Sofia Coppola?

[npcoombs]

I tolerated the Virgin Suicides and Lost in Translation, but after seeing Marie Antoniette I see her as the sort of poison which rubbishes the idea of cinema as anything meaningful. Im sure she's a great fashion photographer and socialite blah blah but to render one of the most interesting periods in history like this is shameful. Who gave her the money for this? For what purpose?

[Evan Kubota]

This is interesting... I just saw Marie Antoinette yesterday and I thought it was very good. Some of the money came from Japan (Toho, IIRC), which seems to be common trend among many recent and worthwhile efforts ;)

For me this felt like it had more of something that wasn't as derivative as Lost in Translation (which I still thought was okay). I wouldn't go so far as to call it a completely original style, because it isn't, but I thought the film did far more things right than wrong. Films like this are *not* the problem in my opinion - look to Paul Haggis and Michael Bay for two different and equally repugnant methods of destroying American cinema.

[steve hyde]

..have not seen it, but I do like Kirsten Dunst and I thought "Lost in Translation" was very well done. "The Virgin Suicides" was an overproduced student film in my opinion.

Nathan, what is the problem with her new film? Evan, what did you like about it?

Steve

[Evan Kubota]

Specifically, I found the structure of the narrative beautiful in its simplicity. The script was clearly well thought-out; this was certainly not an improvised film. There is no voiceover, but a great degree of interiority is achieved. Actually, this is the subject of the whole film, which is possibly why it alienated so many people hoping for a 'historical' piece.

The visuals are excellent, the score works well, good acting, etc. but all of this only enhances the structure, which was the most compelling aspect for me.

[etimh]

I've seen Marie Antoinette and enjoyed it quite a bit, actually brilliant in many respects. Like both of Coppola's previous efforts, Marie Antoinette really does require some considered thought and reflection to appreciate--you need to let this one resonate with you.

The "lightness" and apparent superficiality of the narrative, style, and performances in the film, which seems to be the focus of most of the negative criticism, are in fact a very intelligent translation of many of the principle historical assertions made in the source material on which the film is based (Antonia Fraser's popular but controversial revisionist history about the queen, Marie Antoinette: The Journey). A thoughtful reading of this book is essential in rethinking the historical events of the film, and also in understanding some of the strategies of Coppola's film.

One of the primary assertions of Fraser's account, that Marie Antoinette, far from being the simple historical caricature of past studys and popular myth, was in fact a study in paradoxical contrasts. The facts of these contrasts and are certainly accounted for in the sweep of the narrative and production design of the film. But a real tension emerges in how these contrasts manifest in elements that are kept at a distance and just out of reach. Hence, I beleive, the percieved "superficiality" and lack of depth. Yet I would assert that it is precisely in this space where the "meaningfullness" of the film resides.

Like the historical figure of Marie Antoinette herself, the film embodies all of the contradiction and paradox that is inevitable in any consideration of the historical past. Not only is Marie Antoinette, the film, relatively fresh and unique in its interpretation of the actual historical circumstances of the people and events of the period, it is also an interesting critical commentary on the construct of "history" and the historical enterprise in general.

Oh Steve, I'm disappointed about your take on The Virgin Suicides. I really think there's something interesting there.

Tim

[steve hyde]

....interesting.

I'll have to go have a look at this film while it is in all the mega cinemas.

Tim, I didn't find much in the Virgin Suicides. For me it was a forgettable film. I saw it many years ago and remember walking away thinking it was an overproduced student film. What was it that captivated you? Again, I really liked "Lost in Translation" and I enjoyed following the New York Times magazine stories that built up to the release of the film. "Lost in Translation" was a very well thought-out production. I think it's brilliant.

Steve

[etimh]

. What was it that captivated you?

I think its useful to remind ourselves what exactly we're talking about when we say, for instance, "a Sofia Coppola film." Part of the problem with npcoombs original post in this thread is that he dismisses the whole of Marie Antoinette not by a critique of the film text(with all that entails), but in vague comments about Coppola's skills, or lack thereof. Well, you are a smart and experienced guy so I won't presume to remind you about the collaborative nature of commercial filmmaking. Romantic auteur theories and contemporary film-marketing practices aside, "directors" of commercial films today are just one contributing factor in any film's finished form.

