SPIKE JONZE LOST

New shit has come to light. I thought, after watching The Virgin Suicides, several years ago, that I was in love with Kirsten Dunst. You see, normally I would never be attracted to that "perky blonde type with slight depression". Then last year, like everyone else, I saw Lost in Translation, and fell in love with Scarlet Johansen. Now she's a blonde. (At least in that movie.) Hardly perky, but slightly more depressive. I fell harder, but stil...not really my type. I don't even know why I am obsessing over this so much. I mean I have Nicole, right? She's blonde. She's beautiful. She's a foreigner. She's wildly thought of as perky. But the secret depression thing - that's my real cup of tea. For the sake of my rant, however, let's leave her out of this.

This weekend I watched Lost in Translation for the second time and it all became clear. I am in love with Sophia Coppola. Granted, she didn't actually write the source material for The Virgin Suicides, but she did do everything else. And to do what she did in those two movies was genius. She took these moments between two people (Kirsten and Josh Hartnet / Scarlet and Bill Murray) and made you ache inside. Made you think you were missing out, no matter how fulfilling the relationship you're in. Made you think you had no idea what love is. Or passion. Or those intense unspoken moments between two people that only seem to exist in that alternate reality of film. People that have seen these movies - do you know what I speak of? Sensitive artistic guys that have seen these movies - you KNOW what I speak of. The good pain that one is left with upon viewing these movies leaves traces of junior high in your bloodstream. That's the only way I know how to say it. Your heart and your soul are screaming and you just want to find a girl - maybe on the streets of Tokyo - and give her some pathetic scrap of colored construction paper with a heart and a check yes or no box and wait for the gift of lasting make-out sessions filled with bubble gum flavored lip gloss kisses and incidental touches of her arms and feet and time. Lots of lingering fragrant time.

It is clear to me that this goes beyond any acting break-through. This is much deeper than any surface affinity I might have for Scarlet or Kirsten. This is about a director that has me ripping my hair out with grief over the loss of something that I never loss. How does she do that? I don't know, but it got me thinking about Sophia in The Godfather III, and how everybody bitched about her performance. I didn't think she was half bad. In fact, I kind of liked her. Thought she was cute. Very cute. And Italian. Like me. And with dark hair and she had these moments with Andy Garcia that were kind of hot. You know, with the pasta dough and all. In fact, I think I'm going to get out my copy and watch it right now. And after that, maybe The Virgin Suicides one more time. And then, hell, I just watched it, but I don't think I'll ever get tired of the torture that Lost in Translation brings.

How does one woman have so much insight into the psychology of human connection? At this point, I've stopped asking questions. Maybe Nicole will get cast in one of Sophia's movies. Wouldn't that be swell. And let me just say this: Spike Jonze, you do some cool movies too, but you're an idiot. When you have someone who thinks that way about feelings like that. When you have someone who can express the notion of love and attraction in a way that puts the world in a sort-of romance coma. When you have someone like that and you walk away from her. You walk away from her while we all watch. And starve to death. Well, you're an idiot.