Love Bill Murray. Love Rashida Jones. Remember liking LOST IN TRANSLATION a lot when it came out, although haven't seen it since.
So I was looking forward to seeing this new film from writer/director Sofia Coppola and starring Murray and Jones. Unfortunately, it's a dud.
Jones stars as a young wife and mother who begins to suspect that her husband (Marlon Wayans) may be cheating on her.
She's not sure what to do, so she lets her wealthy but ne'er do well father (Murray) talk her into following and surveilling the husband hoping to catch him in the act -- as dad is convinced or -- as she hopes -- to prove there's nothing going on. Father and daughter -- whose relationship has had its ups and downs -- bond as they stake out the hubby, an activity that eventually takes them all to a gorgeous resort in Mexico.
This is supposed to be heartwarming, I think, but I found it to be pretty creepy. The idea of a wife surveilling her husband to find out if he is cheating or not might have been a workable premise for a movie (although it might be better suited for a sitcom). However, the idea that this adult woman's father is instigating it all adds a very strange element to the story -- there are moments when he actively encourages her to think the husband is indeed cheating, even when the evidence is pretty flimsy, which leaves us with the impression that the father is eager to break up his daughter's marriage, which seems like a really horrible thing for a father/parent/human being to do.
And adds a subtle Oedipal element to the story -- the father seems to be competing with the husband for the daughter's love -- that I found to be pretty uncomfortable.
And that daughter is so easily manipulated by her father makes us think a little less of her than I would imagine Coppola intended us to.
There's also a weird (seeming) lack of awareness regarding privilege.
Jones and Wayans both have glamorous jobs (she's a writer; he runs some kind of hipster startup something that has him flying all over the world all the times) and live is a stunning loft apartment in one of those New York neighborhoods that used to be a crime-ridden, heroin-shooting shithole and is now an exclusive enclave that only the 1% can afford. Murray is an incredibly successful, incredibly rich art dealer for whom money is never an object. Good for them, i guess, but it makes Coppola's attempts to portray Jones as a regular, overwhelmed, borderline dowdy wife and mom feel pretty unconvincing. And that she even attempts to do so makes her feel pretty out of touch.
Murray and Jones are both as good as they can be, but the movie doesn't give them much to work with.
Finally, it's not clear what sort of movie this is supposed to be. I think it was meant to be a comedy, but it's not really funny. But it's also too silly be a drama. Ultimately, it isn't much of anything. And, like most modern indie-type movies, it's flat (there are no real highs or lows, no big or clever set pieces, no significant emotional pull -- it just kind of chugs along on the same dull level until it finally ends) and has absolutely no scope or scale (when the history of this era in cinema history is written, it will be notable how many movies are set in a just a few rooms with no meaningful exteriors. It's weird.)
It's only an hour and a half, though, so it has that going for it.
