Synecdoche, New York
Rated: R
There is simply no screenwriter as brave as Charlie Kaufman working in mainstream American cinema right now. At some point, Kaufman learned all the rules and then decided he had no use for them. If Being John Malkovich is your most conventional film to date, then you, sir, are an expert at blowing minds. And yet there's never a hint of pretension in Kaufman's films (well, maybe Human Nature, but we'll just ignore that flick and should continue to do so regardless of me making my point) because they're not pretending at anything. Kaufman knows exactly the points he wants to make and while the road to that point may be twisty and weird and even a bit of a mindfuck, there are clearly themes and character arcs at work. It's almost like a magic-eye where if you step back and blur your eyes, you'll see a 3-D picture of love intertwined with loneliness. Synecdoche, New York is his biggest challenge to date. It's a film I can't even begin to rate because a week after seeing it, I'm still not exactly sure what I saw. I can describe the "What" of the narrative: Caden Cotard (Philip Seymour Hoffman) is a theatre director suffering from inexplicable ailments. As his marriage and health deteriorate, Caden's mortality and legacy become his primary concern. With the help of a MacArthur genius grant, Caden decides to build an entire theatre to examine his life and the suffering therein. Of course, as Caden begins to replicate his life, the production then needs to create a new production and so forth. Basically, it looks like Caden navel-gazed so hard that he fell into his own belly. I know there are things about the film I like. I like the performances, especially Samantha Morton as Hazel, Caden's constant love interest and a woman whose house is constantly on fire (one of the film's many symbols which I cannot decipher). I like Jon Brion's score, particularly the song "Little Person", which is just so sad and beautiful that I almost tear-up every time I hear it. And despite the distance the film's bizarre and surreal atmosphere creates, it manages to still bridge emotional gaps, especially when exploring Caden's estranged relationship with his daughter. Synecdoche can also be a very funny film, especially during the first act as it strolls into the absurd. I know there are things I don't like about this film. I don't like that it reaches a point where I'm spending so much time struggling to understand what's happening and the significance of turns in the narrative that I can't simply soak the film in and participate on an emotional level. Furthermore, I don't think Kaufman was up to the task of directing such a complex story and that he needed a visually imaginative director to step in and provide imagery that would compliment the story and provide a kind of aesthetic anchor to keep the viewer attached to the characters and the situation. And ultimately it's attachment that makes Synecdoche such a tough film. In one scene, characters act as human beings and in another, their actions are more symbolic or subversive or surreal. The universe keeps shifting and when trying to tell the story of a man attempting to recreate, control, and examine his own universe, I'm guessing that's the intent. One viewing will help you get this strange world under your feet. But the question is: do you really want to return for a second viewing where you're going to see two hours of Philip Seymour Hoffman's sadness and suffering? Do you find the intellectual and emotional gifts rewarding enough to study this film? However, if you're looking for a nice Saturday night out at the movies, you'll probably want to avoid this flick. With a film that goes so far outside the bounds of conventional cinema, I hope my ambivalence and confusion is understandable. But if you really need a rating, I've provided one below: Words by |