The Most Important Thing in Life is LOST IN TRANSLATION

“Lost in Translation”. He – a middle-aged actor going through a crisis. She – a bored wife of a busy photographer. Lost Americans find themselves in Tokyo, a city so lively, so dense, so overwhelming that, paradoxically, it deepens the sense of loneliness that the protagonists feel. A feeling which, as we know, is best countered together.

The story of Bob and Charlotte does not follow the trivial, straightforward, and unrealistic assumptions of a typical love story. And that’s where its uniqueness lies. It’s not about a relationship full of passion, grounded in romantic love or sexual attraction, but about simple, human understanding – something that can sometimes be so hard to get, even from those closest to us. The communication barrier between the protagonists amplifies the sense of being lost, while simultaneously expressing the longing for that very understanding.

“Lost in Translation” is one of the most important films of my life. Writing these words, I want to strip them of any quotation marks, taking full responsibility for them. However, I have never viewed the film in terms of its quality or pure aesthetics. In my recurring reflections on Sofia Coppola‘s memorable work, it’s often the raw emotions that take part, which each encounter with the film still stirs in me. I then notice two things: how the film remains relevant thanks to its effortless and subtle tone, and that even fifteen years after seeing it, we are still able to notice those elements in it that resonate closely with our own experiences – regardless of where we are in life.

Because “Lost in Translation” is a film that, regardless of when or where you watch it, always conveys the same, accurate message, which is literally laid out in its main slogan: that, in truth, words don’t really matter all that much because what’s important is what lies between them. In behavior, gesture, and attitude. It may be an obvious truth, but it’s crucial for building lasting relationships.

Years ago, Coppola’s film accompanied me during my awkward romantic conquests. Not knowing how to strike a balance in showing affection to a girl, I became a victim of my own need to impose my feelings on her. I was suggesting a presumed connection that never existed, yet I stubbornly believed in it. Additionally, I hoped that the mutual admiration for “Lost in Translation”, shared with this girl, would eventually lead to her understanding what was hiding between the words I expressed. Later, I realized that, in fact, she was sending a message to me – to slow down and remain in a friendship zone that was safe for her but not necessarily satisfying for me.

Years passed, and I decided to use Coppola‘s film to conduct a test with another romantic interest. I wondered if I could get her interested in “Lost in Translation”, if I could encourage her to join the protagonists in their sadness. I welcomed the idea of hearing words of admiration that highlighted the beauty of the relationship between Bob and Charlotte. By the time the credits rolled, however, I already knew something was off – the new girl simply “liked” the film, and I saw no hint of a chance that she would develop the kind of sentiment I felt. What initially seemed like a disappointing lack of connection, I later recognized as fate.

That’s how I met my future wife. I realized that it was her stability that caught my attention. It was her prudence and solid grounding, contrasting with my dreamy head-in-the-clouds nature, that impressed me the most. Finally, it was her unshakable certainty that, unlike the film’s characters, she would never truly be alone, because she always had herself – the eternal companion she saw every day in the mirror and smiled at. Her attitude finally made me understand that, regardless of whether I could stand on my head or reach for the stars for her, only she would ultimately decide what to do with it and whether her inner self was ready to have companionship. Because the only real condition for a bond between people is mutual willingness for it to exist, and mutual consent to it, with acceptance of each other’s separateness.

The concept of loneliness in “Lost in Translation”

This also led me to reflect once more on the concept of loneliness. I came to the conclusion that one of the most undesirable feelings we experience, which the film’s protagonists jointly resist, is also the feeling to which each of us is, in fact, condemned. Loneliness is an integral part of every one of us. In what sense? Each of us is a walking individuality, who even after finding a soulmate will always remain someone who perceives the world through a filter known only to them. We’ve been given just one pair of eyes. All communication problems, not only in relationships but in human interactions in general, are nothing more than a lack of understanding of this fact.

The whispered farewell in the ear – that unforgettable finale of “Lost in Translation” – I interpret in just one way. No matter how close we feel to another person, that feeling does not change the fact that at the end of the day, when we close our eyes, we are still left entirely alone with our own thoughts. Therefore, it doesn’t matter whether we navigate through the maze of communication or not. The sooner we realize that our lives are dominated by permanent solitude, the easier it will be to accept the emptiness that arises during another argument with your wife, or when faced with the ignorance of a child. Bob understood that the pain of loneliness was something he had inflicted on himself. But he will forever be grateful to Charlotte for helping him forget about it, if only for a moment.

We don’t live solely for others. First and foremost, we live for ourselves – boom, that’s the timeless truth. The paradox of all relationships is that only by accepting solitude can we be ready for a connection.

Be close to yourself, and you’ll be closer to others.