Some of those who have already written about Sofia Coppola’s Somewhere have categorized it, in a kind of lazy shorthand, as a movie about the “emptiness of celebrity.” But Somewhere is really a Western — a Western without cactuses or rocks or horses, but one that, even so, takes place under a special kind of sunlight found only in L.A., in an environment that’s wild and ruthless under its veneer of civilization. The character of the land means everything in Somewhere : Wide boulevards lined with palm trees make for an illusory endless frontier; giant billboards advertise nothing in particular — they’re big because they can be. This is a place where you can lose your way without even taking a wrong turn, and sure enough, the hero of this particular story is a man who has temporarily lost himself. Still, the city’s beauty — either sitting in plain sight under the sizzling noon sun or semi-hidden in the dusk — is peculiar and specific and alluring. L.A. — and the idea of Hollywood, if not the actual neighborhood — is heartless and fabulous. It’s a place to really be a man — or not.
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REVIEW: Sofia Coppola Brings a Delicate Touch, and Sure-Handed Precision, to Somewhere
