Sofia Coppola: chronicler of silence
It could be an insult to call Sofia Coppola the "Queen of Boredom". After all, boredom is a condition that the modern world would like to eradicate. Boredom does not consume, does not make a career and does not make any smart comments, boredom just sits around staring holes in the air. In short, it is wonderful, because in no other state is man so close to himself and his soul situation.
It is a compliment to note that there is no one who can better understand this condition than the director, scriptwriter and daughter of Francis Ford Coppola. The amazing thing is: For 42 years Sofia Coppola leads a life that could not be more exciting. This is solely due to their illustrious heritage of pure cinematic nobility: Father Francis is a cofounder of "New Hollywood" with cinematic milestones such as the "Godfather" trilogy. Her cousins Nicolas Cage and Jason Schwartzman are sought-after actors, as is her aunt Talia Shire (best known as the wife of "Rocky"); Sofia's brother Roman also writes and shoots feature films.
The playgrounds of Sofia's childhood were the film sets of her father, the "family bear," as she calls him. Because he did not crank down his epic works in a few weeks, the children and their mother always moved with them, for example to the Philippines for the 15-month shoot of "Apocalypse Now." The costume designers sewed dresses for Sofia's dolls, the masked women plaited their braids, the family friends who came for dinner in the evening were all actors, fashion designers and artists.
In the bright light of the big screen, the little Coppola built filmmaking into her DNA - after she had been baptized into developer fluid, when Dad needed a baby for "The Godfather I" and used his ten-week-old daughter. "My dad has always encouraged me to be creative," says Sofia Coppola. "His motto was: Try everything, eventually you will find your way."
So instead of letting herself drift through a daddy-funded party life like other celebrities, Sofia has dedicated herself to art and pays homage to it with great seriousness. For example, she only filmed her first film "Virgin Suicides" because she wanted to "protect" the underlying novel, she says, without exposing him to the risk of being lovingly filmed by someone else.
There is always something to read, to discover or to design in her life - a screenplay, a soundtrack with her second husband (the French pop wonder Thomas Mars from the band Phoenix) or sometimes a handbag for designer friend Marc Jacobs. There is really no room for boredom, especially as she also has two daughters who, with the right music, the right films and museum visits, also try to introduce her to the world of the fine arts.
"It worries me today that every event has to be recorded on the mobile phone right away, as if experience had no value if you did not have an audience watching it," says Coppola. "It also scares me that the trash culture is now accepted as mainstream, especially because I know that my daughters have to survive in this world."
Yet, the world of idleness, where money does not matter and no one has to work to secure basic human needs, is, of course, right in front of the picture window of her productive existence - even if she tries to keep her daughters away from the prospect, Sofia Coppola has one at any given time excellent view of it. Her films are like endless, soft orange glittering summer days and softly drunken nights; all the contours softly blurred, as in a '70s photograph: the somnambulist sisters in "The Virgin Suicides", who must remain in the rigidity of their strict parents' home. The young Charlotte in "Lost in Translation", which wanders aimless and speechless through the madness of Tokyo.
Marie Antoinette, day in, day out in Versailles, waiting for her purposeful husband to finally feel like witnessing the heir to the throne. The action star Johnny Marco in "Somewhere", who has nothing to do between his blockbuster movies, asleep before strippers and endless laps to turn his Ferrari. And currently the youth gang from "The Bling Ring" (in the cinema from 15 August), which almost suffocates in privileged idleness and therefore begins to enter the homes of celebrities. Sofia Coppola is a master at simply tolerating moments of silence. Not just on the canvas.
Even in interviews, it seems as if she has to listen to each question within a long time, until somewhere an echo is thrown back. She is the woman for moods and hunches.Her father's cinematic heritage has taken such a beating in Sofia Coppola's bloodstream that she trusts the image more than the word: "I'm more interested in what people do not say." In many films, people say big words about what they are feeling 'In normal life we have more non-verbal methods to express ourselves.'
This goes so far that in "Lost in Translation" she simply whispers the key phrase that at the end of the film could classify what the viewer saw in the 101 minutes before, simply by Scarlett Johansson in Bill Murray's ear. Inaudible for everyone else in the hall. You can not have more confidence in the visual power of the cinema. For the film she received the 2004 Oscar for best screenplay. For some viewers, this is almost narcotic.
But those who first let themselves in on Coppola's form of "Slow Watch" get a feeling for the sounds that sound so quiet in our lives that they are usually shouted down by the big-time mum of the caressed present. These are the spheres that the director finds exciting, even if at first sight they seem to be tense. "My films are so decelerated because I want to look very closely," she says. "Our everyday life is full of distractions and chatter, because I just want to pause." Then the chronicler of silence is silent again. It would not be easier for the world to understand how much productive power it can withstand boredom.