I point this out because, like npcoombs attribution of a film's success or failure to its director, your evaluation of a film's merit based on it being a "well thought-out" production seems just as limiting. I'm not sure if you are, in fact, talking about a finished film in all its manifestations when you use the term production. But your use of the same language in critiquing The Virgin Suicides as being an "overproduced" student film reveals the pitfalls in such language.

Consider the case of Sofia Coppola, for instance. When we qualify a film directed by Sofia Coppola as a "Sofia Coppola film," we are really talking about a whole array of complicated issues and factors that need to be considered. Of course, you certainly first need to talk about Coppola herself--the most important fact is that in addition to directing her films she is also the writer (two adaptations and one original). You might also take into account the considerable production and technical resources she has at her disposal, her personal aesthetic predispositions and tendencies, her pedigree and life history, etc. The considerations are really endless, but all are potentially relevant.

As I hope I suggested in my discussion of Marie Antoinette above, I always attempt to understand a film as a multi-faceted and multi-dimensional "text" that quite often transcends the actual film text itself. This includes looking at all issues related to a film's inception, production, aesthetics, and reception (to name a few). My background is in cultural studies so I tend to approach film criticsm like this intuitively and compulsively. Not always a fun, easy, or productive exercise but sometimes surprising and intereseting things are discovered. Like considering the original source book for Marie Antoinette in an attempt to get a fuller understanding of the film itself. In this case, it was particularly revealing.

So what about The Virgin Suicides? Well, there is, indeed, a whole lot of stuff going on that could be considered interesting above and beyond the film's "production" (though I'm not sure the limitations were as apparent to me--I really like the film's aesthetic style and the directing, editing, etc. all seem "competent"). Otherwise, you could start by first consider the Jeffrey Eugenides novel that Coppola adapted. It is quite a powerful exploration of memory, history, and very explicitly, male identity. Coppola did something absolutely fascinating in the adaptation when she shifted the emphasis of the narrative to the story of Lux and the Lisbon sisters. The narrative voice of the young boys is still there in the film in an important way but the film essentially becomes a story about how the boys and their lives are fundamentally changed BY their experience with the Lisbon girls; not IN SPITE OF them, like it is in the novel. The Lisbon girls in the novel are forever "unknowable" to the boys and this lack is the cause of their psychic wounds. In the film, by contrast, the girls' ultimate "unknowability" becomes the central focus of the story as we explore and discover the tragedy that is their lives. Coppola, while still maintaining a great deal of fidelity to the thrust of the book, transforms the film into a powerful exploration of female identity.

Interesting stuff. To me, that is. But that is just one reading of one aspect of the film. As I said, I really like Coppola's visual style (often influenced by Terrence Malick as can be seen quite vividly in The Virgin Suicides). I also think that her music sensibilities are quite good and the period and contemporary tunes used in TVS are almost magical in their evocation of the time and place of the story. I listen to the soundtrack all the time.

Okay, that's it--I'm supposed to be writing tonight and I'm procrastinating. I think its a fucking great film, what more can I say?

Tim

[npcoombs]

I don't have much more to say than has already been put more eloquently in a number of reviews of the film.

But I do have a number of points:

1) This film is by an American and seems to be much more popular among Americans than it does here.
2) I attribute this to the following reasons:

A) The general banality of US cinema
B) The aesthetic distancing from the reality which the film attempts to show (you never did or still have despotic monarchies)
C) The lack of any form of socialism or questioning of your own capitalist monarchies.

3) Therefore, films about the most amazing period of European history being reduced into a high-school teen drama probably don't bother you as much as they do me or many people in Europe.


Queen BeesSofia Coppola and Marie Antoinette have a lot in common.

