Coppola Mechanism: Francis and Sofia’s Different Portrayals of Loneliness
In between The Godfather and The Godfather Part II, Francis Ford Coppola directed another classic: 1974’s The Conversation. Gene Hackman plays Harry Caul, a San Francisco surveillance expert who delves relentlessly into other people’s lives. Yet after one assignment, which has him initially (just) eavesdropping on a wealthy man’s wife and her male companion, he eventually finds himself trying to save what’s left of his own life. The viewer, funnily enough in an inherently voyeuristic role, sees that it’s not much of a life to begin with (barren loft void of color or personality; awkward attempts at human relations, specifically ones with women). Yet Harry seemingly resounds himself to reclusiveness, a sort of Catholic-induced self-punishment for the guilt that goes along with doing what he knows is wrong.
Coppola’s still-relevant script touches upon themes of technological obsession, voyeurism and paranoia, and its last scene is solemn and unsettling. Slow-jazz saxophone plays over the scene, a disturbingly serene choice to show someone peacefully succumbing to the (literal) mess one has made of his life. While Harry keeps human interaction and emotional involvement at a literal faraway distance, there’s a character in another Coppola creation who wants to intentionally connect with others, but first, with herself.
Partly based on Sofia Coppola’s time in Tokyo during her early twenties, 2003’s Lost in Translation is one of the best at capturing loneliness. The scene when Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) calls a friend on the phone—a symbol of communication and connection—illustrates yet another way Charlotte feels dismissed and disconnected, not just a stranger in a new city, but worse, in her own life. As she sits alone in her hotel room, high atop and removed from the hustle and bustle of the city below, tearful gasps represent, in more ways than one, a longing to find home. The film’s soundtrack of dreamy, melancholic melodies and fuzzy feedback create a sense of… wander, and at times convey a hopeful reawakening for Charlotte, and actor in mid midlife crises, Bob (Bill Murray), both looking to feel refreshed after spending their lives in a (jet lag) haze.
Although both films are almost 30 years apart, Francis and Sofia show characters who are achingly lonely, yet the main difference is that one feels he deserves to be, the others are desperately trying not to be.
The Conversation: Paramount Pictures; Lost In Translation: Focus Features.
Watch “Hitchcock,” and Watch Hitch Watch
The classic film, Psycho recently turned 60. Here’s a review of the 2012 film, Hitchcock:
“Why do they keep looking for new ones, when they still have the original?” Just one of the questions uttered by the true Master of Suspense, Alfred Hitchcock (Anthony Hopkins) in the film, Hitchcock, directed by Sacha Gervasi. Based on Stephen Rebello’s book, Alfred Hitchcock and the Making of Psycho, the film traces the period after North By Northwest. The old adage of “You’re only as good as your last picture” starts to peck at the director, due, in part, to skepticism that Hitch could keep his streak going, especially at age 60.
Looking for his next project, Hitch and his trusted advisors, his wife and professional collaborator, Alma Reville (Helen Mirren) and assistant, Peggy Robertson (Toni Collette) search high and low for something that will stop those bent on looking for a new Master. Hitch discovers Robert Bloch’s book, Psycho, based on the life of the Wisconsin serial killer, Ed Gein. Not only having an appetite for sneaking drink and paté de foie gras, Hitch’s appetite for something unexpected needs satiating, and thus this question is posed to Alma: “What if someone really good made a horror picture?” Against all good sense, according to just about everyone around him—press; studio heads; even an initially reluctant Alma—he persists with the professional and monetary risk that is Psycho. The actress Janet Leigh (Scarlett Johansson) is cast to play the “bird,” Marion “Crane”; the actor Anthony Perkins (James D’Arcy) Norman Bates; the actress Vera Miles (Jessica Biel) Marion Crane’s sister, Lila.
Anthony Hopkins is credible and holds Hitch’s deep, garbled, slow-paced delivery, even saying quite convincingly the classic deadpan salutation, “Good evening,” made famous by Hitch as he welcomed viewers to his television series, “Alfred Hitchcock Presents.” Yet when Hitch, on set, directs Leigh in the scene from Psycho, where Marion is nervously driving her car, Hopkins’ vocal delivery slips, intentionally perhaps? One can’t help but hear the voice of Hannibal Lecter, Hopkins’ definitive role in The Silence of the Lambs.
Sound Familiar?
Hopkins - Hannibal - Hitchcock.
Orion Pictures. Cinematographer: Tak Fujimoto.
In Lambs, just as Lecter taunts Agent Starling during their first meeting, mocking in a southern drawl her “pure West Virginia” upbringing, speculating about her father being a “coal miner” and “how quickly the boys found you…sticky fumblings in the backseats of cars…,” Hitch taunts Leigh, calling Marion, “Daddy’s perfect little angel” and making reference to Marion’s “…sticky little lunchtime trysts with that oh-so-handsome failure Mr. Samuel Loomis.” Thankfully, the filmed highway on the screen behind the stunt car skips, causing Hopkins, now vocally back as Hitch, to stop the filming. Hitch then storms behind the blank screen, which casts his iconic silhouette, a self-referential silo added into most of his films.
Always in the Shadows
The iconic Hitchcock silhouette, as seen here in 1976’s Family Plot.
Universal Pictures. Cinematographer: Leonard J. South.
There’s also another predominant reference throughout Hitchcock. The Director of Photography, Jeff Cronenweth manages to frame shots that present several visual references to birds, creating a sense of foreshadowing to what would become Hitch’s next picture after Psycho, the aptly coined, The Birds.
Note:
Paintings on Hitch and Alma’s bathroom and bedroom walls.
The lampshade in the house library.
A silhouette of a bird over Hitch’s shoulder as he peers out through a set of blinds at Alma and her friend, Whit.
Bird sculptures on a liquor cabinet in Hitch’s studio office.
Birds flying low over the ocean as Alma and Whit talk on the beach.
A reference to birds in this John J. McLaughlin–penned screenplay: Vera Miles was contracted to do one more film for the notoriously involved, “he’s-always-watching” Hitch. As Biel’s Miles is changing in her dressing room, she says: “One more picture and I am free as a bird.”
Oh, Flock!
After Psycho came The Birds.
Universal Pictures. Cinematographer: Robert Burks.
The relationship between Miles and Hitch is also briefly explored. Hitch all but ignores Miles on set, and we later discover why; his focus is on Leigh, yet another fantasy blond, a style with which the director was famously enamored. Miles goes so far as to offer some cautionary advice to Leigh, after Leigh endures Dr. Lecter’s, I mean, Hitch’s relentless taunting. Hitchcock definitely highlights Hitch’s obsession with his work, and perhaps through speculation and creative license, the viewer is able to see just how consumed—voluntarily or involuntarily—he could be with his subject matter, no matter how dark and sinister. Disappointment by women play out often as well, providing a glimpse into Hitch’s sensitivity to feeling abandoned, so much so, extreme control at any cost was exuded.
On a related note, the film, rightly so, focuses equally on wife/mother figure, Alma, spotlighting how important professional collaboration and personal support are to the birth of a creative project, and in the case of Psycho, how the absence of this union could have easily resulted in something “stillborn.” Together, Master and Mistress of Suspense became the proud parents of, arguably, the best thriller in film history.