Tools of Characterization
Characterization in Lost in Translation
Actions
In a way, this is an anti-action movie. Bob and Charlotte are characterized as much by what they don't do as they are by what they do do.
They're both feeling lost and isolated. As a result, they've kind of crawled back into their shells like a couple of antisocial hermit crabs. Bob's taking an easy paycheck from Suntory. If Charlotte's not wandering aimlessly around her hotel room while her husband works, she's wandering just as aimlessly around Tokyo and its outskirts.
Both Bob and Charlotte are hungry for a change, but neither’s motivated to actually take matters into their own hands and do something about it.
Occupation
If you're not yet an adult, you still have time to prepare for the most frequently asked question of all time, the entry point to every slice of small talk: "So, uh, what do you do?"
We tend to categorize and contextualize others by their occupation (or lack thereof), and Bob and Charlotte are no exceptions. Bob's job as a movie star affords him certain privileges, even if his star is fading. He gets paid a crazy-big amount of money to wear mascara and pretend to drink whisky. He's gets flown to Tokyo for two weeks on Suntory's dime.
But there's a downside to celebrity, too, like the loss of anonymity, feelings of isolation, and raging insecurity, and conversations like this held within earshot of Bob by two business bros at the hotel bar:
MAN #1: You see that guy?
MAN #2: Yeah.
MAN #1: You know who that is.
MAN #2: That's not him. It looks like him, but it's not him.
MAN #1: Can you believe it?
MAN #2: Okay, maybe it is.
Dude. He's right. There. As a celebrity, Bob feels like an animal at the zoo because he's frequently treated like one. Bob can hear everything these guys are saying given that he's, like, three feet away, but they act like he's a ring-tailed lemur in a cage at Ueno Zoo.
On the flipside, Charlotte's characterized by her lack of an occupation. She's a recent Yale grad, and she has zero idea what to do next. “Recent college grad” just screams “lost.” What about that philosophy major? It could suggest a number of things, like that she’s a reflective, intelligent person whose mind is on higher things. Or that she’s essentially unemployable at this point.
CHARLOTTE: I just don't know what I'm supposed to be, you know? I tried being a writer, but I hate what I write. I tried taking pictures. They're so mediocre, you know? Every girl goes through a photography phase. You know, like horses? You know, taking dumb pictures of your feet.
Charlotte comes across as indecisive and immature here; she’s only just out of college, after all. She seems to be waiting for her dream job to magically land in her lap. Bob's old enough and experienced enough to know that things don't work that way.
Sorry, Shmoopers.
Sex and Love
Marriage plays a big part in how Bob and Charlotte are characterized, and they're at two totally different points on the nuptial timeline.
Bob's been married for 25 years. In this movie, that translates to meaning boredom and emotional distance. Charlotte and John have two years under their belt, and it’s not translating into newlywed bliss. The fact that she got married so young, and she already feels like she doesn't know who she married, tells us a lot about Charlotte's headspace.
LAUREN: How's Tokyo?
CHARLOTTE: It's great here. It's really great, um… I don’t know; I went to this shrine today, and, um, there were these monks, and they were chanting, and I didn't feel anything, you know? And, um, I don’t know… I even tried Ikebana, and John is using these hair products—I just, I don't know who I married.
It says a lot about Charlotte’s youth and inexperience with relationships that she looks at John’s personal care routine with existential alarm rather than a shrug or eye roll, as Lydia would probably do.
Lydia's got her own stuff to deal with anyway. Her frequent phone calls with Bob are used to paint a picture of how stagnant their marriage is and how checked out Bob is. The overwhelming majority of their conversations are dedicated to day-today things that long-married couples deal with—kids, home remodeling.
There's no "I love you," no "I can't wait to see you." It’s (almost) all business, all the time:
LYDIA: Look, your burgundy carpet isn’t in stock. It's gonna take 12 weeks. Did you like any of the other colors?
BOB: Whatever you like. I'm completely lost.
LYDIA: It's just carpet.
BOB: That's not what I'm talking about.
LYDIA: What are you talking about?
Bob and Lydia are up to their ears in carpet samples and child rearing, and it's sapped all the intimacy out of their marriage.
That gives us context for Bob's intense bond with Charlotte, with whom he never has to discuss shelving or dance recitals, as well as for why he sleeps with the lead singer of Sausalito. He and Lydia don't seem to get one another anymore, and neither seems motivated to try, either. At least not until the final minutes of the movie, that is. Bob's going back to America a changed man.
Hopefully, Lydia's still in his plans going forward. Guess we'll just have to wait for Lost in Translation 2: Tokyo Drift to find out.