Many years ago, when time hung differently than it seems to now and we both had fewer commitments, WotN (Adèle as was and indeed even now is) and I would sometimes do a cinethon, taking in two, or sometimes three, movies in a day and all of them in your actual cinema, not on TV or vid or DVD. There was on one occasion a difficulty in getting across London – from Curzon Street, as I recall, to Notting Hill – between the end of one movie and the beginning of the next, but the thing was accomplished. Anyway, yesterday we decided it was time to do the same thing again in a small way, not having done so in an aeon or two. True, it only involved stepping out of one cinema and into another within the same multiplex. But it was good.
First we saw Lost in Translation, then we followed up with Touching the Void. I recommend both.
The first is fine in many ways: as someone who isn’t one of the world’s greatest travellers, I felt a particular comradeship with Bob (Bill Murray), in his hotel room and more generally, with his obvious sense of ‘what the hell am I doing in this place?’ Scarlett Johansson, the other principal, was also excellent, and the look of Tokyo was made apt to the sense of lonely alienation of these two as they find a passing friendship, and more, with each other. I have a couple of reservations about the film which I won’t share here, not wanting to throw a spoiler; but there is one I can share, one discovered way back then with some passages in the movies of Michelangelo Antonioni. Watching someone else’s alienation – you know, Monica Vitti’s – can get dull. But all in all, Lost in Translation isn’t dull; it just verges on being so once or twice.
Touching the Void is something to see, period. It is… touching the void – a staggering tale, and a terrifying beauty.
A great night out, no worries.