Film Reviews: Sofia Coppola

One of the major perks of studying Communication Arts is I get to write about anything and everything -- including my musings. For our feature writing in class, I decided to write about one of my favorite directors ever: Sofia Coppola. 

I've long been meaning to write reviews about her films so this assignment (well, actually, it was our final paper) was loads of fun even though there was the pressure of doing her works justice. 

Lost In Translation (2003)

The world passes by Bob Harris, a tired and lonely actor who found himself in Japan to promote whiskey for a sizeable talent fee, and in an attempt to boost his career. When he forms a bond with Charlotte, who constantly finds herself alone when her husband goes to work, they happily bask in the unfamiliar setting of Japan; and as the days slip by, the realization that what they have is an intimate, however mostly platonic, relationship begins to hit them.  These are characters who share not only the same dilemma of dealing with a foreign country’s language barrier, but something deeper that nags the corners of their minds in sleepless nights -- loneliness.

My lack of exploring both in foreign places and the unfamiliar territory of love is what makes this film quite an adventure for me. Admittedly, though, it is Bill Murray’s performance that I see as the icing on top of this beautiful film.

Sofia Coppola lavishes in the emotions of the characters by taking her time in establishing the story. The long stretches of quiet scenes where Bob or Charlotte is seen staring blankly across the room leaves an empty feeling in me, as if so much as a draw of breath from me will startle the characters on screen. Sofia handles the film with grace that the story unravels on its own without a “shove” in the plot that is more often than not a hit or a miss. Witty and genuinely amusing, the screenplay – that I genuinely enjoy – delivers so much by saying so little. The film makes you feel that words have become unnecessary, that a look shared by the two characters is an adequate expression of emotions and you understand. Even Bob merely patting Charlotte’s feet contains such deep emotional intimacy that I find that simple act serves as the pivotal part of the film.

The shots of the concrete jungle that is Japan are mesmerizing and gave me the same wonder and shock that Bob feels when he is plunged into the heart of the city. It felt as though I was travelling with them. It does not fail to deliver beautiful imagery, with the camera placed in all the right places so the angles are just right. Along with the visual beauty of the film, I especially enjoy the music that truly sets the atmosphere. It thoroughly makes you feel the conflicting emotions of loneliness, happiness, security, confusion. The film is a quiet storm that leaves an aftermath.

I will always question what Bob whispers to Charlotte at the end of the film and although it upsets me that they will never reveal what it is, it is that private moment that gives me closure. It is not a love story so much as a story about love. It does not conform to the generic formula and it is not bound by the rules of a typical Hollywood tale. You feel, and that is the purpose of this raw and powerful tale.

Someday (2010)

The film captures Hollywood without the glamor, particularly through Johnny Marco, a big-time actor who stays in the Chateau Hotel with money to waste, women at his disposal, and a lifestyle that has severely numbed him, resulting in his passive and robot-esque demeanor. With the sudden introduction of Cleo, his eleven-year-old daughter to his life, his world is shaken, waking him up from what seemed like an emotional paralysis.

The beauty of the film is its focus on character study, with long stretches of silence and the aimless, mechanical movements of Johnny as he sits on his couch, dragging on a cigarette and basking in an all-consuming loneliness. Contrary to making the film dull, the application of slow cinema extremely heightens the realism of the film. I’ve realized that working with a laconic script is its essence; the majority of the film is spent in contemplative silence and it urges the audience to really look and think. The film gives the audience the opportunity to look deeper and to feel deeper. It is hushed and quiet, intimate and authentic.

Again, Sofia Coppola makes use of subtlety and minimalism and directs the attention to the characters and examines them. Who are they? What are they thinking? The film presents scenarios and allows the audience to draw conclusions for themselves. As a fan of character study, Sofia’s representation of each characters, I believe, is something that gives life to the film.

