well-known billionaires, is all too evident.  Set in 1950, we first meet Zsa-Zsa flying in his private plane somewhere over the Balkans when he hears a strange sound, like a loud thump, quickly turning around, only to see a bomb blast completely eviscerate a fuselage side panel, taking his personal secretary with it, but he miraculously survives a crash landing.  This near death experience, apparently his sixth or seventh assassination attempt, plunges him headlong into a vision of the afterlife, shifting to black and white imagery, where he literally sits in judgment of his life from beyond the grave, confronted with his own mortality, where God is played by Bill Murray, a large bearded figure in white robes, surrounded by otherworldly beings.  Because of the shadowy forces repeatedly targeting him with assassination attempts, while also trying to undermine his business ventures, he summons his long-abandoned and pious daughter Liesl (Mia Threapleton), who he hasn’t seen in years, to discuss making her the sole heir to his fortune, having mysteriously disinherited all his many sons, The Phoenician Scheme Movie Clip - Sole Heir (2025) YouTube (42 seconds).  This brief, yet highly effective scene taking place in his palazzo-inspired residence full of fine art establishes the particulars, “Never buy good pictures.  Buy masterpieces,” setting the framework for the rest of the film, becoming a battle of wills, like a morality play, where despite all the absurd encounters and theatrical shenanigans turning into an action-packed, globe-trotting romp, it’s all essentially a cover for a story about a father trying, in his own bizarre way, to connect with the daughter he barely knows, embracing themes like tragedy, redemption, honor, and yes, happiness.

Zsa-Zsa has a habit of carrying around a satchel of hand grenades, which he hands out to business partners like souvenirs during their encounters, where he typically starts out with the familiar refrain, “Help yourself to a hand grenade,” which people are more than happy to accept.  His titular “scheme” is to develop multiple infrastructure projects across “Modern Greater Independent Phoenicia,” a fictional land populated by princes, spies, revolutionaries, and large investors, and a mammoth Korda Land and Sea Phoenician Infrastructure Scheme involving a canal, a massive tunnel, a railroad line, and a hydroelectric dam.  His wheeler-dealer style has created many enemies, known disparagingly as “Mr. Five Per Cent” for his ability to always take a cut, hated the world over as he thinks everyone can be bought, having no friends and an unloving family he has largely ignored, but the business world hates him for exploiting local workers as slave labor, for his rampant lies and deceit, accountable to no laws whatsoever, and for dubiously cutting corners to become ridiculously successful.  Liesl has lived in a convent ever since her mother died when she was young, still stinging from the belief that Zsa-Zsa may have had something to do with her demise, as all his ex-wives died under suspicious circumstances, yet he steadfastly denies any involvement.  While he’s obviously a galvanizing figure, her insistence at discovering who was behind her mother’s murder leads her to accept this vaguely conceived succession agreement, on a trial basis, of course, bringing these seeming opposites together.  Zsa-Zsa’s grand scheme is outlined in a series of labeled shoeboxes, each containing a core component to the project, but rising production costs means he needs to close a gap in the plan’s financing, requiring visits to various key players to cover the artificially inflated costs, as his enemies have skyrocketed building material prices for his construction projects.  Liesl agrees to join Zsa-Zsa on his journey, accompanied by his special assistant, the family’s Norwegian tutor and entomologist, Bjørn (Michael Cera), who utters the unthinkable, “I speak my heart, I’m a Bohemian,” returning to the skies once again, with Zsa-Zsa repeatedly offering the reassuring words, “Myself, I feel very safe.”  Liesl is stunned to discover he’s been spying on her, though Zsa-Zsa is quick to retort, “It’s not called spying when you’re the parent.  It’s called nurturing.”  Where it all leads is to pure chaos and pandemonium, with a flurry of scenes strewn together, each more strangely disconcerting than the next, THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME - "Human Rights" Official Clip YouTube (1:10), THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME - "Oh Dear" Official Clip YouTube (42 seconds), THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME - "You Used to Work for Me ... YouTube (44 seconds), meeting with fez-wearing, French nightclub owner Marseille Bob (Mathieu Amalric), a reference to Jacques Becker’s TOUCHEZ PAS AU GRISBI (1954), interrupted by a group of armed revolutionaries, weirdly getting stuck in quicksand, while also visiting his second Cousin Hilda (Scarlett Johansson), who runs a “Utopian Outpost.”  But the ultimate showdown is with his big-bearded brother, Uncle Nubar (Benedict Cumberbatch, looking like a Russian czar), “He’s not human, he’s biblical,” which is literally a blood feud made to resemble a battle between a Marvel superhero and a villain, set to the bombastic music of Russian composer Modest Mussorgsky, Mussorgsky: Pictures at an Exhibition (Orch. Ravel) : Promenade 1 YouTube (1:44), turning into a day of reckoning.  What follows is not what anyone would expect, with a beautifully charming Buñuelian twist at the end that does not disappoint, feeling strangely humanizing all of a sudden, saturated with dry wit and humor, yet the incessant business jargon used throughout seems intentionally designed to leave viewers emotionally disconnected through an obsessive ironic detachment, as none of it really makes any sense, nonetheless this is a welcome addition to the Wes Anderson universe, filled with pastel appeal and memorable charm, where what really stands out is that the actors truly shine, displaying impeccable comic timing in this elaborately constructed geometrical puzzle box.      

