Somewhere

I’m sorry, for me Sofia Coppola’s latest was strictly Nowheresville.  I guess she deserves points for being strict, but she took me nowhere I wanted to go.  As much as I have liked her previous films, this one left me cold, despite glowing endorsements from critics I usually trust and agree with.  The model most frequently cited is Antonioni, and that right there might be the problem.  I’ve never really grooved on him either.  Sure, sure, the emptiness of soul that goes with hollow success.  Who cares?  Stephen Dorff is okay as the hunky if disheveled Hollywood star, too out of it to appreciate the women who throw themselves at him, whose 11-year-old daughter shows up at his suite in the Chateau Marmont.  Elle Fanning is quite charming in the role, and there is some subdued but affectionate byplay between father and daughter.  You’ll know right away if this is your cup of tea.  The first shot is prolonged as most of them are, with a fixed camera that frames two arcs of a racing oval in the desert, where a Ferrari passes through the frame in one direction then passes deeper through the frame in the other, once, twice, thrice, as the seconds tick off.  Get in a staring frame of mind, or give this film a pass.  Nothing of great human interest will pass before your eyes, though it will all be designed within an inch of its life.  (2010, MC-67)