Social interactions mediated by substances: food, drinks, cigarettes, and everything in between.
The visual language in Lost in Translation is direct and emotional. Cramped spaces filled with Tokyoites, looming Kyoto Towers, and the impossibly elevated view from the hotel serve to externalize our characters’ often wordless, always pensive passage through Japan. They scream what another screenwriter might puppet in character dialogue or shot selection. Coppola seems comfortable with a long shot of spaces which mirror (and often, catalyze) the characters’ emotional setting.
But scaling our attention down to the ambient spaces, the tactile is also the emotional. Heretofore having spoken only a few words to each other, the clip below is the first prolonged conversation between our wayward protagonists, and Coppola turns to effective tactile acting and the symbology of substance to postmark changing relational contours of our unlikely couple.
The pack of cigarettes establishes Charlotte’s position at the bar before she does. She leads with it again after Bob’s initial quip, tapping it a few times against a table to drum up a question and guide the audience’s eye back to Johansson.
Rather than cede to Bob’s influence completely and order a Santori, Charlotte asserts her agency with a vodka tonic. She accepts the attempt at conversation.
A vodka tonic is perfectly ambiguous: assertive and simple. Coppola succeeds in mediating the age difference between Bob and Charlotte by through establishing Charlotte’s confidence and control in their interactions. A vodka tonic is confidence without bravado. They stand on equal footing.