By Dana Stevens

Posted Thursday, Oct. 19, 2006, at 6:06 PM ET

Sofia Coppola is the Veruca Salt of American filmmakers. She's the privileged little girl in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory whose father, a nut tycoon, makes sure his daughter wins a golden ticket to the Willie Wonka factory by buying up countless Wonka bars, which his workers methodically unwrap till they find the prize. If Coppola's 2004 Academy Award for best original screenplay for Lost in Translation was her golden ticket to big-budget filmmaking, Marie Antoinette is her prize, a $40 million tour through the lush and hallucinatory candy land of 18th-century France. Of course, Roald Dahl's insufferable Veruca Salt was eventually seized by angry squirrels and hurled down a garbage chute. Will Coppola suffer a similar fate when Marie Antoinette opens this Friday?

The film was simultaneously booed and given a standing ovation at Cannes, and reviews have been not just mixed but fiercely divided. Like licorice, Marie Antoinette is a confection you either love or hate, and both affects seem tied to your feeling about the director herself and her apparent identification with Louis XVI's bride. For my part, I can definitely say that I love licorice and hate Marie Antoinette. But I'm still wrestling with the enigma of Sofia Coppola.

Given the film's cavalier treatment of their country's history, French critics, understandably, head up the haters' brigade. Agnès Poirier, the London correspondent for Libération, scoffs, "There are two things [Coppola] likes, dresses and pudding. ... Cinema is for Coppola a mirror in which she looks at herself, not a mirror she holds to the world." But many critics on both sides of the Atlantic defend the film, in indulgent language that often seems to apply to its creator as well. To Entertainment Weekly's Lisa Schwarzbaum, Marie Antoinette is "the work of a mature filmmaker who has identified and developed a new cinematic vocabulary to describe a new breed of post-postpostfeminist woman." (The triple negative threw me for a minute, but I think she means "not feminist.")

To be fair, dresses and pudding are perfectly lovely things to contemplate, and Marie Antoinette makes them look exquisitely desirable. It does the same for lingerie, upholstery, wigs, babies, and sheep. What's impossible to tell is what, if anything, this film has to say about its objects of desire, its subject herself, the waning years of the French aristocracy, or the present day. That Kirsten Dunst's dimples are irresistible? That lavender and turquoise look good together? That it's really fun to have unlimited amounts of cash?

There's no question that making movies is, at least in part, always a matter of shopping. A director must select, and find a way to pay for, the right cast, the right music, the right cinematographer. And, as this recent piece in the Times travel section shows, Sofia Coppola is a peerless shopper. The movie's signature set piece is a montage of Louis-heeled Manolo Blahnik shoes in Easter-egg colors, filmed in fetishistic close-up to the strains of Bow Wow Wow singing "I Want Candy." It's exhilarating in the style of a high-end television commercial or magazine fashion spread. But, by linking the excesses of the French court of the 1780s with the pop culture of the 1980s, does Coppola intend to suggest that we're overdue for another revolution? Or just that, then as now, les filles just want to have fun?
If you follow Sofia Coppola's press coverage for a while (a project not recommended for those with a glucose intolerance), you'll read how Coppola manages to mystify and charm her interlocutors with trailing-off sentences and evasive mumbles. You'll also come across frequent admonitions from critics to "just go with it." It's as if she's the blushing rose of cinema, requiring protection from the harsh winds of unfavorable attention. References to her embarrassing casting as Mary Corleone in The Godfather, Part III (1990) invariably celebrate her fortitude in surviving the savagery of the film's reviews. But the negative critical response was justified; it's hard to think of a more amateurish performance in a major Hollywood release of the last two decades.
I'm not saying that Coppola is without talent as a director. She has a keen eye for composition, impeccable taste in music and fashion, and a nice sense of understatement. The Virgin Suicides was haunting, if slight, and Lost in Translation goes an amazingly long way on nothing but setting and mood. But it's possible to believe both things: that Coppola is a filmmaker of promise and that her path to success has been cushioned, not only by her place in the Coppola family, but by her own savvy image-management. She cultivates the persona of a shy, melancholy, and effortlessly glamorous girl wandering through a strange new world, bemused by the accolades heaped upon her—a persona that's replicated in the dreamy, glazed female protagonists of all three of her movies so far.