The father-daughter dynamic of Cleo and Johnny is expected of an estranged family; however, Cleo looks at his father with wonder and adoration. Her innocence snaps Johnny out his bizarre bafflement, and he no longer feels the need to fill the void inside of him because of Cleo’s presence.

The use of long shots emphasizes the dissociation and isolation of the characters and its silences speak volumes. The absence of music initially made me uncomfortable, but the scenes were long enough that I was able to settle in the quiet. It is a simplistic take on Johnny’s struggle to make up for lost time with his daughter. Warmth radiates from the two characters, and it is both heartbreaking and comforting.

The Virgin Suicides (1999)

Undeniably one of my personal favorites, The Virgin Suicides is a passively dark film disguised in the form of 6 seemingly upbeat teenage girls living in the suburbs under the watchful eyes of their strict parents. The film explores adolescence, sexuality, loneliness, yearning, the loss of innocence, and coping with shattered ideals. For such heavy themes, Sofia Coppola presents the story with a lightness that lulls you in a state of whim with the occasional funny punchlines despite the rattling first few scenes of the film. Then the story begins to unravel and the airy feel gradually dissolves, replaced by a hollowness that is ironically palpable.

It is an elegant film, one that you cannot help but adore, both in terms of aesthetic and story. Sofia makes use of tight shots and close-ups, to wide shots of the characters. I find that it is the amount of attention paid to the detail that ties everything perfectly well together, resulting in a mundane but bewitching atmosphere. Hazy and mysterious, the dreamy tones and color palette of the film allow you to see the world through the eyes of the neighborhood boys who have long been admiring and lusting after the Lisbon girls.

What I consider the most wonderful element of the film is its subtlety and Sofia’s ability to communicate emotions through glances, gestures, expressions, and even the slightest shifting of ambient music. These things draw the audience to the girls the same way the narrators (or “we” as referred to in the book) are drawn to them. It makes for a chilling viewing experience partnered with an equally chilling narrative of sisters who took their lives for reasons that are still unknown.

Whether it is the boys’ fantasies or real-life, there is the same hypnotic feel. From when the boys daydream of the Lisbon sisters frolicking in the fields to organizing a prison break from the girls’ house arrest, the glaring absence of realism doesn’t hit you until the death of the girls.

Even days after seeing the film, it is of the lingering variety. My peculiar knack for moody films is also probably the reason why this is the strongest contender in my list of favorite Sofia Coppola films.

Palo Alto

A couple of weekends ago, I finally got to get a hold of a decent Torrent copy (oops) of Palo Alto. The film is directed by Gia Coppola who happens to be Francis Ford Coppola's granddaughter (of course the skills run in the family). And long story short, this is one of those films that one could easily label as "pretentious" or "unoriginal" because it does stomp around well-worn territory, and it's basically the been-there-done-that kind of plot, but there is just something about this film that draws me in. The cynicism is not at all romanticized which I highly appreciate. I guess I just a have a knack for moody themes and elegiac nihilism (Adult World and The Art of Getting By are the two films I'm currently thinking about, which also coincidentally stars Emma Roberts) but whatever it is, it's enough to get me to watch it more than five times in a week.

The film attempts to capture the truth of the slippery slopes of adolescence and what it is like to be hopelessly trapped between being a kid and being an adult. It is a simplistic take on the angst-riddled teens and their forlorn struggling with the harsh realities of life. I find the film’s laconic script is the film’s essence; the majority of the film is spent in contemplative silence. I also especially enjoy the film’s atmosphere and mood which relies heavily on its excellent cinematography. Its moody and misty shots show the dissociation of the characters in a purely visual way. 

The shots are often awash in a dreamy haze; cloudy and occasionally out-of-focus that conveys the characters’ aimlessness and confusion. Its beautifully eccentric soft lighting proves to be the film’s crowning gem– its color palette consisting of pale hues of whites, grays, blues, and greens. The artistic use of banded shadows and silhouettes, often on the characters, added a touch of melancholy to the film. It also uses several shots of sunbeams peeking through windows and trees. Repeated lingering shots of peripheral details inside a character’s room – such as childhood toys, dead plants, and clothes lying around – are aesthetically pleasing and highly symbolic which I absolutely love. Most of the scene’s compositions are often minimalistic, with interesting perspectives, using angles that put the characters in odd places within the shot. The unbalanced views make the film all the more ambiguous. 

