Synecdoche

Charlie Kaufman’s Synecdoche, New York

 

Baffling, sur­real, and haunt­ing, Synecdoche, New York presents a world within a world, a stage within a stage, dou­bled, tripled, extended, bounded and unbounded by dream logic and exis­ten­tial dread. It is a film that needs to be seen more than once. More than twice. I know because I watched it yes­ter­day for the first time …

and it’s still bang­ing around in my head.

Charlie Kaufman, the writer behind Being John Malkovich; Adaptation; and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, directs for the first time from his own script. And it’s a Vianesque doozy.

Philip Seymour Hoffman plays Caden Cotard, a the­ater direc­tor in Schenectady, New York. Cotard is mar­ried to Adele Lack (played by Catherine Keener), an artist of minia­tures. They have a daugh­ter, Olive (Sadie Goldstein), age 4 when the movie opens. The film tra­verses roughly 40 to 50 years, with much of the pas­sage of time being lost on Cotard. Lost in a real sense. Lost in a metaphor­i­cal sense. Lost. At one point early in the film, he thinks his wife has been gone for a month, after she leaves him to go to Berlin with their daugh­ter, and is reminded that it’s been a year. When he takes off sud­denly to find his daugh­ter (he’s mar­ried now to Claire, an actress, played by Michelle Williams), he still thinks she’s 4. Once in Germany, he dis­cov­ers she’s 10.

Time pass­ing. Fate. Choices. Tentacles. Choices lead­ing into and out of the web of life. Wrong choices lead­ing to missed oppor­tu­ni­ties and dead ends. An early metaphor for this is the burn­ing house. The house on fire that Hazel chooses to buy and live in. Hazel the love of Caden Cotard’s life, the box-​​office girl turned Girl Friday (played by Samantha Morton). She buys a house that lit­er­ally is on fire, a slow, slow fire that con­sumes it over a period of many years and later becomes the scene of Cotard’s best and worst day.

Dream logic. Jung. Freud. Boris Vian. Olive is tatooed at age 10, and many years after that the flower tatoos wither, die, fall off.

Perhaps the cen­tral metaphor and motif of the film is the stage, life as a play, actors on the stage. We direct, are directed. We cre­ate, are cre­ated. At the begin­ning of the film, Cotard is pro­duc­ing his own ver­sion of Death of a Salesman, with young actors in the key roles. This fore­shad­ows events in the rest of the film, the exis­ten­tial dread of aging, dying, los­ing loved ones, for­get­ting about the pas­sage of time. Perhaps because of his choice to shift the age of the actors, and not long after his wife has left him, Cotard receives the news that he has won a MacArthur Genius Grant. This pro­vides seem­ingly unlim­ited funds (again, dream logic) to pro­duce his mas­ter­piece of life over the course of many, many years. He moves his once small the­ater troop into a huge ware­house in New York’s the­ater dis­trict, hires thou­sands of actors and tech­ni­cians, and they work cease­lessly on the cre­ation of a new Theater of Life. They dou­ble and triple every­thing. A ware­house within a ware­house. Actors hired to play actors. Actors hired to play Cotard, Claire, Hazel. Dopplegangers, shad­ows, twins galore. And who is the audi­ence for this? Who is the only audi­ence for this mas­sive construction/​reconstruction? It appears that we are. Alone.

 

Synecdoche, New York received mixed reviews. Some crit­ics loved it, loved Kaufman’s audac­ity, sur­re­al­ism, tragic sense of life, use of Kafka, Freud, and the clever sprin­kling of asso­nance through­out. Others felt it was tremen­dously self-​​indulgent. Upon first view­ing, I’d say this film will live for decades and be much dis­cussed. I’m also guess­ing that it will be seen as a mas­ter­piece of cin­ema over time.

 

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One of the truly great things about DVDs is the chance to peak behind the scenes at process. Synecdoche, New York pro­vides a great deal to enhance the movie expe­ri­ence in that regard. It also tries some­thing dif­fer­ent. Five film critics/​bloggers have an intense and lively dis­cus­sion about the film. It’s one of the best I’ve ever wit­nessed. Don’t for­get to watch it. Not before you see the film, of course. After. Always after.

I’ll blog more about the movie after my sec­ond viewing .…

 

 

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