These qualities have seduced, among others, fashion designer Marc Jacobs, who named a handbag after Sofia (retail price $6,950) and made her the face for his Essence perfume. "If I were a girl," Jacobs has said, "I'd like to be Sofia. She's very feminine, and very quiet. I'm sure she works quite hard, but it all seems effortless." Doesn't it just? Sofia's father, Francis, named one of his Napa Valley sparkling wines after her: The label describes the beverage as "revolutionary, petulant, reactionary, ebullient, fragrant, cold, cool." At least one of those adjectives, "reactionary," might arguably sum up Marie Antoinette as well.
In a Vanity Fair profile last month, Evgenia Peretz wrote about the director's nontreatment of the rioting French proletariat in Marie Antoinette: "In neglecting them she has unwittingly taken a political stance." Unwittingly? It seems disingenuous to suggest that a movie about the fall of the French monarchy could be anything but political. I don't ask Coppola to be unsympathetic to the young queen, or even to devote any screen time to her arrest and decapitation. (The film ends abruptly as Jason Schwartzman's King Louis XVI and his queen flee Versailles in their royal coach after the storming of the Bastille.) But just because the film's heroine has nothing to say about politics, revolutionary or otherwise, doesn't justify Coppola being similarly dumbstruck.
"It's not like I'm a royalist," Coppola protested in a recent interview, when asked about her curiously blank take on the French Revolution. I'll take her word for it, but you'd never know it from the movie she's made, which is at least as nostalgic about the ancien régime as Gone With the Wind is about the antebellum South. Coppola's heroine lodges a similar protest in the film upon hearing about her alleged wish for the starving masses to nourish themselves on cake. "I would never say that!" the queen comments, shocked, to her ladies in waiting. According to the Antonia Fraser biography Marie Antoinette is based on, she never did say those actual words—but the rest of the film shows her as exactly the kind of person who would say them, so what's the difference?

Peretz's Vanity Fair profile begins with the kind of protective disclaimer that Sofia Coppola tends to evoke from journalists: "It might be tempting to dismiss Coppola as a ditz who has successfully parlayed her famous name, the right clothes, and the right friends into an overblown image." As a matter of fact, it is; so much so that, like Coppola's young queen faced with a Sèvres platter of Ladurée macaroons, I simply must give in to temptation.

[npcoombs]

Specifically, I found the structure of the narrative beautiful in its simplicity. The script was clearly well thought-out; this was certainly not an improvised film. There is no voiceover, but a great degree of interiority is achieved. Actually, this is the subject of the whole film, which is possibly why it alienated so many people hoping for a 'historical' piece.

The visuals are excellent, the score works well, good acting, etc. but all of this only enhances the structure, which was the most compelling aspect for me.

Wait a minute, let me return to this. The script was no thought out at all in my opinion, it was aimless and full of meaningless dead-ends. Everyone in the cinema was yawning and people were leaving. Not that the masses are the final word in the quality of a script, but for a thematically banal, popcorn movie like this, boring people is the final straw.

After Marie settles in her new home in France the film heads downhill, there is nothing really to propel it forward and no context of the impending revolution to add a tension between the court's decadence and the famine and civil upheavel outside. I have no idea why Louie wasn't interested in sex with her and no idea why he suddenly did. No idea of the relevance of her affair with the Swedish general. No idea from this film why a film about her is even neccessary.

The acting ranged from adequate to banal. Steve Coogan was notibly awful, the supporting cast were good but Marie and Louise were rendered poorly. Dunst is likeable but doesn't commincate anything interesting about the queen: no doubts, no deeper feelings, nothign but a love of shoes and cream cakes. How did she go on to become a respected martyr?

Apart from the cinematography there is nothing I liked about this film. Sofia's contempt for the masses is clearly apparent by their complete no-inclusion except as a dirty, non-ideological mob. If you visit the gift shop of the Coppola ranch in Napa you can probably see where she gets her ideas about the working class from.

[Evan Kubota]

...normally I'm among the first to jump down a director's throat for their personal characteristics if they produce a movie I don't like. But here I have to step outside myself for a bit.