Lost in Translation

 

Sofia Coppola with her famous Dad, Francis Ford Coppola

Writer/director Sofia Coppola

Coppola on the set with Scarlett Johansson

Coppola and Johansson

Coppola on the set with Bill Murray

LOST IN TRANSLATION          A-                                                                                           USA  Japan  (102 mi)  2002  d: Sofia Coppola

I spent a lot of time in Tokyo in my twenties and I really wanted to make a film around my experience of just being there.  That was the starting point.  I got married not long before and kind of felt isolated.  I was in this stage where I wasn’t sure if I’d made the right choices or what I was doing in the post-college beginning of my adult life.                                  —Writer/director Sofia Coppola in Simon Brand interview from Little White Lies, August 26, 2018, Sofia Coppola on Lost in Translation at 15 

Listed at #1 on the 2003 year-end Village Voice Film Poll and Best Movies of 2003 | Film Comment's 2003 Critics' Poll, becoming a huge commercial success, where a $4 million dollar movie earned nearly $120 million dollars, yet this is the movie that drew attention to female directors.  Yes, Sofia Coppola is the daughter of celebrated director Francis Ford Coppola, so she has a leg up on everybody else, but nonetheless, this drew plenty of critical praise, drawing attention to what was uniquely different about her style and that of her infamous father, who served as an executive producer of the film.  While this didn’t start a feminist revolution in the industry, it was among the first times that a woman’s film was taken seriously, provoking different reactions from men and women, pitting mainstream Hollywood versus independent, feminism and auterism, in many ways altering our view in how we evaluate motion pictures.  Even critics who appreciated the film also derided Coppola for displaying a lack of depth, expressing a mindset that she was simply handed the reins, along with boatloads of money, from her more distinguished father in order to make the films she wanted, as many seemed obsessed with her status as the daughter of a major American filmmaker, given special privilege and offered opportunities other women lacked, all of which suggests a cinema of self-indulgence.  When French New Wave directors, almost exclusively male, rejected the traditional cinema of old and injected a more personal flair into their movies, it was met with a euphoric wave of approval, where the term “liberating” suggested a generational passing of the torch.  Sofia Coppola’s films, on the other hand, while not explicitly feminist, lay a foundation for an alternate path that repositions the male aesthetic into a cinema that at the very least expresses an awareness of female concerns, more interested in exploring a rich, interior life, drawing heavily from her own personal experiences, while at the same time engaging in an adversarial position from the traditional Hollywood model.  While Coppola’s privileged position in Hollywood does set her apart from other women filmmakers, her films embody a post-feminist culture that empowers women in radically different ways, providing the perspective of a young, female protagonist, often without voice in their environment, serving as a prolonged exploration into the way they are objectified, idealized, and defined by their surrounding society, and then subverts those expectations by introducing a different style and texture to the film itself, where the style actually becomes the substance, offering a challenging new way to view and interpret what we’re seeing onscreen, though in many ways it resembles a European arthouse sensibility.  For instance, the opening shot of the film is a prolonged take of a transparently pink, panty-clad rear end lying on a hotel bed facing away from the audience, Lost In Translation - Opening Scene - YouTube (2:11), with Charlotte, Scarlett Johansson, only 17 at the time, first appearing in the Coen brother’s THE MAN WHO WASN’T THERE (2001) and Terry Zwigoff’s Ghost World (2001), typically viewed as an object of desire from the male gaze, much like the obligatory shot of Brigitte Bardot’s naked backside in Godard’s Contempt (Le Mépris) (1963), yet as the camera lingers, viewers become a participant in the changing experience.  Charlotte is often seen lounging around the hotel room in various states of undress, wearing just a T-shirt and panties, curled up against a windowpane, staring out a hotel window in an aerial view from an upper floor of the far-reaching panoramic landscape of the city below, with the camera looking over her shoulder, asking viewers to gaze along with her, not at her, far more interested in conveying her personalized experience, LOST IN TRANSLATION - I'll be at the Bar YouTube (1:42).

