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November 9, 2025

50 Amazing Behind the Scenes Photos From the Making of “Lost in Translation” (2003)

Lost in Translation is a 2003 romantic comedy-drama film written and directed by Sofia Coppola. Bill Murray stars as Bob Harris, a fading American movie star who is having a midlife crisis when he travels to Tokyo to promote Suntory whisky. He befriends another disillusioned American, Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson), a recent college graduate and married for two years. The film explores themes of alienation and disconnection against a backdrop of cultural displacement in Japan. It does not use mainstream narrative conventions and is atypical in its depiction of romance.

Principal photography began on September 29, 2002, and lasted 27 days. With a tight schedule and a limited $4 million budget, filming was done six days per week, without permits, marked by a “run-and-gun” approach: Coppola was keen to stay mobile with a small crew and minimal equipment. She conducted few rehearsals and kept a flexible schedule, sometimes scrapping filming plans to shoot something she noticed on location if she thought it better served the story. Since the screenplay was sparse, missing details were often addressed during shooting, and Coppola allowed a significant amount of improvisation in dialogue, especially from Murray.

While key crew members were Americans that Coppola invited to Tokyo, most of the crew was hired locally. This proved to be challenging for the production, as most of the Japanese crew could not communicate with Coppola in English, so both sides relied on translations by a bilingual assistant director and a gaffer. The production encountered frequent delays while translations took place and suffered from occasional cultural misunderstandings. Despite this, Coppola said she worked to adapt to a Japanese style of filmmaking, not wanting to impose an approach that her crew was not used to.

Coppola worked closely to visualize the film with her director of photography, Lance Acord. She showed him and other key crew members a book of photographs she created that represented the visual style she wanted to convey in the film. To evoke a sense of isolation in Bob, Coppola and Acord used stationary shots in the hotel and avoided conspicuous camera movements. They also had numerous discussions about shooting on video, but they ultimately decided that film better suited the romantic undertones of the story. Coppola remarked, “Film gives a little bit of a distance, which feels more like a memory to me. Video is more present tense.” Acord believed that new film stocks would reduce the need for excessive lighting, ultimately using Kodak Vision 500T 5263 35 mm stock for night exteriors and Kodak Vision 320T 5277 stock in daylight. Most of the film was shot with an Aaton 35-III camera. For some confined locations where the Aaton would have been too noisy, a Moviecam Compact was used.

Many of the shooting locations were local places of business and public areas at the time of filming, including rooms, bar and swimming pool in the Park Hyatt Tokyo and Shibuya Crossing in Tokyo. Filming also took place at Jōgan-ji (Nakano, Tokyo). The opening scene was done at Yasukuni-dōri in Kabuki-chō. Charlotte’s ride at the subway was taken at Omote-sando Station at the Hanzōmon and Ginza lines platform. The chase scene after the bar and through the Pachinko parlor “Botan” were around Naka-Meguro Station. Brief scenes were also filmed in Kyoto at the Heian Shrine, and Nanzen-ji. The hospital scene was at the Tokyo Medical University. The last scene was done at Chūō-dōri in Nishi-Shinjuku close to Shinjuku train station.

On public streets and subways, the production did not secure filming permits and relied on city bystanders as extras. Coppola described the shooting as “documentary-style” and was worried at times about getting stopped by police, so she kept a minimal crew. In the hotel, the production was not allowed to shoot in public areas until 1 or 2 a.m. to avoid disturbing guests. In the film’s concluding sequence in which Bob and Charlotte make their final goodbyes, Coppola reported being unhappy with the dialogue she had scripted, so Murray improvised the whisper in Johansson’s ear. Too quiet to be understandable, Coppola considered dubbing audio in the scene, but she ultimately decided it was better that it “stays between the two of them.” After production concluded, Coppola supervised 10 weeks of editing by Sarah Flack in New York City.

