19 October 2003
Grandview Cinema
MY DIET WAS GOING WELL and I hadn't seen a movie in weeks. But it all ended last weekend when one of my roommates carelessly left an Adaptation DVD on the coffee table. On a Saturday afternoon the temptation was too great, and I gave in and watched it all in one sitting. And then, the very next day, I found out Lost in Translation was playing just down the block at the $5 theater. Two movies in two days: I was binge watching.
On the upside, both movies were pretty darn good. My particular favorite, Lost in Translation, impressed me with its subtle charms and gave me a serious Japanese nostaliga fix. That's the good news.
The bad news came later, when I went on the internet and found out a bit about the film I had just seen. I knew, of course, that Sophia has a famous last name. Even though I'm too young for the 70's, I'm a fan of her Francis Ford father's work, i.e. like everyone else in the country I loved The Godfather; and the film he made immediately afterward, The Conversation (starring Gene Hackman), is fantastic. Furthermore, I had by chance seen both Sofia's debut effort, The Virgin Suicides, and CQ, Sofia's brother's mediocre movie. Hey (I thought at the time) those Coppolas are making some movies. I guess I'm a fan. No big deal . . .
But then I found out, thanks to the IMDB, that Sofia is married to Spike Jonze, a key member of the talent behind Being John Malkovich and Adaptation (not to mention one of the producers of the surprisingly good Jackass: The Movie). Not only have I been enjoying the work of Mr. Jonze (ne้ Speigel, heir to the catalog fortune) on and off for the past few years, but now I find out that he and his wife are responsible for most (if not all) of the latest good movies. I was starting to get perturbed.
My pertrubation might not have been so bad had Lost in Translation not been Sofia's blatantly autobiographical jab at her husband, Spike. The main chacter, Charlotte, is a rich misunderstood smartie in her mid-20's who happens to be married to (and largely ignored by) a hotshot rockstar photographer (f.y.i., Spike Jonze got his start making videos for MTV). When I'm mad at my girlfriend I might write her a nasty email, but when Sofia Coppola is mad at her husband she writes an excellent movie about loneliness and unrequited attraction to much older men. In hindsight, I felt like I had watched a documentary about dirty laundry. Why couldn't Sofia have just screamed at him, and broken a few plates or something? (Who knows . . . perhaps she did. She's Italian, after all.) But why drag me into Coppola family matters?
Once I start perturbing I can't stop, and the IMDB wasn't doing anything to slow me down. I continued down the biographical Sofia Coppola connections and found two cruel names: Nick Cage and Jason Schwartzman. It turns out both of these fine men are Sofia's cousins, direct decendants of the Francis Ford line. It seems Nick Cage changed his name from Coppola when he started his career so that he could "make it on his own." (Fat chance, Nick.) Cage is, of course, an acting giant, but I was starting to feel used as a shoeshine rag. It was as if each member of the ever-widening Coppola clan was vying to win my approval. Perhaps it was all part of some Coppola Christmas game: whoever can rack up the most street-cred gets to carve the turkey. And to make matters worse, Schwartzman and Murray were the two stars of Rushmore, my special little indie gem. Must everything good bear the name Coppola? Is Bill Murray involved? How much does he know? Wes Anderson . . . not you too? How long has this been going on?
It's time we all opened our eyes to the truth. There exists a vast good-movie mafia, and its godfather is Francis Ford. The irony of the situation couldn't be more striking: one man makes a movie about the death of an all-powerful family, and thus assumes the mantle of power. Self-prophecy, life imitating art, birth of the information age, etc. Jeepers, it gives me the creeps. Quite frankly, I'm scared to delve any deeper. Is there a Federal Moviegoer Protection Program?
Nutritional Equivalent:
A bag of Sushi Cannoli