Coppola claimed she had Johansson in mind ever since seeing Lisa Krueger’s girls-on-the-run movie, MANNY AND LO (1996), narrated by Johansson, “She was like 12 years old and I just loved her.  She had that husky voice even then and seemed mature beyond her years.  There was some quality about her that stood out and I connected with.  She’s able to convey a lot without saying anything.  I had a feeling about her.  I wasn’t surprised she went on to do lots of different things after but I’m surprised when I look back at how young she was.  She was only 17.”  The jet-lagged setting in Tokyo was largely influenced by the director’s own experiences when visiting Japan, having stayed in the luxurious accommodations of the Park Hyatt Tokyo Japan hotel located on the top 14 floors of the 52 story Shinjuku Park Tower building when promoting her first film, THE VIRGIN SUICIDES (1999).  This minimalist film builds on the independent film tradition that emerged out of the 1990’s with the commercial success of the Sundance Film Festival, as well as the introduction of the DVD, which made independent films readily available, allowing film studies to develop courses around a burgeoning film movement set apart from the conventional or mainstream cinema.  Coppola’s Oscar-winning script, unusually short at only seventy pages, (Lost In Translation script), was written with the low-key, deadpan style of comedian Bill Murray in mind, claiming the film would never have been made without him, not only trapped in a foreign country with no safety net, but also caught in the uncertainties of an existential mid-life crisis.  It’s also easy to see the personal connection between the filmmaker and neglected wife Charlotte, a recent Yale philosophy graduate who acknowledges a directionless aspect to her life, disappointed with her attempts at writing and photography, fields Coppola explored before becoming a filmmaker, while Charlotte’s self-involved photographer husband John (Giovanni Ribisi, the narrator in THE VIRGIN SUICIDES), hasn’t a clue what his wife is experiencing, always abandoning her to run off on an all-day and sometimes into-the-night work assignment, resembling Coppola’s husband at the time, film and music-video director Spike Jonze, maker of Being John Malkovich (1999), ADAPTATION (2002), and Her (2013), initially meeting on the set of a Sonic Youth music video, with the couple filing for divorce two months after the release of the film.  With a small film crew in tow, led by cinematographer Lance Acord, who also worked with Spike Jonze, they employed a mobile, guerilla style of shooting, appearing in random locations throughout Tokyo, shooting on the fly, never securing permits, relying upon bystanders on the street as extras, yet this gives the film a documentary style, while also allowing improvisation both in dialogue and in shooting extended wordless sequences to take the place of the sparsely written script, with second-unit footage of the city shot by Coppola’s older brother Roman.  They did encounter unexpected delays from having to translate with those who were hired locally, resulting in some cross-cultural misunderstandings, becoming a key component to the film, exaggerated to comic effect with Bob Harris (Bill Murray) shooting his whisky commercial, an aging film star where the lure of $2 million dollars brings him to Tokyo, yet the lengthy directions aggressively spoken to him in Japanese followed by such a passive and shortly-worded English translation is reduced to skit-like parody, causing confusion and disorientation, where viewers are just as easily confounded.  In an amusing aside, when Francis Ford Coppola was in the Philippines preparing to shoot APOCALYPSE NOW (1979), he discovered that Japanese legend Akira Kurosawa was struggling to finance his next picture, so he and George Lucas agreed to help him out, with Coppola flying to Japan to star in a Suntory whisky commercial with Kurosawa, an event that provided a source of inspiration for this film.   While other films of the era were relying upon a conversion to digital cameras, Coppola bucked the trend and preferred shooting on 35mm, which elevates the color saturation, particularly in night shots, where the neon-lit Tokyo skyline is particularly compelling, enhanced by an otherworldly feel that Tokyo naturally exudes, matched only by the luminous Tokyo sequences in Edward Yang’s Yi Yi: A One and a Two... (2000).  The predominate theme is dislocation, yet the experience of being isolated in such a massive foreign metropolis, cut off from language and any sense of familiarity, allows Coppola to convey that unintelligible feeling purely by mood and atmosphere, where not much ever happens, yet viewers deeply internalize the experience.  

