Sofia Coppola Archive is not meant to collect cobwebs on library shelves nor sit pretty on a coffee table, with the off chance that the dark liquid stains its baby pink color. 

Review

By Amanda Contessa / Matthew staff | Edited by Sara Segat

4.5/5 

The black words lay on the foreground of a pale pink glossy page. 

For Romy and Cosima.  

Sofia Coppola dedicates her new archival art book, Sofia Coppola Archive, to her two daughters. Unbeknownst to her, the release of this book would carry a resonance far beyond her immediate circle, touching daughters, mothers, women and girls around the world who find solace and comfort in Coppola’s unique reflections of female identities and dreams. 

The hefty 488-page opus – distributed by Mack Books in 2023, in all its baby pink glory, serves as a testament to Sofia’s directing and writing prowess. It is more than a book – it is a time capsule, a treasure trove of Coppola’s artistic integrity that unveils her “reel magic.” 

During the mid to late 1990s, most independent female filmmakers and female filmmakers in general, were not making films about women. All their creative endeavors contained elements that tried to impress an audience with above-average testosterone levels. 

However, with Sofia Coppola’s 1999 debut, The Virgin Suicides, women finally found someone who truly understood them. A film about women, for women. Henceforth, Sofia Coppola’s 20-plus-year filmmaking career began, and a stellar picture book to capture it was born. 

Sofia is the director who makes precisely what she wants to see, a self-assurance that cannot be said for many filmmakers of her stature. 

The Sofia Coppola Archive is divided into 8 sections; 8 sections for all 8 of her carefully crafted and curated film experiences. From The Virgin Suicides, the Oscar-winning Lost in Translation, and most recently, Priscilla, Sofia is comfortable in her niche of female-led storytelling, as shown in each corpus of photograph collections. The images are whimsical, spellbinding, ephemeral; the list of adjectives could go on and on. 

There is a certain spontaneity I found as I glossed through each page; not frazzled or fractured, but rather a crystallization of pure joy and excitement from each cast and crew. I discover two ways of observing Archive, in particular: 

– Viewers get to re-experience the film from a more personal perspective; 

– Viewers get to understand the psyche of Coppola, her filmmaking genius, and what goes into film production. 

Certain pages unveil Coppola’s original scripts for each film, adorned by her frazzled and frenzied handwriting. Portraits of muses Kirsten Dunst (The Virgin Suicides, Marie Antoinette, The Beguiled), Elle Fanning (Somewhere), Cailee Spaeny (Priscilla).  

Clippings of behind-the-scenes candids, original film stills, and the intimate spaces where each of her characters come to life, often in carefully crafted bedrooms of teenage girlhood immortalized via a film camera (Coppola’s favorite is the Contax T3). This body of work is a photography lover’s haven: to inspect the quiet moments that seldom occur in the realm of filmmaking.  

However, this corpus of beautiful images of beautiful people in beautiful places needs more contextual evidence in words. The book contains short excerpts of each film in Sofia’s own words, but rather briefly.  

The lack of articulation in words is attributed to Coppola having everything she wants to say (and see) in each of her films. This logic works in her favor and her favor only. Since this archive is a book for the public, it’s best to add more context, especially for those wanting to dive into her work more thoroughly.  

I understand Coppola’s initial intent with the book: to publish the contents of the boxes and bins she kept in her home from each film. They were relics of bygone eras for her, and she wanted her admirers to experience them all over with a fresh perspective. 

Also, Sofia has directed music videos that were not included in the archive. This filmography includes City Girl (2003) by Kevin Fields – which was a song included in Lost in Translation, and I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself (2003) by The White Stripes. To omit these projects may take away only a small amount of her artistry, but it would have been interesting to unveil Sofia’s creative approaches to film would vary to music video production.  

This anthology of Sofia’s creative methodology nonetheless offers a glimpse into the depths of her artistic abilities, leaving readers and viewers alike anticipating what else is to come from her mind. 

The Sofia Coppola Archive is not meant to collect cobwebs on library shelves nor sit pretty on a coffee table, with the off chance of the dark liquid staining its baby pink color. It’s meant for someone who can appreciate photography and film, the moments that often go unnoticed, held in the hands of someone captivated by its existence. 

More importantly, it’s meant for the hands of young women: on teenage beds and messy makeup tables. It’s meant to be admired and touched and held by women who feel embraced by the warmth of Sofia’s acknowledgement of their emotions.  

It’s Sofia’s way of telling us, “I see you, I hear you, and I am grateful for your love.” 

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