it's a mixed bag

i want to like coppola but this is a lesser version of a movie she already made

the good:
- it's a semi-accurate representation of los angeles
- coppola is skilled at establishing mood w/o necessarily getting emotional
- some of the comic timing is ace (e.g., the girl's "maybe you should try volunteering" response as dorff sobs on the phone)
- song selection (even though i hate phoenix)

the bad:
- dorff's character is much emptier than characters of the antonioni films coppola is referencing. he's sort of hard to care about unless you are a rotten "actor in los angeles" type
- some of the shots are frustrating (e.g., when he's getting his face molded)

** ish

Watching this film, I was reminded of the life and death of John Lennon, the slain former Beatle whose music, personal life, and political/social beliefs have become pop culture legend. The man who wrote or co-wrote several songs describing a life spent in the public's fishbowl, including "The Ballad of John and Yoko," "Watching the Wheels," and "Fame," the David Bowie hit. Lennon, of course, "retired" from recording for a time after the birth of his second son, Sean, becoming a self-described house husband. My point is, Lennon's time on earth raises interesting questions regarding how public figures (our beloved film and television stars, musicians, etc.) lead personal lives (raising children, for example). Sofia Coppola's fourth feature, following The Virgin Suicides, the instant classic Lost in Translation, and Marie Antoinette, explores such questions. It is also an ethereal, yet tough portrait of spiritual isolation, as well as an often hilarious, almost satiric trip through a certain self-indulgent Los Angeles milieu.

The protagonist is Johnny Marco (Stephen Dorff), a famous actor. In the film's first scene, which consists of a single (long, static) shot, the audience sees him driving his Ferrari, engine roaring, in circles in the desert. The symbolism is not hard to spot: despite his success, this is a man who is lost, with no clear path in life. Marco lives in the iconic Chateau Marmont hotel, which Led Zeppelin once rode motorcycles through and where John Belushi died. His eventful, but not purposeful existence at the Chateau Marmont is shown in several well-crafted scenes, not least of which is a synchronised pole dance by blonde twins. As "My Hero" by Foo Fighters plays on a small stereo, the pair climb up and slide down portable poles in perfect unison. If this scene lasted 30 seconds, it might have been arousing. However, as it goes on for three-plus minutes, the situation becomes grim and unexciting. Their act--cold professionalism behind an erotic lustre--wears thin. On the bed, Marco is bored and falls asleep in front of them. This scene reflects several others throughout the film; what should be colorful, dangerous, exciting (the life of a movie star!) instead feels bland or even grotesque.

Into this situation comes Marco's eleven-year-old daughter, Cleo (Elle Fanning), at first for a scheduled visit and then for longer when her mother leaves for undefined, Kramer vs. Kramer-esque reasons. Cleo, it's clear, is a good daughter, talented and warm, perhaps better than either of her parents deserve. In one aching, beautiful scene, Marco watches her ice skate. In another, she prepares eggs Benedict for her father. Through these simples scenes, a poignant portrait of a father/daughter relationship emerges. She is strong, but needs and desires a more consistent parental presence. He is adrift, but realizes she is the way forward. These conclusions are never forced upon the audience, though. The insinuations are as subtle as the pace is deliberate. The film creates the illusion of lives led in real time, but on the silver screen; the audience becomes a group of therapists, watching quiet scenes unfold and forming opinions based on observed behavior. Dorff and Fanning deliver resplendent performances. There is, of course, no grandstanding from either. They don't Act the roles of Marco and Cleo so much as they slip into them, natural, as if they were sweaters. Also, bravo to Sofia Coppola for joining Oliver Stone (World Trade Center) and Michael Mann (Public Enemies) in contributing to the revival of Dorff, an actor far too attractive, magnetic, and talented to waste away in direct-to-DVD fare.

As with Coppola's past three films, technical perfection is achieved. D.P. Harris Savides, whose past credits include Zodiac and this year's Greenberg, can do no wrong behind the camera. Shots following Johnny Marco's Ferrari as it rides through several different landscapes--crowded Los Angeles streets, the desert outside Las Vegas, etc.--are gorgeous. Coppola's musical taste is also unblemished. Utilizing "I'll Try Anything Once," a sparse, tender Strokes B-side from their First Impressions of Earth era, proves ingenious; it compliments and reflects the film's themes just so. French band Phoenix (Coppola has two children with lead singer Thomas Mars) provide a scarce, but potent score. "Love Like a Sunset," a two-part song from their most recent album, is also used.

This is such a moving, well-crafted film. It shows a slice of a specific character's privileged life, but also feels universal. If you have ever been depressed, or felt as if you were drifting through life, even when surrounded by people, then I wager you will connect with Somewhere in a deep and powerful way. It is another gem from a cinematic artist who has overcome furious cries of nepotism to prove she has a challenging, unique, and often beautiful voice, a voice which must be heard.

A

"i've got two words for you: powerhouse"

ew, really?

Yay!

One of the most blunt and expository scripts I've seen in a while. I knew it was headed in a wrong direction when Johnny literally gets a text saying "Why are you such an asshole?" in the first 5 minutes. Thanks Sofia, we really needed that with what feels like a full hour to start the film (aside from ice skating scene) of Johnny walking around proving he's an asshole with an empty life. It seems like everything we're supposed to know about Johnny's life is simply bluntly stated to us in a conversation. It might as well be Lost in Translation 2: A Movie Star's Empty Life written and directed by Paul Haggis

As for Dorff's character, he just comes off as a random guy. Not much going on under the surface, not more intelligent than anyone, not that charismatic, seems like he'd fit like a glove with regular people. Just a guy who got lucky. I suppose it's the point he's so ordinary, but it's not very interesting to watch. I prefer the tantalizing womanizing talents who's gifts make them unable to mesh with people in Murray in LiT, fake Fellini in 8 1/2, or Don Draper. I guess Dorff is well cast because like Mark Wahlberg in Boogie Nights, being blank is the point. Still though when it feels like Chris Pontius (yes the Jackass guy) is outacting you, it's not a good sign

I'm shocked Sofia made the decision to have all the sexpot characters as one dimensional jokes. Yes, they were supposed to be caricatures and as empty as Dorff sees them, but I have a feeling if a male directed this he'd get some heat for not treating them as humans.

With all this said, it's still C level watchable just because I think Sofia is that talented behind the camera. But that's all this has going for it. It's empty camera porn.

That really surprised me. It's hard to believe a female made this film. Seemed like something only a man would be behind.


As for the film though, I quite enjoyed it. Some shots are tedious, yes, such as the opening scene with him driving around the race track and of course the face sculpting scene, but for the most part it was a nice film and I found it more interesting than I expected. I thought Elle Fanning was simply wonderful in it and it's the chemistry between her and Dorff that make the movie what it is.

I'd give it a B. Might have been a B+ but the ending really didn't do anything for me.