Remember Sofia Coppola in Godfather III? She played Michael Corleone's daughter. She was goddawful. Her pop took a chance in giving her such a big role, and she was almost universally panned for her performance. This time she is sure to have made him proud. As writer/director of The Virgin Suicides, the Zoetrope Studios release based on the best-selling novel by Jeffrey Eugenides, the Coppola heiress has shown that filmmaking is in her genes.

Meet the Lisbons. The five sisters (four naturally blonde), lip gloss glimmering in the idyllic 70s sunshine, have captured the hearts, minds, and groins of a group of high school boys who narrate the tale of the girls sad and mysterious demise. Suicides, all. Our story starts with the youngest, Cecilia, hospitalized after her first failed attempt. “What are you doing here, honey?" Her doctor waxes, "You're not even old enough to know how bad life gets.” Replies Cecilia, “you've never been a 13-year-old girl."

And so we enter into the suburban raised-ranch world of the Lisbons, whose father (Woods) is an absent-minded high school math teacher; mother (Turner) a strict, crucifix wearing, household drill sergeant of sorts. Despite her tight watch over her daughters, she follows the advice of Cecilia's shrink (cameo by Danny Devito) and allows the girls their first basement party--punch and all. But the sock to the gut that the boys receive during the festivities is just the first blow in a tragedy that leaves them doubled over for years to come.

With Cecilia gone, the sisters are elevated higher on their pedestal and become even more out of reach. We view them through the eyes of the neighborhood boys, as physical perfection, but we don't ever really find out what moves each of them. They exist as a whole, as evidenced by their first and last date ever. The oldest one--Lux (Dunst)--had been avoiding the advances of senior heartthrob Trip Fontaine (Heartnett) but then falls for him completely and he convinces her folks to let him and a group of his friends take the girls to the homecoming dance. When Lux misses curfew, the girls become prisoners at home, doomed to a "flowers in the attic" type of existence. While the starry-eyed boys are forced to glimpse them only through a telescope, the girls send secret notes and reciprocate some pretty poignant phone calls (my favorite scene in the whole film--I won't give it away). It's these magical moments that compel the boys to carry the mystery of the virgin suicides well into adulthood.

For those of us who grew up just a little too late to really wear bell-bottoms, to sew our own patches on our jean jackets, to listen to Ten CC in a black-lit room full of fuzzy posters, The Virgin Suicides is a precious look beyond that eternally closed "big kid" door. Coppola captures the rich innocence of this world in a million small details, from the prime 70s soundtrack--complete with Hart, Todd Rundgren and The Hollies--down to the girly-girl wall collages, fat handwriting, and glitter-infused stickers. And we are skillfully presented this world directly through the eyes of the teens, which shifts between dreamy and washed out, as they experience elation and heartache that will never be as intense as it is during the awkward years of adolescence.

Coppola coaxed topnotch performances out of her teen stars as well as veterans Turner and Woods. She should also be commended for the score, a trippy yet subdued effort from the French pop band Air. And because I was hungering for more character development with regards to the girls, seeing The Virgin Suicides made me want get my hands on Eugenides novel (hopefully I can find a copy without a movie still plastered on the front).

One more thing, The Virgin Suicides website is pretty cool too. You can watch a trailer, Hear some of the soundtrack and score, and you can even email questions to some of the actors and Sofia herself! Kudos, Sofia, for making yourself accessible to your audience. This time the young Coppola didn't disappoint.

SoundTRACKER

Okay. Just so you know, there are two albums posing as soundtracks to Jeffrey Eugenides' novel about the repressed, beautiful Lisbon sisters and the neighborhood boys who were mesmerized by them. There's one, The Virgin Suicides: The Score and two, The Virgin Suicides: The Music From the Motion Picture. Now that we've gotten that outta the way, let's dig in.

The Score is all Air--a French ambient duo otherwise known as Nicolas Godin and Jean Benoit Dunkel. True to form, they call forth their brand of pensive, space-pop, mood music with help from vocalist Gordon Traxx ("Playground Love") and former Redd Kross drummer Brian Reitzell.

Before I even saw the film, listening to The Score brought to mind dark wood paneled living rooms (a la the kind used in those Calvin Klein television advertisements that were pulled from the air in the mid-90's), shag (and we're talking Jonathan Livingston Seagull deep) carpeting and wide collared shirts. Compared to previous Air material, these songs are lankier and darker (think Dark Side of the Moon Safari). But then it's not like the film's a walk in the park either.

As a score, it's more rewarding than a frozen Kit Kat on a summer day. The only vocals occur in the album's first and last songs ("Playground Love" and "Suicide Underground"). Like the hidden track on the X Files Original Soundtrack, "Suicide Underground" offers a comprehensive peek into the world of The Virgin Suicides. Within the track, we hear Cecilia lying on a hospital bed, the gashes in her wrists still fresh, saying to the very much older doctor, "Obviously, doctor, you've never been a 13-year-old girl." Gives me chills still.

Sure, The Music From the Motion Picture adds to the film's ambiance. Fine, fine. Pure Seventies: flashbacks, wood-paneled station wagons and (whew) those pants. It does its job. But do you really want to remember the Seventies?

Wait, don't answer that question.

Air (with two selections that also appear on the Score) and Sloan (a power-pop band from Canada) are the only two things that save this release from becoming an AM radio sampler from the decade that featured a president named Gerald.

This isn't to say the soundtrack isn't without its moments. There are some gimme's. When Trip Fontaine (played by Josh Hartnett, John in Halloween H2O) first struts down the hazily lit high school hallway and every freakin' girl swoons in his path, Heart's "Magic Man" plays. The aggression of the Wilson sisters' guitars spell out S-E-X-Y in a David Cassidy kind of way. And when the neighborhood boys play the Lisbon sisters some of their favorite songs over the phone, Todd Rundgren's "Hello It's Me" finds its way to a record player. Come on, though I may be trying to forget the Seventies, that was so good it was obvious.

Other than that, Al Green delivers a slice o' soul with "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?, as well as 10cc's "I'm Not in Love" (a bit of trivia for you: 10cc is the metric total of semen ejaculated by the average male) and the Hollies' "The Air That I Breathe" (covered by Semisonic on the 1999 Singing in my Sleep EP). As an added bonus Styx's "Come Sail Away" is the last track. The last time I heard this song was in South Park, and it's almost nice to hear the original recording. Almost.

In the end, The Score is a must-have for any Air fan or lovers of soundtracks in general. It's bee-yoo-tee-ful. And you can get The Music From the Motion Picture if you really feel like you have to. But do you really need another black light listening CD? Don't let Mrs. Lisbon find it or it'll make its way right into the fire. --Skipper Warson