Culturebox: My Sofia Problem

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movies My Sofia Problem I wanted to love Somewhere, but I could not. By Dana Stevens Posted Wednesday, Dec. 22, 2010, at 6:00 PM ET I want to be one of those people who loves Sofia Coppola. I've been waiting for years now to see the things in this young director's work that so many of my smart colleagues do: a fresh, promising American voice (that much I'll grant) who's maturing and deepening with every film (that's where the Sofia-lovers lose me). I don't begrudge the woman her Hollywood upbringing or her scion status--many gifted directors, including Coppola's ex-husband Spike Jonze, come from privileged backgrounds, and it's certainly possible to be both the offspring of a great artist and a great artist yourself. With Herculean effort, I try to disregard Coppola's annoying persona in the press: the casually-yet-impeccably dressed, disarmingly soft-spoken designer muse, who I hope and assume is a reductive misrepresentation of the real person. But movie after movie, I find myself resisting the same things about the work itself. Coppola has a gift, I'll even call it a genius, for devising individual filmic moments that transport and transform both the characters and the viewer. She's the queen of fleeting brilliance, little glimpses of beauty and sadness and truth. When a director is 28 years old, as Coppola was when she made The Virgin Suicides, fleeting brilliance is bounty enough. All that remains of that movie for me is the music-video-like scene in which teen lovers Kirsten Dunst and Josh Hartnett make out in the front seat of his car, but I remember that scene as vividly as my own first kiss. Yet in the 11 years since, neither that Sofia movie nor any other has stayed with me as more than a delivery vehicle for moments. Bill Murray singing karaoke to Scarlett Johansson in Lost in Translation: glorious, but I still don't understand their relationship in that movie. Kirsten Dunst and her ladies-in-waiting consuming cakes and dresses to the sound of '80s pop in Marie Antoinette: scrumptious, but I might as well have seen that montage in isolation on YouTube. To continue reading, click here. Dana Stevens is Slate's movie critic. E-mail her at slatemovies@gmail.com. Join the Fray: our reader discussion forum What did you think of this article? POST A MESSAGE | READ MESSAGES Also In Slate The Most Productive Lame-Duck Session Since World War II Why Do People Kiss Under Mistletoe? How Architects Can Use Video Screens Without Making Their Buildings Look Like Sports Bars	Advertisement
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