The best film I saw at this year's Austin Film Festival turns out to be one of the best movies I've seen all year. Synecdoche, New York is a cinematic experience that I expect to stick with me for some time to come. During a post-show Q&A with director Charlie Kaufman, only one question really stuck out to me, because it hit at what I think this film does well. It was a pretty closed-ended question about whether he had ever considered making a time travel movie. Kaufman answered that he had seriously intended as a child to build a time machine and use it to solve the world's problems and things that scared him, like death. He said (perhaps jokingly) that he still intends to build that time machine.
What I found most fascinating about Charlie at this moment was that without intending to, he very profoundly articulated the purpose of his script and the movie that resulted.
I approached him afterward as people were shoving DVDs and photocopies of the Malkovich script in his hands to autograph, which he was generously plowing through. I told him I didn't have anything to guilt him into signing, but that perhaps he's built the time machine and just adding parts as he goes from film to film. He seemed momentarily taken out of the moment and said, "I hadn't thought of that."
There are those who would say that Synecdoche, New York is nothing but a gloom ride that is oppressively depressing, but I think that may be too simple of an analysis. It's easy to feel boxed-in by a movie ostensibly about death and the futility of one man's quest for closure and peace. I honestly feel boxed-in and utterly worthless trying to write about it. Kaufman's scripts have often had "meta" attached to them in the manner of "oh dude that is so meta." The "Malkovich Malkovich" scene from Being John Malkovich being one of many examples. I suppose I feel metafutile in trying to articulate what I feel about the movie in the form of a review.
Especially in the realm of writing online about the movie business, movies themselves, and theoretical movies that have not yet been (or will be) made, you hit those points when you just outright ask yourself "what the fuck is the point?" and throw your hands up in frustration, crawl back into bed, or just take the dog for a walk. It's like that for anyone with a job or creative pursuit. In particular, a strand of the movie I could particularly grasp on from personal experience was the theatre production featured in the first bit.
Caden Cotard (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) is a theatre director putting on a production of Death of a Salesman wherein he has intentionally cast younger actors as Willy and Linda Loman as an "artistic choice." He's anguishing over the fact that everything, according to him, is going terribly and the show will be a massive failure. Anyone who has ever done theatre (community, educational, or Equity) will tell you that's how it always goes. It's always horrible right before it gets better. You just keep hoping the "better" part eventually comes.
You meet Caden as he believes he is beginning to die (aren't we all, once we've been born?) and you watch Caden go all the way to the zenith of his life. Spoilers are available elsewhere, but suffice to say that his concept and execution of what a production is grows impossibly grand in scale. This is an absolute must-see for anyone involved in any creative trade, from the ticket-tearing fan to the "real life" engineer who finds a way to make the impossibly complex community theatre stage design work to the visionary at the top commanding the ship.
The experience of watching the movie itself was extremely cathartic for me, and though it steeped in the "what's the point" stuff for a while, I made my peace with it. There are those films that truly fill you with the "feelings of doom" that doctors ask about when trying to shove depression pills in your hand and then leave you with an unfilled bottle of pills by the end of the movie. This movie, it seems, took Kaufman's time machine into the future and found the cure for all those shitty feelings, came to find me in the present, and re-arranged some synapses.
I felt confused once it was all over, not for lack of comprehension, but rather due to some indignation toward myself. "Why do I have those days where I just sit around?" I demanded of myself, fists shaking with rage. The funeral scene mentioned in Jeff and others' reviews came across to me as "here's your funeral, Mr./Mrs/The Viewer. Okay, now it's over, so get on living your life and doing what makes you happy."
Aside from all of the deeper infused meaning, the movie is hilarious in regular doses thanks to an expertly-cast group of actors. If I were to pick one out at random to heap praise on it would be Hope Davis as Caden's shrink. Now that I've gotten myself into this mess of picking favorites by writing that last sentence, I'd be remiss to not mention all of the excellent performances in here, so now consider me remiss.
I do have to mention Tom Noonan for a second though, risking the careless reputation I've just established for myself. I was clicking around on IMdB listings and found an interesting quotation of his:
"I don't think you go to a play to forget, or to a movie to be distracted. I think life generally is a distraction and that going to a movie is a way to get back, not go away."
Make of that what you will.
In closing, I'd like to take a moment to mourn the utterly dreadful state of our national level of education here in the old US of A, specifically as it applies to the title of the film. They introduced the film beforehand as so appropriate for a festival that focuses on the writer, and what an understatement to be made. Unfortunately, I find it amazing that so many people I meet at these things or friends from college finish with some sort of degree in writing and don't know what "synecdoche" itself is, including the "like totally aspiring writer" sitting near me who asked Kaufman "like did you really ghostwrite Identity, dude?" Should there be a standardized test for writing awards, fellowships, and grants to prevent that guy from ever getting any money for writing? I think there should be, and I'll go on record saying that's the only standardized test I'm in favor of. Well, that's for me and the poet shirt-wearing Twilight fans to argue about next time we eat Arrugula and Goat Cheese while toasting social elitism.
Also...no, the word "synecdoche" doesn't do you any favors with the people who aren't interested in examining their lives for missed opportunities or faults, nor does the plot of the movie lend itself to these people who pal around with idiots. The film as it plays isn't one you want to trick Joe the Max Payne-Worshipper into walking in to see. He won't like it in the first place. He'll walk out, ask for a refund, and go down the hall to watch Max Payne again, writhing in ecstasy at all the gunfire and exploding furniture. This is an arthouse movie people will seek out thanks to the extraordinary pedigree of its writer/director and cast as well as the strong critical acclaim. The road is very bright ahead for a smart, introspective film among the spread of dumbed-down crap that's out there. Know many people who, at its time of release, would have argued that The Adventure and The Eclipse sound any better than L'avventura or L'eclisse because the latter have too many syllables and/or vowels?
Watch your local arthouse listings with bated breath for this one to pop up. It's well worth the admission and emotional investment.