The Dana Stevens piece is sort of ridiculous in the sense that virtually all the objections to the film are based on Coppola - her life, her father's crappy-wine-megaventure, her performance in Godfather III. While there's nothing unusual about this sort of criticism, I'm still capable of ignoring it when I watch the film.

Don't get the wrong idea from this forum. The film was not popular among Americans at all, and the reaction in the multiplex where I saw it was largely negative. On the other hand, at Cannes the split between standing-applause and booing seemed to be about even.

Also, I frankly couldn't give a shit whether/how the film incorporates, explicitly or otherwise, commentary regarding the proletariat and socialism. This is like insisting that every World War II film address the Holocaust and the 'rape of Nanking' in equal measure.

Criticising the film for what *isn't* there seems to me to be more a case of mistaken expectations rather than some inherent issue with the film. It is what it is. In this case, Coppola, a director whose only earlier films I have seen (Lost in Translation and that somewhat crappy short, Lick the Star) thrived on a sort of contrived vapidity, has produced something that initially appears to be equally empty. (Did I enjoy Lost in Translation anyway? Yeah, I guess so.)

Don't be deceived by the how shallow the movie appears... what you take for a lack of direction, etc. in the script may show that its priorities are simply different than establishing a strong 'forward movement' in the narrative. To me, this is clearly a conscious choice and not just the result of a sloppy or poorly-conceived script (especially as the rest of the film is so rigorously controlled).

Sofia's contempt for the masses is clearly apparent by their complete no-inclusion except as a dirty, non-ideological mob.

To play devil's advocate for a moment, isn't this what they were? Transposing some sort of coherent, valid ethical or ideological program among the masses during the French Revolution seems totally disingenuous with what I know about the period, and indeed what can be known about it today.

Finally, a lot of the backlash towards this film seems to be because it carries the expectation of a 'period piece' and ends up going in a totally different direction. As an objective exploration of that time, it's probably not successful. As a subjective exploration of identity and 'being' that happens to be set in a representation of an era, it's entirely successful.

Finally, whether you hated or loved the film, it's not accurate to paint it with the same brush as most of the tripe that plays in the multiplex. Even if you hold that it failed at whatever it attempted to do, at least there was a conscious, intentional construction beyond the level of basic and profoundly obvious narrative structure and aesthetics that do nothing other than push forward the holy yoke of PLOT aka WHAT HAPPENS.

(Yes, I'm delaying a paper also)[/quote]

[npcoombs]

Also, I frankly couldn't give a shit whether/how the film incorporates, explicitly or otherwise, commentary regarding the proletariat and socialism. This is like insisting that every World War II film address the Holocaust and the 'rape of Nanking' in equal measure.

Money is allocated to make certain films and there is always a strong ideological wind that directs what gets included or not.

Anyway in this case it is vitally important because the ONLY thing interesting about Marie Antoinette was the fact that she was at the helm during the outbreak of the French Revolution. Take out the French Revolution and her historical character is entirely redundant.

Sofia's contempt for the masses is clearly apparent by their complete no-inclusion except as a dirty, non-ideological mob.

To play devil's advocate for a moment, isn't this what they were? Transposing some sort of coherent, valid ethical or ideological program among the masses during the French Revolution seems totally disingenuous with what I know about the period, and indeed what can be known about it today.

I don't know what you've been reading, but they certainly weren't just bloodthirsty barbarians after those sweet and gentle cream cake eaters at Versailles. The French monarchies utter contempt for its own people, in tandem with its own lack of power, was quite unique among the European monarchies. The very fact that Versailles was its own city, and the king and queen were not located in the centre of Paris is odd. It was a ruthless period no doubt, but the 'mob' (the derogatory term for people who have no power but are driven to claim some of it, usually against much better armed forces) were driven as much by the political agitation and progressive theories in Paris as by base hunger.

As a subjective exploration of identity and 'being' that happens to be set in a representation of an era, it's entirely successful.

Evan, you have to be winding me up with that statement!

