There's a part of us still stuck there. In those moments of panic and fear, of a self belief that cuts deep, its scars of shame not fading away. Stolevski's camera cuts intrusively close - the faces of the incredible Green and Anton are centred, and straining to escape. But the boxed in ratio keeps us enclosed in their interiority and languishing in their burgeoning push and pull.

It's appropriate that the distance of eleven years finds our characters in the waning days of their twenties. It's the age when for many of us our queer shame is shedded. The parts and particulars about ourselves that we've hidden and repressed are pulled apart and torn asunder. That fight or flight feeling of self-preservation replaced by a newly found queer abandon on a dancefloor of a forgotten friend's wedding.

But it pangs and bangs to get out. To stifle our enduring prosperity and remind us we come from a broken world that nurtures our broken queer hearts. There's a part of us still stuck there. Of an age we thought we'd left behind.

For the sake of science, I am going to take the most liked review of this movie, Google Translate it into Japanese, then Google Translate it back into English. Let's see what happens. Original review by Lisa Bettany: "Who doesn't love a movie that starts on Scarlett Johansson's bum?" Lisa Bettany's review Lost in Translation: "Who starts in the ass of Scarlett Johansson, you do not love movies?"

I love the silence, I love the metaphors, how this film talks a lot without saying much, it's slow paced, every scene is gorgeous, both Murray and Johansson are convincing as fuck and by the last scene my eyes are wet and my heart is in my hand. This may be Sophia Coppola's masterpiece.

Justine Triet's film has all the trappings of a whodunnit but it's mostly about how people change. And how we look for evidence on why they changed—even though it never adds up to a single moment like a crime of passion has the capacity to do. For Hüller, and her now deceased husband, it's the change that comes from love turning to resentment for feeling trapped by another person's choices.

For Graner it's the change of seeing his parents as deeply flawed humans who shielded him from so much pain they experienced together. It's not a dissection of a fatal fall from a window. It's everyone falling from grace very publicly and especially in the (already clouded from an accident) eyes of a child. It's not a stirring film but it resonates and ripples with truth. Including how it leaves the audience wondering past the ending if mother or son were fabricating things to control a narrative that is so much more expansive — from first love to fall — and cannot be solved without evidence. Much like the feelings of love itself. There is no evidence. Even actions can have unknown and selfish ulterior motives.

想十年前的上海了 我们也在法租界老洋房出租屋里喝酒抽烟 你的阳台也摆满了植物 我们聊新闻理想和得不到丢不掉的情爱幻想 排练房和livehouse也是生活的必备部分 它让我们陶醉于成为一个悲观的人 不过那时候这些根本还不是什么时髦的东西 我也记得十年前我在家第一次看frances ha 时掉过的眼泪 记得我有多向往在电影里纽约的黑白街道飞奔 今天一走出电影院便是最最繁华喧嚷的时代广场 幻想成了现实 回忆成了银幕上的悼念会 我的家不在那头了而在这里 人生总有那么几回错位感

do you ever watch a really great movie and think “i would eat this up in book form”? and coming from your resident misandrist, i love how this movie’s feminism doesn’t depend on man bashing, it’s just about women taking care of each other. so beautiful and touching and messy :)