4 stars

http://www.eye.net/eye/issue/issue_09.04.03/film/lostintranslation.html

Talking about Lost in Translation isn't easy. Sofia Coppola's lovely, thoughtful follow-up to The Virgin Suicides is very much about what goes unsaid. As two lonely travellers try to find some solace in each other's company, their silences become as telling as their conversations.

So here are the highlights from two appropriately odd conversations with writer-director Coppola and actor Scarlett Johansson about Lost in Translation, which makes its North American debut at the Toronto International Film Festival before going into wider release Sept. 19. Johansson, who stars in it alongside Bill Murray, calls while driving to the airport in New York. "I'm a little wiped out but I'm trying to zest up," she says. She just wrapped a five-week shoot in New Orleans and is now heading out to film festivals here and in Venice. She describes the festival experience in these terms: "They give you free dinner but then you have to sell your blood." Nevertheless, she's cheerful as she rattles on about everything from Coldplay to the greatness of the defunct sitcom Family Matters. "Why is it that everybody in the generation above me hates Steve Urkel?" she asks rhetorically. "I can never understand that."

A few days before, the writer and director of Lost in Translationcalls from an office in New York. Coppola apologizes for feeling spacey and she's as quiet as Johansson is ebullient. Our conversation is tentative enough to resemble the exchanges in the movie's early scenes, which detail a bittersweet series of communication breakdowns. "I just wanted to show that no one's connecting," says Coppola in a sleepy, faraway voice.

Johansson -- whose sharp performance here confirms that she is the very coolest of 18-year-old movie stars -- plays Charlotte, who's visiting Tokyo with her rock music photographer husband, John (Giovanni Ribisi). She's just finished a philosophy degree and is unsure where her life is heading. Also staying at the same hotel is Bob Harris (Murray), a Hollywood actor in Japan to do some commercials. He too feels aimless. Unable to speak Japanese, they are estranged from the culture around them, but they are also unable to talk to their spouses -- John's too busy to notice Charlotte's moodiness and Bob's phone conversations with his wife are all about home decor.

In a beguiling, dreamy fashion -- perfectly complemented by a soundtrack that includes the first new recordings by My Bloody Valentine noise-pop maestro Kevin Shields in 12 years -- Lost in Translation shows how Bob and Charlotte make the connections they need, not only to each other but to the city. The story grew out of Coppola's own experiences visiting Tokyo. She felt inspired by "the visuals and what it feels like to be there and how strange it is to be in a foreign place -- that whole experience. I wanted to show the way the neon looks at night. I just had some enchanting days there and wanted to have those in a movie."

Coppola captures the violent neon blur of Tokyo's nightlife as well as its more serene side. Inspired by the '60s cinema of Antonioni and Fellini, Coppola sought to make a movie that was very much about "wandering around and observing things" and the film is an often startling visual tour. Tellingly, it's only when Bob and Charlotte escape the antiseptic comforts of their hotel and venture into its streets and karaoke bars that their relationship intensifies.

"I wanted to do a romantic story," says Coppola. "It kind of started with the Bill Murray character. I was just really drawn to the idea of him having a mid-life crisis. I just related to that and felt there was a similarity between that midlife crisis and the kind of early-twenties crisis Charlotte experiences. They're reflecting on similar things but from opposite ends of it. I thought they could offer something to each other."

She developed the script with both of her leads in mind and it's difficult to imagine a better showcase for either actor's talents. As the haunted, caustic Bob, Murray delivers the performance he's been heading toward since Rushmore. "I always liked Bill Murray and was thinking about him in Bob's situation," says Coppola. "And he is so funny and smart that if the story became sappy, it wouldn't be with him in it. I also thought Bill in a kimono would be funny."

Coppola had been a fan of Johansson since seeing her in the indie hit Manny & Lo. "I remember being struck by this 10-year-old kid and her little husky voice," she says. "I met with her for this and to see if she was old enough and had the right demeanour. There's just this quality of her that's very calm in this place where everything's so crazy. She can convey emotion without doing much."

Johansson successfully conveys that stillness despite the haste and chaos of the shoot. "It was like guerrilla warfare filmmaking in Tokyo," she says. "The whole crew would be draped in black sheets, huddled in the corner of all of our hotel rooms. Lance ran around with the camera, shooting everything from me clipping my toenails to whatever else you could get on celluloid. It was all very strange but we did it."

When Johansson saw the finished film, she found it easy to see the director's personality in it. "Sofia was very close to the story, obviously," she says. "It's very personal for her and I definitely think she wrote about a feeling and a place that was familiar."

Indeed, the magic of the film is in how well it captures a particular kind of relationship, one that is so special largely because it is so ephemeral. Coppola's voice loses its vague tone when she expresses the surprise she feels when people tell her they can relate to the movie.

"I didn't think it was so universal," she says. "I was just making the movie that I wanted to make and I didn't know anyone else would be into it. It's nice to know there are some universal elements in it."

Another reason Lost in Translation is inspiring such affection is that Bob and Charlotte's relationship is not the typical stuff of movie romances. Instead, it's bound up with all sorts of other feelings -- at times, Bob's interest in Charlotte is more paternal than carnal. Fraught with confusion and sadness, their connection feels real.

"It's a very multi-layered friendship/relationship they have," says Johansson before launching into a freeform monologue that involves last week's MTV Video Awards show, her directorial ambitions and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. "And it's interesting, too. You leave the theatre and you're still talking about the characters. I haven't done that since Finding Nemo."