Another aspect of the film that I absolutely love is Robert Schwartzman’s hazy musical scores that lull the viewers into a sense of wooziness, with almost a hypnotic demeanor. It adds to the palpable sense of darkness and languor, a presence that is hard to shake off as the film goes on. 

"You're crazy."

"No I'm not."

"Yeah you are."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because... you just don't care about anything."

"I wish I didn't care about anything, but I do. I care about everything too much. I think it's you who doesn't care, not me."

"What do you mean, I care about you."

Palo Alto is the kind of film that prioritizes mood over message. Most of the scenes are long stretches because of the characters’ lack of motivation for specific goals, nor are there clear reasons behind their actions and behaviour. The film dwells on ambiguity, on the unpredictability and unstableness of the characters’ futures. At first glance, one may instantly label the film as a superficial attempt to dissect modern unthinking, passive-aggressive teens; however, Coppola does not provide any diagnoses of what is societally wrong. She merely shows us what these characters do – mundane and aimless acts, indulging on the “now” and setting aside the “later”. The protagonists have little concern for the future, leading them to make impulsive decisions with total abandon. 

The film tiptoes around conventional teenage issues, but does not confront in a way that the director provides solutions. However, the characters are given a shot at redemption by making pivotal choices that somehow allow them to grow. Because the film is all about the well-worn territory of teenagers and coming-of-age, it is easy to regard the film as banal, but its beauty is that it goes through a range of emotions. April, Teddy, and Fred, no matter how indifferent they are presented, hide behind smokescreens to cover emotional damage. The film may be a been-there-done-that feature; however, it does inject a welcome dose of sympathy for the unaided teens. What I appreciate is that Coppola does not romanticize their cynic behaviour, however one can’t help but see its poignant demeanor. More importantly, the film is paradoxically blithe and intense, with the characters constantly torn between feeling everything at once and feeling nothing at all.

The Joys of Film Class

One of the many perks of majoring in Communication Arts is studying film. To top it all off, it's an honor to be taught by Sir Clodualdo del Mundo Jr. who's an award-winning film genius and not to mention, can pull of the killer combo of socks and sandals. He's definitely not the objective type of person as he doesn't require written exams so far, rather insights on the films we see.

We literally started from the beginning, watching the first few sets of moving pictures 'till we progressed to silent films and then to the dawn of sound. And contrary to popular belief, it's really not a struggle to stay awake in class. We've seen a couple of films these past few weeks and there are two films that really stuck to me. So I figured I'd share two of my film reviews for our midterms just because.

Bicycle Thieves (1928)
Vittorio de Sica

The film revolves around a young husband, Antonio Ricci, who has been suffering a prolonged unemployment but one day finds a job that requires a bicycle. His wife then agrees to pawn their bedsheets in order for Antonio to get a bicycle, only to have it stolen the next day. Out of sheer desperation to keep his job, Antonio sets on a wide-ranging search for the thief across Rome, accompanied by his young son, Bruno. 

The film was consisted of a good amount of long and wide shots, emphasizing landscapes and the hustle and bustle of the city. It perfectly captures the busy streets, clogged with unfamiliar and hard-bitten faces. The attention to detail was what I liked the most – the visual aspects, such as the indifference of the crowds and vehicles, and occasional reckless behaviour that contributed to the setting of the “harsh” reality of the city.  

