Why does this time of year always throw up a movie that makes me depressed? Last February About Schmidt got me in an incredibly maudlin state. Now it's the turn of Lost In Translation to leave me feeling sad, cold and alone.

Here be spoilers... Lost In Translation plot points revealed

It's a great film, looks absolutely beautiful, and Sofia Coppola's script and direction allow Bill Murray (Bob) and Scarlett Johansson (Charlotte) lots of room to breathe.

But the central story and its characters are themselves so heartbreakingly lost and lonely - him in a long-term marriage, her just two years in, both in a foreign country - that the sense of isolation can't help but rub off. Because of how quickly and innocently it develops from novelty friendship to unconsummated infatuation, the strength of their bond is overwhelming. When Bob actually sleeps with the lounge singer (rather than Charlotte, whom he only ever kisses, and even then only right at the end), it's Charlotte one feels he's betrayed, rather than his wife. Despite the fact that they bring something to each other's life for a short while, they know that they can't really be together.

And it's that pain derived from not having, rather than the joy brought about by their brief connection, that really stayed with me. I suppose I should be used to it, and learn concentrate on the positive rather than the negative, but the downside to this story is so hard to ignore, especially when it's an emotion with which I'm so well acquainted.

Thank goodness for small mercies, otherwise I might be really down.