The retelling of France's iconic but ill-fated queen, Marie Antoinette. From her betrothal and marriage to Louis XVI at 15 to her reign as queen at 19 and to the end of her reign as queen, and ultimately the fall of Versailles.
Middle-aged American movie star Bob Harris is in Tokyo to film a personal endorsement Suntory whiskey ad solely for the Japanese market. He is past his movie star prime, but his name and image still have enough cachet for him to have gotten this lucrative $2 million job. He has an unsatisfying home life where his wife Lydia follows him wherever he goes - in the form of messages and faxes - for him to deal with the minutiae of their everyday lives, while she stays at home to look after their kids. Staying at the same upscale hotel is fellow American, twenty-something recent Yale Philosophy graduate Charlotte, her husband John, an entertainment still photographer, who is on assignment in Japan. As such, she is largely left to her own devices in the city, especially when his job takes him out of Tokyo. Both Bob and Charlotte are feeling lost by their current situations, which are not helped by the cultural barriers they feel in Tokyo, those cultural barriers extending far beyond just not... Written by
Giovanni Ribisi and Scarlett Johanssen both have fraternal twin siblings. Giovanni a sister, and Scarlett a brother. See more »
When Bob lies alone near the beginning of the movie (just before he gets a fax), the clock reads 4:20 in a close-up shot. At the end of the following long-distance shot, the clock is blurry, but clearly changes (probably to 4:21). In the following shots, it's back to 4:20. See more »
I think I know why this dreadful movie was acclaimed.
I'm probably wrong, but honestly I can only think of one reason that critics and the movie industry seemed to love this tediious, contrived, and artlessly racist movie: Bill Murray.
Here's the basis of my theory (and please forgive the name-dropping, it's required to make my point): Celebrities are spotted quite often in New York. I've bumped into Harrison Ford on Madison Avenue, dined near Nicole Kidman , seen Uma Thurman browse jazz records and (separately) Ethan Hawke knock back neat whiskeys. Etc., etc. But in thirty years, only once have I ever seen a celebrity actually cause a stirand not a stir among the general public, but among waiters at a very upscale restaurant, where celebrities are commonplace.
It was Bill Murray. I was waiting for a friend, and happened to occupy a barstool that was near both the waiters' station and Murray's booth. The waiters were actually arguing over which of them got to fill his water glass next. They were neglecting other patrons. They were whispering and giggling. They were thrilled.
The point is: Everybody loves Bill Murray. I've never seen a bad review of him, and let's face it, he's no Laurence Olivier. He's made some real clinkers (Zissou, Where the Buffalo Roam, Quick Change, Charlie's Angels, Get Smart), but he seems to float above them, a cynical, comical everyman that nobody hates.
If his "Lost in Translation" character had been played by anyone elsesay, Kurt Russell or Michael Keaton or Jeff Bridges (they're all about the same age, and all have comic/dramatic range)-- I suspect critics would have treated "Lost in T" the way they treated, say, "3000 Miles to Graceland" or "Jack Frost" or "Nadine." In other words, they would have had the courage to say, This film is atrocious.
The moral: If you've got a dull, callow screenplay and a name like Coppola that'll get you funding, hire Bill Murray
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