Categorising ‘Lost in Translation’ is a difficult thing to do. Maybe if I say that it’s a film which showcases the subtle talents of Bill Murray at their very best you’ll have an idea, for here Murray scales the same peaks as he did with his fine work in similarly quirky fare such as ‘Groundhog Day’, ‘Rushmore’ and ‘The Royal Tennenbaums’. Playing a disillusioned actor forced to prostitute himself making cringe-worthy ads in the absence of other work, initially Murray’s character Bob Harris can’t even bring himself to look at the billboards that display his face to the whole of teeming Tokyo where he’s come to film. As Bob, Murray scrunches his features to such great effect it is as if the lines in his face are hieroglyphs imploring someone to come and save him from himself. And the person able to decipher the signals he sends is Scarlett Johansson’s Charlotte, herself trapped in a marriage she no longer feels nourished by, and who happens to be staying in the same hotel. What ensues is the document of the relationship that develops between them in the alien environment of Japan’s megalopolis.

The thing that makes Coppola’s film such a rarity, and the chief reason, I think, to treasure it, is that we learn as much about the two protagonists and their feelings for each other by what isn’t said as much as by what is. There are some exquisite moments in the picture, often set to perfectly sympathetic music or filmed with exactly the necessary flourish or restraint: a particular standout being when Bob reaches out to Charlotte, lying next to him on a hotel bed, and touches her by the foot. ‘Lost in Translation’s’ power is derived both from the strength of the bond that is established between the two drifting souls and the speed with which they become so close, in very stark contrast to the inadequate relations they have with their respective spouses. Of course, setting the film in a culture as difficult to fathom as Japan’s, serves to emphasise the central theme of communication and understanding, with the two leads probing at each other’s feelings even as they struggle to come to terms with Tokyo’s strange mix of serenity and sensation. How appropriate that they first realise the intensity of their connection whilst performing their own idiosyncratic versions of Eighties hits at a Karaoke session during a night out.

Johansson has told in interview of how relaxed the shoot was, that Coppola’s insistence on having wine on the set helped create an atmosphere in which everyone could thrive. Watching ‘Lost in Translation’ is an experience akin to drinking a couple of glasses and wondering if you are up for more; that moment when you stand on the see-saw of inhibition and release and are perfectly balanced. As we see Charlotte and Bob achieve an enviable bliss we can’t help but be transported there too. Like Bob sings when prompted by his autocue, “What’s so funny ‘bout peace, love and understanding?”