Having the Francis Ford Coppola as your father and Spike Jonze as a (ex) partner must be a walk in the clouds where all runways lead to the red carpet. Not that I'm proposing another behind-the-cam political affairs.

It is effortless to assume that American actor Bob Harris (Bill Murray) and Philosophy graduate Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) finds Tokyo the worst place to be. Outnumbered by Niponggo-speaking lords, they turned to each other for solace. Alienation, I believe, is not the sole source of this loneliness. Both of them have uncertainty they deliberately packed with them. Uncertainty they yearned to disclose to their English-speaking oved ones yet reciprocated with coldness.

They have the option to use Tokyo as an escape, but they chose alcohol. They have the option to vent out, but it is more therapeutic if confessed to a complete stranger. They have the option to openly profess their love for each other, but they yielded to pain.

After watching this, I have a new addition to my esteemed list of auteur filmmakers. I laud how the minimal use of tight shots were utilized to express how big the world appears to them and the seemingly dragging pace to convey how long a day is for them. Their awkward exchanges silently stab me with frustration and their suppressed but firm refusal to sleep with each other actually made me cross my fingers.

Since Murray is a comedian, it is inevitable to fall prey to his spell. However, humor was supplied at the Japanese culture' s expense. We saw bits and pieces of ikebana, the local marriage rites and arcade fandom but since the characters opted to be aliens, we remained uneducated, too. Besides, we have the liberty to watch Lonely Planet instead if that were our aim.

It is noteworthy how Sofia Coppola expressed her disdain towards blonde bimbo Cameron Diaz as portrayed by the flat character of Anna Faris. Oh, how I love 'masturbation in films'!