Lost in Translation premiered on August 29, 2003, at the Telluride Film Festival, and was distributed to American theatres on September 12, 2003. It grossed $118 million worldwide and received acclaim for its writing, directing and performances, though its depiction of Japan and Japanese people was criticized. At the 76th Academy Awards, Lost in Translation won Coppola Best Original Screenplay, and the film was nominated for Best Picture, Best Director and Best Actor (Murray). Other accolades won include three BAFTAs and three Golden Globes. It has since been named one of the greatest films of the 2000s and 21st century.






Rare Childhood Photos of Hedy Lamarr From the 1910s and 1920s

Hedy Lamarr (born Hedwig Eva Maria Kiesler; November 9, 1914 – January 19, 2000) spent her childhood and adolescence in Vienna, Austria, during the 1910s and 1920s. Her father, Emil Kiesler, was a successful bank director known for his intellect and curiosity about how things worked. Her mother, Gertrud “Trude” Kiesler, was a pianist from an upper-middle-class Jewish family in Budapest. Lamarr was their only child and grew up in a cultured, comfortable home filled with books, art, and music. Her mother encouraged her artistic side, while her father nurtured her scientific curiosity.

From a young age, Lamarr showed extraordinary intelligence and imagination. Her father often took her on long walks, explaining how machines worked, how a printing press functioned, or how car engines operated. These talks would later inspire her inventive mind. She was also fascinated by theater and film, performing small plays at home and showing a strong sense of drama and emotion.

Lamarr received a well-rounded education, studying piano, ballet, and languages, alongside rigorous academic subjects typical of Viennese upper-class schooling. As a teenager in the late 1920s, she attended Max Reinhardt’s acting school in Berlin, one of Europe’s most prestigious institutions for drama, signaling her transition from a bright, inquisitive child to an ambitious young performer.

Growing up in post–World War I Vienna, Hedy witnessed a city both wounded by war and alive with creativity. The arts flourished, and cinema, music, and modernist thought influenced her deeply. By the late 1920s, her beauty and poise caught the attention of European filmmakers, setting her on the path to stardom.






Dustman Dennis Angel of Notting Hill Wearing a Top Hat to Collect the Rubbish in the Royal Borough of Kensington, 1964

In 1964, Dennis Angel, a dustman from Notting Hill, added an unexpected flourish to his daily rounds in the Royal Borough of Kensington by wearing a top hat on the job. Captured in an iconic photograph by J. Wilds, Angel stood beside his cart in work overalls, crowned with the elegance of formal headwear. The contrast between a refuse collector and a symbol of upper-class refinement drew attention and smiles. It wasn’t a uniform requirement—it was Angel’s personal touch, a subtle blend of humor, pride, and self-expression that transformed an ordinary routine into something memorable.


Notting Hill in the 1960s was a neighborhood in flux, rooted in working-class tradition while evolving into a vibrant mix of cultures and creativity. Angel’s simple act became more than a visual oddity; it made him a local character. Children waved, passersby grinned, and he emerged as a kind of folk hero—an everyday Londoner injecting a hint of theatre into the streets. His top hat lent dignity to a job often overlooked, elevating not only his presence but also the public’s perception of those who quietly kept the city functioning.

The photograph of Dennis Angel endures as more than a quirky snapshot; it conveys a deeper story about individuality, class, and subtle rebellion against societal expectations. In an era of rigid social roles, Angel’s sartorial choice gently subverted norms, showing that self-expression can coexist with everyday work. His image remains a symbol of how quiet confidence, humor, and a touch of elegance can bring grace and charm to even the most routine of occupations.

Erik Braagaard: Milliner to the Elite

Erik Braagaard (1912–2004) was a prominent Danish milliner and hat designer known for dressing some of the world’s most affluent women. He began his career in Paris before eventually emigrating and establishing a successful hat salon in New York City around 1940.

