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Which brings us to another oddball movie from a Second City alum: Lost in Translation .
Yeah, it's kind of obvious. Everybody knows this is Murray's finest performance, blah, blah, blah. But, lest you forget, this movie is like The Apartment , which was also billed wrongly as a comedy.
There's very little funny in this flick . It's an art-house movie, through and through. Take the soundtrack, featuring the likes of French pop bands like Air and Phoenix. Or look at the pseudo-jokes, generally involving that staple of art-house movies, sexual frustration.
Of course, the reason this movie works so well is because, despite of all the sexual frustration, Murray never sleeps with the youthful, bouncy Scarlett Johansson. Otherwise the movie would have been worthless.
Not only does he resist Johansson, but he also resists all those fine Asian ladies, choosing to score with a crappy Anglo lounge singer instead.
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