SOFIA COPPOLA MAKES films about sad, wealthy white women the way Martin Scorsese makes movies about gangsters-not with anywhere near the consistency of the version of the filmmaker that exists in the public's imagination. The Lisbon sisters of her feature-film debut, The Virgin Suicides, were, pointedly, the daughters of a Grosse Pointe math teacher and his wife, regular suburban girls elevated to mythic in the memories of the boys who idolized them from afar. The teens in The Bling Ring live in a universe parallel to the celebrities whose existences they covet. The schoolteachers and students of The Beguiled cling to their class status only through an act of will, performing gentility like a ritual. Still, she's a Coppola who made her acting debut as an infant in her father's The Godfather and riled up Cannes by portraying Marie Antoinette as an overindulged adolescent. The temptation to reduce her work to rich-girl problems is always going to be irresistible to some, even if it's not fair.
It's more accurate to say that her films are about privilege without power. The positions and the luxuries her characters enjoy tend to come from their proximity to men able to bestow them-they're wives, or daughters, or objects and wellsprings of desire. She makes movies about women who are picked, who have been raised expecting to be treasured-their near-uniform whiteness is certainly entwined with all this and who have been affirmed in those beliefs, until they aren't. Coppola is our auteur of girlishness, and in her films, to be a girl is to be shielded by everything you don't know.
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber ? Sign In
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
Trapped in Time
A woman relives the same day in a stunning Danish novel.
Polyphonic City
A SOFT, SHIMMERING beauty permeates the images of Mumbai that open Payal Kapadia's All We Imagine As Light. For all the nighttime bustle on display-the heave of people, the constant activity and chaos-Kapadia shoots with a flair for the illusory.
Lear at the Fountain of Youth
Kenneth Branagh's production is nipped, tucked, and facile.
A Belfast Lad Goes Home
After playing some iconic Americans, Anthony Boyle is a beloved IRA commander in a riveting new series about the Troubles.
The Pluck of the Irish
Artists from the Indiana-size island continue to dominate popular culture. Online, they've gained a rep as the \"good Europeans.\"
Houston's on Houston
The Corner Store is like an upscale chain for downtown scene-chasers.
A Brownstone That's Pink Inside
Artist Vivian Reiss's Murray Hill house of whimsy.
These Jeans Made Me Gay
The Citizens of Humanity Horseshoe pants complete my queer style.
Manic, STONED, Throttle, No Brakes
Less than six months after her Gagosian sölu show, the artist JAMIAN JULIANO-VILLAND lost her gallery and all her money and was preparing for an exhibition with two the biggest living American artists.
WHO EVER THOUGHT THAT BRIGHT PINK MEAT THAT LASTS FOR WEEKS WAS A GOOD IDEA?
Deli Meat Is Rotten