Synecdoche, New York
Charlie Kaufman, 2008
#7, 2008 Skandies
More dream logic here, though this time I was
willing to stick it out for a bit because some of the surreal turns spoke to
me. Kaufman does something with time early on that is really kind of
brilliant — you could make a genuinely great movie just about that
trick.
And as the movie wore on and its thematic concerns became more clear, I began
to get the eerie sense that its notorious recursion extended beyond what was
built into the script. One of the gimmicks in the film is that the main
character starts to find himself in the media he encounters: he's drawn into
cartoons, he's in web ads promoting books he's just been given, etc. I started
to get a little bit of that same feeling! The entire story is fueled primarily
by Autistic Death Terrors™ and centers on a man afflicted by
who after some initial small-scale artistic success takes on a project that
spirals out of control and winds up taking decades... true, a movie with this
much stuff crammed into it is going to speak to a lot of people in different
ways, but still, there's something uncanny about watching an intensely
recursive movie with a gum-charting scene in it the same day you get your own
gums charted. Even the plot thread about the protagonist's first wife and
daughter came uncomfortably close to what Elizabeth says my life might be like
if I'd had a daughter with Jen. (I'm planning to go to Victoria next
month — assuming my new passport arrives in time — and
if Lizzie's house is on fire, well, that'll just be the last straw.)
Ultimately, though, the movie devolves into an impenetrable, tedious mess,
and I can't really recommend it. The second half did have some interesting
moments, including some with IF overtones and a funeral scene that essentially
recaps a conversation I had early on in the development of my current project
(now in, sigh, its third year). And of course anyone who's written a roman
à clef will find that Kaufman's obsession with simulacra has some
resonance. But
Mick LaSalle nails it: "The movie fails as a piece of entertainment. It
fails by even the most indulgent standard. After a promising 45 minutes to
an hour, the story derails. Some glimmers of brilliance remain, and they're
worth savoring, but mostly Kaufman just spins his wheels in the second half.
He repeats the same kinds of scenes over and over until watching the film
becomes in itself an existential trial. I don't know if this is praise or
criticism, but I've had entire months go by faster than the second hour of
this movie."
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