A Pitch For Sofia Coppola and Scarlett Johansson
Neither of you have cashed in on remake-fever. You are missing the opportunity. I present to you: "Lost In Translation 2".
Award-winning directors and actresses alike need business advice from esteemed corporate drones, like me. I wish it weren’t the case, but it is. Both of these ladies have failed to fully and completely cash in on remake/sequel/prequel/branding fever, and they have such a golden opportunity.
Lost in Translation 2.
One might think a sequel is unnecessary and, in fact, destroys the very arc of the movie, the ambiguity, the aftertaste. It is not that you are wrong. You are worse than wrong. You are not asking the right question. The right question is: will this shit sell? The answer is: Yes. With the right script. With the right direction. With the right actress reprising her role.
The people cry out for it.
Look, I’ve even sketched the plot for you. Picture this, Sofia.
I walk into your office, a bundle of nerves, my harried look a dead giveaway that I’m here to pitch you. You’ve heard it before.
“I have a pitch for a movie,” I say. You roll your eyes.
“It's Scarlett Johansen playing the older version of her character from Lost in Translation. She didn't know what to do after Japan, so she went to law school. She went to Yale after all, majored in philosophy, thought she could be a writer. Where else does this type end up? It's only natural. She has to do something, and there's law school. Something.”
You lean forward in your chair, intrigued. Finally, someone else saw what you saw…
“She's working a case, a morally questionable one. I don’t know. She’s defending clubbing baby seals in the Arctic. But it doesn't start there. It starts with her defending something more innocent, but still guilty. And then it's just a little more each day. She meets a guy in private equity working on an acquisition. It’s New York, okay? She’s divorced that photography guy because he didn’t support her going to law school. ‘I just want to make something of myself,’ she said. ‘So does everyone. But a lawyer?’ He didn’t understand. They drifted apart. Everyone's mad at the new (much hotter) private equity guy because he and his firm laid off three entire Midwestern towns stocked with the most sympathetic people. Scarlett and hot finance guy bond over being hated and fall in love, and then the rest of it is a rom-com where they tell jokes about clubbing baby seals and firing people while dodging protestors and having red paint thrown at them. It's really not their fault. Why shouldn't they be in love? It turns out because they are conflicted on an upcoming acquisition. They are on opposite sides. She’s representing another bidder for this distressed Midwestern amusement park company, and they lose touch because they can't communicate until the trial. And then she remembers that she wants to be a writer, so she writes a romance novel about it, working title Conflicted, and she tries to get it published, but no one wants it because it doesn’t ‘speak to the market’.”
“Dear God,” you say, evidently impressed. “Please leave.”
You need a moment to collect your thoughts to respond to my artistic brilliance. I understand, but I offer one more nugget to convince you.
“The movie ends with a flashback to the first installment of the Lost In Translation universe. The part where Bill Murray whispers in her ear. You can hear the audio clearly, and Bill Murray says, ‘Look, I’ve done art. I’ve been an actor. Now look at me. I’m reading whisky ads in Japan. Just take the LSAT, kid. Just take the LSAT.’ And they kiss.”
“Security,” you say.
Thank you for reading, Ms. Coppola and Ms. Johansson, and for your consideration,
Zach
(I am currently on Day 1 of 2 of unemployment. I should not be left with nothing to do.)