Reminiscent of Lawrence Kasdan’s romantic drama THE ACCIDENTAL TOURIST (1988), which delves into the complications of relations, with numerous shifts of tone within a compressed emotional range, these “accidental tourists” are similarly lost amidst a fast-paced, modernist landscape that occasionally borders on the absurd, embellishing what amounts to a “brief encounter.”  Charlotte, in her early 20’s, is just half the age of Bob, yet she’s just beginning to experience the transformative process of growing into herself as an individual, while Bob is inundated by the shifting priorities in the second half of life, where his wife and kids have learned to live without him during his long absences, while he’s forced to re-examine his life in a different context.  Accordingly, during his nighttime arrival in Tokyo, with a bleary-eyed, jet-lagged view of the city from the back of his cab, he’s only semi-consciously awake in the ride to the hotel, yet there’s a surreal moment, like a dream landscape, when he sees a brightly lit billboard containing his own image in a Suntory whisky ad, Lost In Translation: Bill Murray first time in Tokyo (Death in Vegas - Girls) YouTube (1:25).  Both Charlotte and Bob suffer from insomnia at night, leading to late-night visits to the bar, which is how they meet, Lost in Translation (2003) - 'What Are You Doing Here' Clip YouTube (3:11), developing an immediate rapport, as she laughs at all his jokes, and in a sea of culture shock confusion that is enveloping them, they actually have intelligent conversations, where it’s her astutely discerning, grown-up responses to his off-the-cuff remarks that initially attract his interest, both providing effortless and naturalistic performances that are among the best in their entire careers (Murray has indicated this is his personal favorite), where their extraordinary performances really ARE the film.  While he is lost and disoriented in the streets, unable to mix with locals because of language and cultural barriers, inevitably ending up back in his hotel room channel surfing through bizarre local shows, much of this film is seen through the muted yet curious eyes of Charlotte, who has no one else to talk to, much less confide in, as she takes solitary excursions on her own, often overwhelmed by the exotic allure of Japan, with its Zen-like connection to historical antiquity, equally fascinated by the manic obsession with Western culture, amused by the sheer excitement of their fandom.  With both characters fighting to maintain a spirit of independence, refusing to be defined by others, she dons a pink wig, copied by Natalie Portman in CLOSER (2004), as they go on a zany adventure together through the labyrinth of the city, where their memorable choices of karaoke songs are reflective of their inner feelings, Lost in Translation | Scarlett Johansson & Bill Murray's Wild Night in Tokyo YouTube (7:02).  Even her unconventional connection to Bob is not based on attraction or lust, but deeper human connections, both feeling excluded in their marriages, having to look inward for answers, yet getting philosophical about your own life leaves you on the outside looking in, feeling distanced and melancholic, as we mostly experience the city through her eyes.  Bob, and especially Charlotte, are sometimes bored and often confused by the strip clubs, karaoke bars, and Buddhist temples they visit, yet one solitary journey to Kyoto to visit the Nanzen-ji temple becomes an enthralling sequence, a lovely ode to the poetic beauty of Japan, perfectly capturing the transcendent stillness in a wordless cinematic reverie accompanied by an electronic instrumental track from Air, Alone in Kyoto - Lost in Translation (HD) YouTube (2:56).  The film did not play well before Japanese audiences while receiving backlash from critics who claimed it not only stereotyped Japan, but reduced Japanese characters to racist tropes, subject to offensive humor that would not be acceptable today.  While that may be true, it does reflect how visitors to another country bring their own racist values with them, never pretending to provide an accurate view of Japan, but the film is intentionally distorted, hence the title, to reflect a spectator’s skewed conception.  In this regard it shares a distinctly Western gaze into the East with the same incomprehensible fascination as Wim Wenders’ pilgrimage honoring Ozu in Tokyo-Ga (1985), similarly caught up in the mysteries of the surreal landscape, with both films turning into exercises of empathy.

