The Clairvoyant Zoopraxiscope

I had dinner with someone on Friday night who expressed hatred for numerous things. One of them was Lost In Translation--and perhaps it was the Merlot, or perhaps it was something in the lobster they used for the lobster ravioli I had (excellent--although most consider Pesce Pasta to be middlebrow, the food remains Dependable, which is more than one can say for so many joyless highbrow restaurants)--but I was persuaded. He was bothered by the indolence that ran through the movie: the indolence of Scarlett Johanssen, the depressed indolence of Bill Murray (Tokyo's a big city, and all he could manage to do was karaoke-ize 'More Than This'?). And as a matter of fact, watching Sofia Coppola standing and delivering (and receiving) last night, she frequently looked quite indolent herself. But how could that be? It's a willful indolence, perhaps.