Lost in Translation (Sofia Coppola) is a portrait of two lost souls yearning for purpose and meaningful connection. Bob (Bill Murray) is a fading Hollywood actor in a midlife crisis. Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) is a young woman apprehensive about her future. Both of them are at an impasse in their lives where they mutually feel neglected by loved ones and disoriented by the greater outside world.
“I just feel so alone, even when I’m surrounded by other people.”
The story takes place in the wacky and vibrant city of Tokyo, where an ocean of neon signs come alive at night as our protagonists do. Stranded in this surrounding and finding an odd solace and familiarity in their shared struggle, they unexpectedly encounter a blossoming intimacy that reignites their curiosity of life and sense of belonging; they both recognise something in their connection achingly pure that transcends physical consummations and verbose declarations of affection.
The whole film is so characterized by a compelling intimacy in which, as Bob and Charlotte undertake their awakening, allow the viewer to reflect himself and feel the same emotions as the characters have. Thus, I see this film as an intimate reflection of us, a journey that anyone, at some point in our life, has had or will have.