Bicycle Thieves’ plot is simple in construction; however it takes pride in its richness in human insight. What seems to be such a mundane problem means the world to Antonio and Bruno. What’s gripping about the film is that the emotions the characters convey and the events that unfold are raw with unpolished edges which makes it vulnerable and pierces even the most callused heart. It follows the journey of a father and a son, and their focus on survival in rural life. I think the film is not only a form of art, but a social statement of post-war Italy, with a horrible system of justice where even the police is of no help. The film was poignant and extremely frustrating because you root for these characters and yet the odds never seem to be in their favor.  The film puts emphasis on the vicious cycle of poverty, where Antonio is torn between setting a good example for his son by doing the right thing, and keeping them alive by also stealing a bicycle to keep his job. The moment where Antonio succumbs to desperation, with the futile attempt to steal the unguarded bicycle was the most heartbreaking scene. You can’t right a wrong by doing another wrong thing, and that is the lesson Antonio ignores as he hits rock bottom. His horrible loss of dignity was lessened, if only for a little bit, once Bruno holds his hand. The cruel and harsh world in which they live in is brilliantly told by Vittorio de Sica. It brings the audience’s attention the world and what kind of things actually occur on a regular basis.

I think this film requires a lot of patience as it progresses slowly and it takes you along the grueling journey of the wide-range search. It's exhausting, and frustrating, but wonderfully told.


The Last Laugh (1924)
F.W. Murnau

The film revolves around a doorman, played by Emil Jannings, who works for a famous and lavish hotel by being positioned in front of the busy revolving door, greeting and assisting the elite guests. The old man takes pride in his uniform – with its brass buttons and fancy details – serving as the embodiment of the hotel. However, he is demoted to the position of the washroom attendant after being considered too old to infirm the image of the hotel. 

The production and technicalities of the film played a crucial role in the overall visual experience of the film which is its essence, considering it is a silent film. The lack of dialogue, and even printed inter-titles, emphasized the Murnau’s ability to tell a story through the language of the camera, replying purely on visual cues and sound effects. The highlight of the film for me is that it is pantomime – conveying emotions through body movements, facial expressions, camera angles, and the like – which I consider is the beauty of silent films before the dawn of sound. It lets you focus your attention on the characters’ actions, along with the eerie instrumentals. I especially enjoyed its cinematography – the angles and the panning of the camera.

The plot of the film, although not as complex as postmodern works, it is hauntingly intriguing enough to stretch for an extended amount of time. One of its crowning highlights is the presentation of the main character’s descent from someone who was admired by his neighbours to being the object of rude gossips. It is heartbreaking to see a man being proud beyond all reason of his job, only to have it taken away unceremoniously. Much of the doorman’s source of happiness is in what he does and the absence of his uniform equated to the absence of his identity. It pierces the heart and hits right where it hurts the most – the knowledge that these things happen on a daily basis. The streets are full of forlorn people like the doorman and not everyone is fortunate enough to have a plot twist as incredible as the one Murnau added. The doorman reads in the newspaper that he inherited the fortune of a millionaire who died in his arms and the last few scenes are spent showing his new happy life, eating extravagant food and drinking expensive champagne. I think it’s nice of Murnau to not leave it at the doorman stuck in his dead-end job, waiting for his death. The art is in the tragedy; however I find the alternative ending refreshing as it tugs the heartstrings.

This film was haunting, with its grotesque cinematography and style of story-telling. The fact that it's a silent film makes it all the more eerie! I personally enjoyed this and Emil Jannings' acting. He also starred in another great film called "The Blue Angel". To be honest, this is really depressing and if Murnau didn't throw in that alternative ending, I would've thrown a fit. Haha.

With all these classes for the degree I'm taking, I feel like I start to notice more things now, especially the ones I take for granted. I feel like I'm not just looking anymore, but actually seeing and it's remarkable and I feel myself growing. And the world looks slightly more alive and vibrant and sad and poignant, and it scares me but it's exhilarating. And it's only just the beginning, just the tip of the iceberg, and I'm more than ready to absorb and take everything in -- to look, to listen, to analyze, to pay attention.

It's daunting, but I feel like I'm finally noticing.