Sofia Coppola seldom tells us what the young women of her films are thinking. Not when it seems to matter most, anyway. In Lost in Translationit is obvious that Charlotte Scarlett Johansson suffers from disillusionment, but in the intimate final moments between her and Bob Harris Bill Murraywe are denied access to the words he whispers into her ear and are thus uncertain about her thoughts at the end of the film.
It's a poignant portrayal of white middle class suburbia, where the cloying summer humidity is a metaphor for the claustrophobic atmosphere created by parents who are terrified of their children's potential to become adults. It's extremely uncomfortable to watch, even if you haven't read the book—also the debut by Pulitzer Prize-winning author Jeffrey Eugenides—and aren't aware of the imminent sun-soaked tragedy. It centers around young women unable to express themselves, imprisoned in their own ultra-feminine, frilly floral bedrooms, while their parents panic and doom themselves to more misery.
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Rewatched May 12 But what gets forgotten in this superficial praise —countless fashion shoots have taken cues from the close-up on Kirsten Dunst lying on a grassy football field in her floaty white dress under the rose morning light- are the virgin suicides themselves. And ironically, the film itself is all about how people, especially boys, were too fascinated by the girls to get to know and understand them.
That would be a nice change. It creates a nice air of mystery, evokes the 70s nicely, and deals with some interesting themes concerning voyeurism and loss of innocence. Most impressively, its tone is very assured and controlled, putting us in the middle of a strange, dreamlike landscape without eschewing humor or genuine sentiment.
Thirteen-year-old Cecilia Lisbon slits her wrists in the bathtub, and the paramedics take her to the hospital where she's cared for and discharged a week later. At the suggestion of her psychiatrist, her parents let their five daughters throw a party, which the narrators, a chorus of neighborhood boys, attend. During the party Cecilia goes upstairs and throws herself out of a window onto an iron fence spike, this time succeeding in killing herself, gruesomely and very publicly.
When the guys come to the house to take away the Lisbon girls, Lux stalls them so that the other girls can commit suicide. Therese takes an overdose, Mary puts her head in the oven and Bonnie hangs herself. The boys find Bonnie and run outside.
Lyrical, unrelentingly dark, and keenly attuned to the perils of being a teenage girl, The Virgin Suicides seemed to be one of a rare breed: a novel written by a man, from a male perspective a collective male perspective, no lessthat demonstrates the male gaze in order to actively critique it. That is, until I got to the ending. Then, I was livid. Why did you do this to me?
Sign in. A group of male friends become obsessed with five mysterious sisters who are sheltered by their strict, religious parents in suburban Detroit in the mid s. A man about forty years of age tells the story from when he was a teenager in upscale suburban Detroit of his and three of his friends' fascination with the mysterious and doomed Lisbon sisters. Inthe sisters were seventeen year old Therese, sixteen year old Mary, fifteen year old Bonnie, fourteen year old Lux, and thirteen year old Cecilia.