Braagaard became highly regarded in the fashionable district around Fifth Avenue, opening salons on West 57th Street and later East 53rd Street. His unique, high-fashion creations were often featured in the society and style pages of the time. The Metropolitan Museum of Art holds several of his hats, highlighting his place in fashion history. His clientele included numerous members of high society and royal families, showcasing his transition from a Danish designer to a sought-after name in the exclusive world of American couture.

Braagaard continued his work, sometimes collaborating with designers like Adolfo Sardinia, until his death in New York in 2004. These vintage photos capture portraits of classic beauties wearing hats designed by Erik Braagaard.

Model wearing a charming bonnet of pink felt swathed in pink chiffon by Erik, photo by Frances McLaughlin, Vogue, March 1948

Barbara Mullen in shapely jacket, fitted and belted and curved for wide skirts in Russian broadtail by Ritter, a winging side-set white felt cloche by Erik, photo by Richard Rutledge, Vogue, March 1948

Betty Bridgers wearing a hat of pink, blonde and green tulle by Braagaard, jewelry by Tiffany, photo by Louise Dahl-Wolfe, Harper's Bazaar, June 1948

Pat O'Reilly in charming gray-and-white spotted sundress with matching bolero by Frederic Starke, broderie Anglaise cloche by Erik, photo by Jay at the Villa Borghese, Harper's Bazaar UK, May 1949

Pat O'Reilly in classic plaid cotton shirtwaister by Dorville and piqué boater by Erik, photo by Jay at St. Peter in Rome, Harper's Bazaar UK, May 1949

Koloman Moser: The Versatile Pioneer of Viennese Modernism

Koloman Moser (1868–1918) was an immensely versatile Austrian artist whose work was central to the emergence of Viennese Modernism. As a painter, graphic designer, and designer of decorative arts, he was a founding member of both the Vienna Secession (1897) and, more importantly, the Wiener Werkstätte (Vienna Workshops, 1903).

Moser’s style is characterized by its geometric rigor, clarity, and a striking use of simplified forms and repeated patterns, often predating the Art Deco movement. For the Wiener Werkstätte, he was instrumental in setting the aesthetic tone, designing everything from furniture and textiles to jewelry and glassware, aiming to integrate art into every aspect of daily life, or the Gesamtkunstwerk (total work of art).

His highly influential designs, which emphasized the harmony between form and function, cemented his reputation as one of the most significant figures in the transition from Art Nouveau to modern design.

Ein Moderner Tantalus, 1897

Plakatentwurf, 1897

‘Der Kunstschatz’, “Ver Sacrum”, 1898

De Kunst fur alle, 1898

Abimelech, 1899

November 8, 2025

Tim Samaras, the Man Who Caught the Storm

Timothy Michael Samaras was born on November 12, 1957, in Lakewood, Colorado. From a young age, he was captivated by how things worked — especially the power of storms. Unlike many storm chasers who started with thrill-seeking, Samaras was first and foremost an engineer and scientist. He had no formal meteorological degree, but his technical expertise and curiosity led him to make groundbreaking contributions to tornado research.

Samaras worked for twenty years with the television network National Geographic and as part of TWISTEX (Tactical Weather Instrumented Sampling in Tornadoes Experiment), a project he founded in the late 1990s. His goal was to measure data from inside a tornado — something extremely difficult and dangerous to achieve.

He built custom instruments called “turtle probes” — heavy, low-profile devices designed to survive direct hits by tornadoes. In 2003, one of these probes captured a record-breaking 100-millibar pressure drop inside a tornado near Manchester, South Dakota — one of the lowest ever recorded at ground level.

Samaras’ work provided invaluable insights into tornado dynamics, helping improve understanding of wind speeds, pressure, and structural effects — knowledge that would one day aid in better forecasting and public safety.

His calm, methodical style stood out in the storm chasing community. Samaras was featured on Discovery Channel’s Storm Chasers series from 2007 to 2012, where viewers saw his scientific approach in contrast to more adrenaline-fueled chasers. He also appeared in National Geographic documentaries, and his footage of lightning and storm structure was widely praised for its beauty and precision.