[Evan Kubota]

I don't know what you've been reading, but they certainly weren't just bloodthirsty barbarians after those sweet and gentle cream cake eaters at Versailles. The French monarchies utter contempt for its own people, in tandem with its own lack of power, was quite unique among the European monarchies. The very fact that Versailles was its own city, and the king and queen were not located in the centre of Paris is odd. It was a ruthless period no doubt, but the 'mob' (the derogatory term for people who have no power but are driven to claim some of it, usually against much better armed forces) were driven as much by the political agitation and progressive theories in Paris as by base hunger.

I am by no means justifying the actions of the monarchy, or the fact that progressive ideology played some part in inciting the 'people' to revolt. I'm just questioning the validity of what they 'achieved,' which seems obvious given the context. Wajda's "Danton" is a fairly good picture of the excesses of the revolution.

Take out the French Revolution and her historical character is entirely redundant.

Perhaps, from your perspective, but wouldn't this nicely explain why the movie was so 'empty'?

[npcoombs]

I am by no means justifying the actions of the monarchy, or the fact that progressive ideology played some part in inciting the 'people' to revolt. I'm just questioning the validity of what they 'achieved,' which seems obvious given the context. Wajda's "Danton" is a fairly good picture of the excesses of the revolution.

Yes but the 'reign of terror' is unique from the revolution itself; the revolution was the uprising, the terror came from the inability to organise a new and just power quickly enough. Power vacuums tend to lend themselves to reactionary horrors, but adopting the cool head of hindsight the revolution was actually much less bloodthirsty than many civil wars and conflicts.

When the Paris Commune was crushed almost as many were killed. And who remembers that?

[etimh]

Wait a minute, let me return to this...

Although I really don't agree with most of your assessments of the film, I do understand and appreciate where some of the criticisms arise. However, as I've tried to make clear, the characteristics of the film that you find particularly unsatisfying--"aimless and meaningless dead-ends," and the "thematic banality"--can, in fact, be read as contributing to an important quality of the film's expression and interpretation of the subject matter.

What am I saying then--that the fact that the film may be "boring" (according to some reviewers) should really be considered and understood not only as intentional, but as "successful" too? Well, yes, that's what I'm saying. Think about your comment where you state, "After Marie settles in her new home in France the film heads downhill, there is nothing really to propel it forward." Exactly. All of the sequences which relate the craziness at Versailles, the partying, etc., are mediated by contrasting sequences of languid melancholy. In this regard, the film attempts to reflect in its form the particular historical circumstances of the characters and events depicted.

Of particular note is the lengthy and quiet scene where Marie distractedly wanders around the crowded and opulent gaming salon, completely overcome with ennui. This moment is indicative of a specific tone the film adopts throughout--perhaps best described as "measured," but certainly not "boring"--that perfectly communicates the nature of these characters' lives. Despite her priveleged circumstances, Marie is indeed unsatisfied and essentially bored out of her mind. Despite something official or diversionary going on in her life at all times, nothing is really happening.

Except, as has been noted, outside the isolated confines of the Versaille palace. But in relation to the criticism of the film's avoidance of this aspect of the history, Coppola's shrewd choice to minimize any acknowledgement of the tumultuous political crises functions not only to critically focus the narrative but also comments on the isolation and seeming ambivalence of the royals and their aristocratic peers. Once more, those aspects of the film which have been identified as deficincies seem to be conscious and effective narrative and/or stylistic strategies.

As I said, the film seems to be consciously engaged in exploring contrasts and paradoxes that manifest themselves in the gaps, absences, and fissures of historical determinism. While this definitely results in a film with a uniquely challenging tone and perspective, I just don't get the description and evaluation of this film as "boring?" Do we consider, for instance, Antonioni's The Passenger "boring" simply because of its deliberate pacing and percieved ambiguity?

Very interesting comments in your posts Evan. Thanks.

Tim

[mattias]

the most amazing period of European history being reduced into a high-school teen drama

you make that sound like it's a bad thing. what good is history if it doesn't tell us anything about our own lives today? and we've been over this before but you *really* need to dig deeper into american cinema. i mean how could know anything about it if you only watch the "generally dull" stuff? ;-)

/matt