After watching Sophia Coppola’s new film, “Somewhere”, I now know what Bill Murray whispered into Scarlett Johansson’s ear in the middle of a crowded street in downtown Tokyo. It was: The Nintendo WI was a nice peace offering by the Japanese for bombing Pearl Harbor, don’t you think? Wait a minute the WI wasn’t out then, so what he really said was: Your hooters and my acne scars is a match made in Indie Heaven. Since when was sleepwalking considered acting?
I booed when this film ended because it felt like I just saw a headliner tank a set of undeveloped material that was passed off as high art by critics enamored with Hollywood royalty, instrumental indie riffs or insider takes on the Hollywood schtupp machine. Do critics kiss up to Sophia Coppola because it will encourage her to stick with directing and lose the acting bug so she never ruins a film franchise again?
As usual, Sophia Coppola uses a quirky, unheard of Indie rock soundtrack as a substitute for any substantial dialogue that makes you give a shit about what happens to her lame characters even though nothing ever does. What is Sophia Coppola’s legacy really? Holing up a bunch of blond sisters in Virgin Suicides in one house and making them look like smoking hot Siamese Cats? Giving Bill Murray the excuse to not be funny anymore? Or being the first American female director to be nominated for best director because nobody ever thought of making a cute, mysterious ending that’s perceived as ambiguous but is really downright lazy?
A great director is known for how well they coach actors yet her direction is yelling no action and to make sure that the actors keep their eyes open when they can. Between Bill Murray in “Lost and Translation” and Stephen Dorff in “Somewhere”, there must be a lost Ambian prescription stashed somewhere.
Less is not more in a Sophia Coppola film. I can’t think of another acclaimed director that has been built up for offering so little. But it’s my fault for being sucked into her dreamy, whimsical trailer that made LA and the Chateau Marmont sparkle in that sun bathed, California dreaming light. And how can you waste a cameo appearance by Del Toro in an elevator sequence at the Chateau Marmont knowing his history there with Scarlett Johansson? The fact that this film won the top prize at the Venice Film festival proves that Italian men will do whatever it takes to get into the sack with a female auteur. In an early scene, Stephen Dorff picks up a girl and two seconds later he passes out while going down on her. Just like Stephen Dorff, this film passes out on you before the party never begins, and that’s why Sophia Coppola is off the list.
Written by,
Josh Kornbluth