While the limitations of their respective marriages are glaringly exposed, John never seems to have a moment to spare for Catherine, and when he does finally show up he’s too exhausted to stay awake, where his insufferable snoring is a constant reminder of why she can’t sleep.  John seems to respond much more animatedly to the fawning attention from a ditzy blond actress (Anna Faris) they run into at the hotel than he does to her (a veiled reference to actress Cameron Diaz), suggesting their relationship lacks the spontaneity and emotional depth she craves, while Bob’s life is continually interrupted by faxes from his wife Lydia reminding him of banal duties he needs to fulfill when he gets home, who’s birthday he forgot, what child’s recital is coming up, even sending him cabinet specifications and carpet samples that he needs to select for a home project.  He’s inundated by the trivialization of their unhappy phone calls which sound so coldly impersonal (voiced by the film’s costume designer, Nancy Steiner), where the weight of the mundane aspects of marriage have suddenly taken over, leaving him exasperated and wanting to escape.  Charlotte, on the other hand, tries to divert herself from her unhappy marriage by seeking knowledge and comfort in various aspects of Japanese culture, listening to monks chanting in a Buddhist temple, or learning the art of flower arranging, even adding ornamental touches to her hotel room, but discovers the unfathomable divide is too great, and instead is left feeling shallow and empty, where listening to a self-help audio tape offers no relief, with both seemingly stuck at a lonely impasse.  Even if only fleetingly, Bob and Catherine seem to hit it off in a faraway land, displaying a quick wit, communing on the same wavelength while trying to figure it out, bombarded by a language and culture they fail to understand, where furtive glances and long silences become the language of choice, dropping visual clues, exuding in the restraint of Rohmer’s CLAIRE’S KNEE (1970), where the mere suggestion of a touch resonates deeply.  Part of the beauty of the film is how it encapsulates the importance of all these fleeting moments that seem small, but are actually monumental, as we’re never immersed in the totality of their lives, but in the profound significance of this particular moment in this particular place, always accentuated by an incredible soundtrack that exists in perfect harmony, like subliminal messages accentuating interior themes, Lost in Translation - Soundtrack - Full Album (2003) YouTube (53:59).  With constantly shifting nocturnal images of the sleepless nights, they find themselves drinking sake and watching Fellini’s LA DOLCE VITA (1960) on television in Japanese, yet this also provides an opportunity to open up and share a personal moment together, shot with reflective glass images, offering a window into their souls in one of the most poignant and tender scenes, actually getting lost in each other, while still keeping a safe distance, Lost in Translation | Scarlett Johansson & Bill Murray's Sleepover Heart-to-Heart YouTube (7:41).  Dwarfed by the rapturous elegance of a spatial divide, it’s all about their tenuous relationship to that space, finding texture in architectural designs, gorgeous city landscapes, and bustling street activity, where there’s even an Olympic-size swimming pool surrounded by full-length windows, as the hotel room becomes a protective cocoon, emblematic of their subdued confinement within that space, surrounded by plush accommodations that only the rich can afford, and while this hits the mark in Coppola’s case, there’s a kind of wish-fulfillment aspect to this artificially created dreamscape, an imaginary tourist excursion that most of us can never afford, creating a kind of fantasyland for viewers.  Yet the emotional impact of the film is unmistakable, and completely accessible, built by a developing level of intimacy that feels authentic, where viewers are transported into the psychological depth of their experience, finding it intoxicating in many respects, each character obviously moved by the other, invested by the rush of emotions extending into the ambiguity of the finale, Lost in Translation, by Sofia Coppola - Ending scene (2003) (with Scarlett Johanson & Bill Murray) YouTube (5:16).  This is Sofia Coppola’s finest hour, buoyed by the magic of her understated, observational style and those endearing lead performances. 

Loneliness alone and surrounded by others (Lost In Translation)  wordless visual commentary from Frauke Cosemans set to the music of Air, YouTube (3:23)

Sofia Coppola Lost in Translation - The Directors Series  video analysis from Cameron Beyl, YouTube (13:12)