Comparison Of Lost In Translation And Marie Antoinette

The two films, Lost in Translation and Marie Antoinette by the auteur Sofia Coppola, start in similar ways. Lost in Translation opens with a thirty-four second shot of Charlotte’s (Scarlett Johansson) backside and Marie Antoinette begins with a short scene of Marie lounging and being pampered. She dips her finger in icing and eats it then looks directly at the camera, smirks, and lies back down. While these two scenes seem entirely different, they actually have the same effect, which is to make the viewer aware of their gaze. In the former the audience grows uncomfortable as the shot lingers on. We are used to seeing women in underwear briefly for steamy scenes, but when we realize it is just an ordinary women resting in bed it makes us feel

I think most people are used to looking at a film a certain way and don’t realize that the style can actually play a role in the content and message. A major idea in Coppola’s version of Marie Antoinette is questioning what or who makes up the identity of a person. We don’t hear much from Marie in the film but we hear plenty of others’ opinions and judgments on her appearance and how she should be acting. There is juxtaposition here because as an audience we do the same thing. Perhaps we all think we know her story, just as every adaptation hopes to put the truth out there, but in reality these are depictions based off our ideas and opinions instead of Marie’s own story. I think this movie sheds light on the notion that the whispers and gossips and instructions given to Marie are what create this character, even though we see the story through her eyes. Instead of claiming this was a realistic adaptation of the story, Coppola makes sure the audience is aware that it is about something more (in this case, the concept of identity and our own role as spectators in the making of one) by using ‘80s rock as the soundtrack and having the actors talk in English with US accents, to name a

She has access to heaps of delicious food but is told when to eat. She has a big, beautiful bedroom that is filled with strangers at the most vulnerable hour – waking. She has all the French dogs she could ever want but not the one she loves. She seems to have it all but really she has nothing, only the body we saw in the middle of Austria and France. She has no control over her life except in shopping and sweets so it is no wonder why she consumes these, as well as gambling and partying, as a form of escape. She is trying to fill the void, feel something, control something, provide herself with much needed comfort and purpose. The uncomfortable, frivolous, plastic world is made apparent through the constant background noise of squeaky clothing. Most of the people she meets are fake and two faced and impossible to connect to in any real way. As an audience, we soak in the beautiful images, enthralled, as it is our own form of escape. This parallel is no coincidence, “[Coppola] invokes the style (“eye candy”) only to make the audience fully aware of their desire to consume nothingness” (Kennedy). Watching the pretty cakes and flowers makes us feel happy and alive as we sit staring at a screen, until we realize that women are constantly objectified and we’re constant participants in the objectification. Coppola’s films are anything but simple and shallow. They have a layer of depth that all women and hopefully men