For the longest, I had been wary of falling for the hype whenever I would come across the name of Sofia Coppola’s sophomore feature. It being Hollywood, and the plaudits emanating in unison from professional circles, my pupils dilated on cue for possible warning sings; my qualms about such works always revert to whether such films’ success is in part due to the fledgling artist’s standing in the industry’s inner tribe. If this entails missing a few gems along the way then so be it, but with Translation, something had to give, and it took no less an apt opportunity than the coronavirus quarantine to finally give in.

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