in defense: sofia coppola

this past october i think i reached the apex of my film geekdom. in december of 2005 sofia coppola released quite possibly the most beautiful movie trailer i have ever seen. the razza mataz of new order, fireworks, and kirsten dunst in a powered wig was perfectly alchemic and everything that gets me hot and bothered about movies. the trailer was for coppola's upcoming revisionist take on the french heroine marie antoinette. the anticipation building up to the film's eventual release in october 2006 was too much for words. i saw the film two and half times in the theaters and indulged in a marie antoinette themed pastry party after the second screening. my manhood may have been in question, but coppola roused an excitement in me, and i'm sure many others, that only happens with films that are breathing such vitality and truth that gorging on strawberry millefeuille is completely justifiable.

little did i, and probably she, known that this film in all its sherbet-hued glory would court such controversy and scathing reviews. for a such a bright, young filmmaker with brimming talent and such an interesting point of view, i am surprised, and not so surprised, that coppola has become somewhat of an easily criticized artist. for all the reviews that labeled 'marie antoinete' as 'hollow', 'superficial', and 'vacuous', there was also mention of her famous family, legion of equally famous friends, and her bourgeois upbringing of summers spent interning at chanel and vacationing at posh hotels and exotic getaways. i'm not entirely convinced that coppola's envious and seemingly 'cool' life is the real reason critics have a hard time swallowing her. most critics are middle aged men who write about an art form that is largely dominated by men, largely made for men, and made in a patriarchal culture. thus, it does not surprise me in the least bit that coppola's power and prowess as a filmmaker is threatening, but i say her talent should not be denied because her work is consistently growing in a direction that is heads and shoulders above what most her male contemporaries are even thinking.

with her triptych of films that are a loose trilogy of sorts, coppola has crafted films that speak a great deal about class privilege, a young woman's burgeoning sexuality, and the dynamic of power between men and women. the doomed heroines of her debut film, 'the virgin suicides', wallow in their untapped and dangerous beauty. their repressive suburban bubble shames their longing to be touched, which of course draws more boys to the yard, but in the end causes them to leave behind a dream of who they are, not a life full of rebellion and freedom. coppola's follow up and perhaps greatest stroke of subtle cinematic genius thus far, 'lost in translation' asks the audience to identify with a unique heroine. she has cute japanese friends, wears stylishly frumpy clothes, spends a lot of time in her luxury hotel window, and yet embodies the new middle class post-college ennui of life uncertainty. should we feel sorry for her or do we empathize with her? her stunted circumstance is only made that much more interesting when bill murray shows up and becomes her platonic paramour. this film is coppola's most financial successful film and earned her a deserved academy award for its original screenplay and a nomination for her able direction (the first for an american female). the pressure was on for the next film and coppola delivered a treat in the opposite direction of 'lost in translation's leisurely paced mood. explosions of champagne, decadent costumes, and opulent art direction in 'marie antoinette' marked in an interesting direction for coppola. her palette and scope were a little more grand and poppy, but she never lost the intimacy and reverie that has made her films so definitive and entrancing to watch.

however, coppola's world of frivolity proved too much for critics and audiences. the infamous booing at cannes and awkward press conference that soon followed set 'marie antoinette' on a troubled path. i must admit i was weary after its mixed reception, but my faith shouldn't have been so fleeting in coppola. when i finally caught 'marie antoinette' in theaters, i was witness to a work of art that was modern but never cold. i picked my mouth off the floor after that opening credit sequence of a reclining dunst and her hand maid slipping on a manolo blahnik slipper set to the tune of 'natural's not in it' by gang of four. the aggressiveness of post-punk guitar riffs and the ostentatiousness of the cake, the feather accented coif, and her self-aware glint was a cinematic moment that crackled with inspired originality and great observation. a young woman relishing in abundant pleasure is a rarity in american film. this pleasure drives the narrative and begs the audience to identify with such unabashed femininity and delight. the punctuation of the blondie-like bubblegum pink and hard black font that reads the titular character's name punches through the screen further establishing the anachronistic marriage between 18th century france and the nostalgia of the early 1980s of new wave music and mtv.

what does this reveal, if anything? what makes coppola such a fascinating artist is her ability to skillfully make films that are cinematic in the purest definition of the word. the sly editing, the contemporary pop music score, and the dreamy moods of coppola's work culminate in a true film experience. doesn't this make you forget that one of her best friends is marc jacobs and her dad was a master of american cinema in the 70s? much like the theme of the transition from girl to woman that has permeated coppola's films, i think her talent will only transition into a more mature and iconic direction.