Lost in Translation is a beautiful, restrained story of two displaced souls who find each other for a brief week in Tokyo.

The writing is not all that profound; rather, the magic is in the interaction between middle-aging movie actor Bob (Bill Murray) and Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson), and in what is not said. At the beginning of their relationship, we never hear them exchange names, almost as if they had known each other before. And at the end of the picture, in a satisfying emotional climax, we don't even hear the last words that Bob says to Charlotte.

In between, we're treated to a cinematic postcard of modern Tokyo, from the stillest Buddhist temples and meditation gardens, to the noisiest video arcades and pachinko parlors, to the sleaziest clubs. (That arcade drum machine was a surprise.)

Director Sofia Coppola dwells on images of water and of feet. Bob takes Charlotte, who spends half the movie out of her shoes, to an emergency clinic to tend to a badly-bruised toe. Later, in a touching scene that swells with emotional (not physical) intimacy, Bob tenderly clasps Charlotte's foot to cap the scene.

This is a movie about mood, one that doesn't give in to the easy narrative payoff. Best thing I've seen since January.

posted: 8:24:10 PM  

Hooray! I can wash my dishes again, and I don't have to boil my coffee water.

posted: 12:20:17 AM