In Retrospect: The Virgin Suicides, 2000.

I have an interesting viewer-director relationship with Sofia Coppola. I mean, I respect her as an artist, I truly do, but her movies tend to leave me with the same effect every time: I watch it, like it, get over it, then a few years later I get re-intrigued by it, then watch it, and absolutely love it.

That's how it was for Lost In Translation, I tried to sit through Marie Antoinette, but I'm sure I'll watch it again, and finally, with The Virgin Suicides.

I watched it for the first time in nearly four years last night and I was re-acquainted with Coppola's style that is oh-so simplistic yet oh-so profound. I mean, really, who couldn't help but cry "DADDY'S GIRL!" whenever you see her shit? But even with her short, Lick The Star, I enjoyed, and, again, had to watch twice to appreciate. That's true artistship right there. And for that, Sofia, I respect you for it.

The soundtrack of The Virgin Suicides is flawless. The film itself is impeccable, especially the above scene. Sofia Coppola is the only director to make Kirsten Dunst watchable and Giovanni Ribisi listenable.