The works of Charlie Kaufman could never be confused with something conventional. Prior to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, his films were intellectual exercises, constantly engaging the viewer’s mind but lacking any emotional impact. He introduced the term “meta” to an entire generation, though the most appropriate term for his writing is inappropriate to put in a newspaper. Nevertheless, the characters in Adaptation and Confessions of a Dangerous Mind are cold and emotionally distant, leaving the viewer in a similar state. Even Eternal Sunshine gets its feeling more from Michel Gondry’s direction than from Kaufman’s words. Synecdoche, New York, Kaufman’s directorial debut, is the apotheosis of the trend to this point. It challenges the viewer in ways normally reserved for David Lynch, yet it is almost completely devoid of emotion.
Synecdoche stars Philip Seymour Hoffman as Caden Cotard, a playwright given a MacArthur Fellowship. Cotard decides to make a play about real life, but not in the way you would think. What follows is nearly indecipherable as Kaufman constructs realities within realities. Cotard may have his namesake syndrome, which would cause him to falsely believe that his body is slowly shutting down, or that may be the truth. Within this possible delusion, Cotard constructs his play, so deeply based in reality that he creates a character Caden Cotard, played by Sammy (Tom Noonan). Sammy’s Caden begins to take control of the play, and things only get wilder from there.
But for the first time in his career, Kaufman has absolutely no interest in plot. The film has a clear destination, but it lacks a direction. It meanders for the majority of its running time, making the viewer feel the full extent of Cotard’s life. This is where the film finds its greatest successes. We see Caden and Sammy compete for the love of Hazel (Samantha Morton); we watch as Caden tries to find his daughter Olive in Berlin; we bear witness to a man coming to terms with the ends of his mental ability and his physical decay. In several ways, we watch a man die.
Kaufman isn’t the first man to use a deliberately non-linear structure to attempt to talk about “real life.” His insistence on an abstract representation of neuroses and psychology simultaneously recalls Woody Allen and David Lynch, two of the great examiners of the human mind still working in film. As opposed to attempts at presenting “real life” through a realistic style, represented in its most extreme by the Dogme films, Synecdoche attempts to reach beyond what people normally see. The stylization engages with the viewer’s mind in unusual ways, presenting moods more than images. An early shot of Caden entering the warehouse where he will stage his play minimizes him in comparison to the building. The symbolism works on multiple levels, each one showing Caden’s ineffectiveness before his ambition, his future, or simply the world around him. As in some of the best art, symbolism and abstraction say more about the “truth” or the world in which we live than simple presentation.
This is not a film for everyone. It challenges the viewer’s concept in reality while piling on layers of truths and untruths. Its scope remains epic, though that is true for its ideas more than its technical qualities. It refuses to give the viewer the easy way out, and that is sure to frustrate most people who go in. However, with the right set of expectations, the film flowers like few others. A careful eye will notice the repetitions of motifs, such as the use of the time 7:45. Synecdoche actively invites the viewer to watch it repeatedly and closely, and judging it based on one viewing is naïve at best. Nevertheless, Kaufman’s ambition manages to put forth a comprehensive view of what life is and can be. Synecdoche may never satisfy our desire to understand what is going on, but it will always leave the viewer thinking.
-dan
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