Lost in Translation is one of my favourite films (probably because I'm a sucker for urban architecture, moody skylines and atmospheric soundtracks that don't walk all over the dialogue). I saw it again yesterday as part of the Tyneside Cinema's Tyneside on the Toon series, in the bowels of a hotel on Grey Street.
It sounds like a bit of an odd location - there were no views of distant skyscrapers, no artful neon signs and (thankfully) no inane American movie actresses or terrible lounge singers. But it kind of worked - helped by the free sushi (yay!), Asahi beer, a room decorated with bonsai trees and woodcuts, and ushers in white dressing gowns (odd, but good). Much better than sitting at home on the sofa surrounded by the distraction triple whammy of swirly carpet, washing up and the cat being sick on top of the telly.
I'd forgotten how lovely Scarlett Johannson looks in the film. Finally, someone who isn't a stick insect gets some screen time, and uses it to best effect. She also somehow manages to look cosy throughout, despite spending quite a lot of time in her pants - so I definitely want her wardrobe and her source of central heating. I darkly suspect her cardies to be cashmere, and not available down the local charity shop.