Lost, and Found Again

The universe is so newborn, I have to hold it with both of my hands, and my tummy too. It's incredibly soft and tender, and I want to cover it with my flesh, because it's going to live in me. There's not even a word (at least in my vocab) for that condition. Before I went to see the movie, Sam - the Nottingham-by-way-of-Sydney, wonderful Sam - told me it's a film that's made for me. He was like, "You'd love it like I loved it. It's just you." I liked "The Virgin Suicides" but I usually detest anything or anyone that's forecast (by others) to be "me." So I thought twice about it. Then I saw the trailer in a store again as I was grocery shopping two days later. Something on Bill Murray's face made me freeze in the middle of everything - picking up the face cleanser, calculating the price and all that. Scarlett Johansson's eyes whispered words I wanted to shout out loud at that time. I was mortified right there, in front of the small television sets hung above the front entrance of the store, in the midst of the after-hour crowd. A drop of water, perhaps rain, fell on my right shoulder and made a micro-splash that felt cold against my skin. It put me back on planet Earth, so I paid for my purchase and headed home. That night I talked to Luke, my web designer/amateur filmmaker friend. We talked about the micro-splash and the feeling crept up on my skin and further inside. He goes, "Seen 'Lost in Translation' yet?" I sat there, mortified again. My friend probably guessed my reaction, so he said, "You should see it." But I hated all that hype surrounding it. I sometimes think, with an illegal dosage of jealousy, that Sofia Coppola is simply too lucky. On the other hand, she did her job well for "The Virgin Suicides," didn't she? The morning after saw me rise and shine with my freshly-doctor-appointed-creamed face and I felt like a darn good student. Got online to check my emails and checked in to Sondre Lerche's site. The first thing he mentioned in his latest journal entry was that movie. Now I couldn't handle this curiosity that stirred my stomach anymore. I felt funny and uneasy, somewhat like the feeling you get before going to your best friend's wedding and you're wearing your boyfriend's shirt. So I rushed to the theater after lunch and a stroll with my mom in the park. (Warning: spoilers!) It didn't disappoint me. In a way, I wasn't really sure what to expect. In fact, I was pleasantly evoked - there's empathy, fond memories, false hopes and many other things I can't name individually. The song played near the end, "Just Like Honey," lingers in my ears even after I got home. Scarlett Johansson was exactly everything the critics raved about and I was stunned to learn later that she was only 19. The breezy Charlotte has something that every girl possesses. I can't call myself a Bill Murray fan, but his performance was impeccable in the film. (I loved his rendition of "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding") Sofia Coppola made it crystal clear that this is a tailor-made movie for him and he did shine like he used to do in his earlier works. (Speaking of which, I enjoyed the brief moment where he sat in his hotel room and caught the younger himself in an old movie on TV.) The final goodbye between Charlotte and Bob gave the film a powerful ending - for the ability to break your heart. No, you wouldn't see the big sappy thing. The director kept the whisper private and by doing so, Coppola didn't only own the two winning tickets from the actors but also captured the "How close is close? And how far is far?" ambience. It just all meshed. Back to the new universe. I held it tight against my chest and fell asleep with it, the nightmares from the past couple nights far away. PS. I didn't really think about "why Bob (Charlotte)?" until I read this. I still don't mean to read into it, but it makes interesting discussion.