"Oh my God, I almost wore my candy-cane striped suit too!"

Sofia Coppola. Damn.

It's only her second film, you guys, and . . . wow.

It's tempting to say, "Well, it's in her genes, isn't it?" But you know what? Screw her father. ** (Francis Ford Coppola, in case you didn't know.) She is so her own filmmaker, with her own style and her own perspective.

Okay. Review.

Two Americans cross paths in a hotel bar in Tokyo. Bob Harris is a middle-aged movie star, in town to make a quick buck or two (million) doing an ad for whiskey. Charlotte is just out of college and tagging along with her inattentive husband, a photographer who's there to shoot an up and coming rock band. Neither can sleep, both are lonely and bored and feel disconnected from their surroundings. As their casual encounters grow less casual, they blur the boundaries between friendship and romance in ways that defy easy explanations.

Either they're about to burst into song, or Godzilla has just appeared.

Bill Murray, that master of underplayed emotion, plays Bob with a regretful weariness. His marriage has grown stale. He loves his children, but has missed a lot of time with them because of his career, which is no longer satisfying. He's selling out in Japan when he should probably "be doing a play or something." But he plays along, forcing smiles for his hosts, trying to please his manic director. Until he meets this young woman, someone he can talk to, who renews his spirit. The performance is wry, poignant, insightful, hilarious, sympathetic, subtle. If there's any justice, there'll be an Oscar nomination for him come February. (Prediction: there is no justice.)

Scarlett Johannson is nearly as good as Charlotte. She glows like a warm ember with intelligence, insecurity and an earnest longing. If the performance is less successful, the characterization a little fuzzier than Murray's, perhaps it's because Charlotte herself, still trying to find her place in the world, isn't as well-defined, which is probably the point so I'll just shut up now.

"Yeah. Natural blonde. Right."

As a writer, she has the honesty to not go for the easy way out. Bob and Charlotte could have been a typical May/December romance, but rather than get all sweaty they just get intimate. They could bond over flirtatious dialogue and seductive glances but instead they talk. They could ride off into the sunset together, but there's something more romantic about transience and longing. It's a curious and satisfying journey, and Lost in Translation is really just an exquisite film, with an ending as beautiful and enigmatic as love itself.

** This statement should not be construed as a slam against Mr. Coppola who has made many fine films of his own. I was just being emphatic.

Gorilla Pants rating: 4 out of 4 bananas