Tragically, on May 31, 2013, during a massive tornado outbreak in El Reno, Oklahoma, Samaras, his son Paul Samaras (24), and fellow chaser Carl Young (45) were killed. The El Reno tornado was one of the widest ever recorded — at times measuring 2.6 miles across — and moved unpredictably with sudden shifts in direction and speed.

Their vehicle was caught when the tornado suddenly expanded and changed course, leaving them with no escape route. Data later showed winds over 295 mph (475 km/h) in parts of the storm — equivalent to a top-tier EF5 tornado. Tim’s last known act was reportedly trying to protect his son and partner as the tornado bore down.

Tim Samaras is remembered as a pioneer of scientific storm chasing — meticulous, humble, and deeply respectful of nature’s power. His instruments and findings continue to inform modern meteorology and storm-safety practices.

After his death, the National Geographic Society created the Tim Samaras Legacy Fund to support science education and atmospheric research. Many in the storm-chasing community still regard him as a role model for responsible and research-focused chasing.






The Queen of Slide Guitar: 30 Photos of Bonnie Raitt in the 1980s

Bonnie Raitt (born November 8, 1949) is an American singer, guitarist, and songwriter. In 1971, Raitt released her self-titled debut album. Following this, she released a series of critically acclaimed roots-influenced albums that incorporated elements of rock, blues, country, and folk. She was also a frequent session player and collaborator with other artists, including Warren Zevon, Little Feat, Jackson Browne, the Pointer Sisters, John Prine, and Leon Russell.

At the start of the 1980s, Raitt was already respected for her bluesy voice, slide guitar mastery, and soulful songwriting. However, her albums in the early 1980s, Green Light (1982) and Nine Lives (1986), didn’t achieve the commercial success her label, Warner Bros., hoped for. As a result, she was dropped by the label in 1983, despite critical acclaim and a loyal fan base.

During this period, she also struggled with alcohol and substance use, which took a toll on her career momentum and health. Yet even in tough times, she remained active in political and environmental causes, such as anti-nuclear activism and supporting women in music.

By 1987–88, Raitt made major life changes. She got sober, refocused her priorities, and began rebuilding her career. Her authenticity and perseverance earned deep respect among fellow musicians. She signed with Capitol Records and began work on what would become her comeback album. She also gained renewed energy and confidence from touring and collaborating with artists like John Hiatt, Don Was, and Bruce Hornsby.

Although her massive commercial breakthrough came with Nick of Time (1989), which swept the 1990 Grammy Awards, the seeds were sown throughout the 1980s. That album’s success was both a personal redemption story and a career renaissance, marking the end of a difficult decade and the beginning of her legacy as one of America’s most beloved roots and blues artists.

“I never thought of it in terms of men or women, I taught myself to play guitar because I was in love with Joan Baez’s voice, and she was also a Quaker,” Raitt said. “I taught myself country-blues off of records that didn’t even include women, but I didn’t think about it at the time. Dave Van Ronk, John Hammond, Jr., and (the trio) Koerner, Ray & Glover were the first people I heard who made me realize it was OK to be white and play blues, and that you weren’t (trespassing) on hallowed ground.”

“Barbara Dane and Judy Roderick were two blues women in the 1960s who knocked me out. I knew about Sister Rosetta Tharpe, but a little later. Pops Staples was one of the guitar guys for me. And two of my heroes were Memphis Minnie and Sippie Wallace. I was inspired by the whole story about Minnie being a street busker and sometimes disguising herself as a man.

“I knew Aretha (Franklin) played piano, and thought it was great, because I loved the way she accompanied herself. And Ray Charles was as important to me as anybody. I learned off of records, as many of us kids did. I took piano lessons, but not guitar lessons. So I was trying to emulate how Fred McDowell, Son House and Robert Johnson played. There wasn’t any YouTube then, so I had to do it by ear.”









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