Lost In Translation

I watched Lost In Translation again last night... I'm convinced that Scarlett Johansson is going to be a huge film star before too long. When I saw her in Ghost World, I was, frankly, more interested in her character than I was in Thora Birch's. I think that Johansson says more with her facial expressions than most actors say by way of dialogue.

Of course, Bill Murray has probably never been so well-matched with a role as he was in this film. I'd like to think that no one else could have better portrayed the comic/tragic Harris, and I think that the matching of Johansson with Murray was genius.

Every time I watch it — this is the second time in a week — I can't help but imagine myself as Murray's Mr. Bob Harris. [Just now, the film's irony occurred to me — a lonely man, away from his wife on business meets a lonely woman whose husband is away from her on business.] What I tend to get "lost" in lately is the love affair between Murray's and Johansson's characters. What would I do? Would I have tried to slip into bed with her after a night of partying instead of simply tucking her in (as Murray did)? Would I have slept with the lounge singer? I'm quite sure it would have killed me inside to have had Charlotte discover that I had — particularly the way in which she did in the film.

I wonder about the younger woman/older man situation... Is it really that much different than any other relationship? Is loneliness the only reason such relationships occur? I personally don't think that Murray's Harris was obsessed with his growing old (the mid-life crisis thing)... I think he recognized true friendship and affection in Charlotte (while at the same time seeing the lack of connectivity with his wife). There are several moments in the film in which it's clear that these two people simply like being with each other — most notably, when Charlotte rests her head on Bob's shoulder after an evening of Karaoke. There is no dialogue, just simple, plain recognition that there is no other person she wanted to be with — be he 20, 27, 49 or 55.

As a 49-year old single male, I have friends who apparently feel it's their job to keep score with regard to my romantic life. For some reason, they can't quite get that my being alone doesn't necessarily mean that I'm lonely. They can't get that I don't worry about being single. I have been chided about missing many "opportunities"... "When the time is right," I say, "I'll know it... but until then, I'm not going to fret about it. It's not a huge priority for me. It's certainly nothing to worry about."

I guess I bring this all up in the context of discussing Lost In Translation because I wonder about the feasibility of such a relationship. As I have grown older, I've maintained an interest in women my age. I don't see their aged looks as unattractive — not in the least. But should my age disqualify me from being attracted to a younger woman. What if, as in the film, a difference in ages was nearly invisible when you looked closely at the relationship? It seems to be common belief that an older man who is involved with — or marries — a much younger woman he is merely chasing his vanity or grasping at his vanishing youth or is sexually depraved, and that the woman is merely looking for a father she never had.

There was not really much, though, about Lost In Translation that reminded me of Lolita, which had a purely prurient plot. The youngest woman I think I've ever gone out with was probably within three or four years of my age (my former wife is three years younger). It's easy to be attracted to younger women, though, but most times, my sixth-sense kicks in automatically as I make judgments about compatibility. Mostly, if I can't imagine long conversations about art, music, literature and politics — regardless of a woman's age — I move on.

Since I've been single, I've mostly been interested in women my own age (except, perhaps for one)... there's a great deal to be said for having a relationship with someone who has had similar life experiences. But at the same time, there are a lot of experiences that I likely missed as a result of being married with children. And I don't mean sexual depravity! It is so easy to fall in love with Scarlett's character (getting back to the film); so easy to believe that she's a real person; so easy to believe that she'd also fall for the likes of me. Despite her youth, her desires for a true companion were very real. It wasn't just her loneliness I felt — it was her desire to be a part of a big love.

As I watched the last moments of the film, Bob's and Charlotte's emotions were palpable... they had each found genuine dignity, love and respect in each other's company. Their embrace was between two very real lovers fighting off the distance that was soon to come between them. I think that it is the real-ness of that moment that makes me think, "Yeah, I could see that happening."