I've been listening to some John Edwards speeches lately--he's pretty damned good, ain't he? I think it's obvious that he's on to something. There are two Americas. One which said "Wow!" after watching Lost in Translation, and the other which said "Hunh?"

Critics mostly loved the movie, though the local scribes in my neck of the woods were more ambivalent. Their complaints generally boiled down to "it's just not fair that the daughter of a brilliant film director would be given the money to write and make a movie." Never mind that Sofia Coppola's first flick, an adaptation of The Virgin Suicides--a book that would seem almost impossible to translate into celluloid, was pretty good. Coppola created one hell of a feel in her debut, and if the plot was just a bit too obtuse, well, blame the book.

Coppola obviously learned from her earlier mistakes. Lost in Translation doesn't have a plot. The main characters don't have any stunning personal revelations. The movie is essentially a cinema verite take on what happens when two superficially mismatched people realize that they are both exceedingly rich people without a decent sense of self. In other words, an ennui-fest.

A terribly funny ennui-fest, to be sure. And not just in a dry, well-heeled sort of way. There are many moments that make even the most detached viewer cringe--and these bits elicited some of the loudest shrieks from the audience in Asheville, N.C., where I saw the movie.

Ah Asheville, a place overrun by well-heeled hippies and even more wannabes. These are folks who probably live a similar existential crisis just about every single day of their lives. I don't know if they saw themselves in the movie. I know I did.

Not the privilege. I mean, I've stayed in one luxury hotel my entire life (I think), and that was three days in one of the St. Francis's worst rooms. You know the St. Francis. That's the hotel used for the exterior shots on the old TV show "Hotel." It's a grand old San Francisco establishment, and Barbara and I spent half our honeymoon there. That was cool. But, understand, I'm not likely to be found sitting on my ass in an expensive hotel room wondering what I should do with my life.

On the other hand, I usually spend a few moments each day pondering that very question. Most often, the answer is something along the lines of "keep on truckin'." But still, I understand that the process requires some serious soul-searching, and oftentimes there really aren't any answers.

This, I believe, is at the heart of the debate about Lost. At the end of the movie, the characters are right back where they started. Oh, sure, they've spent a few days hanging out with each other in a strange May-December mostly-platonic relationship, but as the movie closes they're headed back to their regular lives with none of their personal issues resolved.

Well, hell, ain't that just like life?

I was at the video store a couple days ago. The clerk asked the guy in front of me if he'd seen Lost. The customer--a regular, I suppose--rambled on and on about how he couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. The clerk smiled a knowing smile and said that a lot of people felt that way. I thought about saying, "Everything you see in the movie is what was going on. There isn't any subtext. There isn't anything to read into it. It just was. Haven't any of you people seen 'Waiting for Godot?' "

That last part is my personal rant. Folks just don't clamor for existential crises these days. If you listen to talk radio, the entire world is black and white, and there's no need to ponder a damned thing. You do what you're supposed to do and everything will be alright. Of course, if you have half a brain the question "what am I supposed to do?" pops up, and then you're right back where you started.

Whatever. The joy in life is the journey, not the end of the road. I think Lost in Translation is a great movie because it beautifully captures the daily battle to be comfortable in our own skin that each of us fights. And it doesn't hurt that two of the greatest film actors going these days, Bill Murray and Scarlet Johansen, are on screen for almost the entire movie.

If you said "Hunh?" after watching Lost, I don't blame you. It doesn't mean you're stupid, and it doesn't mean you're shallow. But my America is the one that said "Wow." These countries are light-years apart. We must find a way to bridge this gap if we are to become a truly great nation once again.

Jon Worley has always wondered what's so funny 'bout peace, love and understanding.