Tuesday 11 January 2011

A pudding made with champagne.


When I'm riding in my pink limousine, clutching a globeful of napoleon brandy and fondling two mixed race ladies, I like to watch movies about famous people. Especially ironic 'uns. Make me feela better about myself.

Only joking about the limousine and stuff. But I did just watch Somewhere.

Its a film about a famous man who, in his relationship with his daughter finds meaning to his existence.

Its essentially a pornographic enquiry into the way the other half live. I would imagine that this is the extent to which most people will enjoy the movie. It tries to redeem some vestige of intellectual credibility at the end, by cleaving on an existential crisis from the protagonist.

The most insidious thing about this movie is that it is one which Sophia Coppola has made before. Four movies is too soon into a directing career to begin rehashing.

Debauchee becomes jaded. Meets girl. Girl shows him the meaning of life. Debauchee has existential crisis. This movie is called Lost in Translation.

In fact, the only innovations made in this movie are the most insipid and saccharine and fraudulent elements. Almost everything interesting about Lost in Translation is chiseled away.

There are some redeeming qualities. There are several very wry visual gags. The acting is exceptional at times particularly from Ellie Fanning and the quite remarkable Chris Pontius. There is also some experimentation with audio. But all this serves to highlight one daunting fact: Sophia Coppola is an excellent film-maker, just not a very interesting one. If you disagree with me, feel free to through champagne in my face.

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