Synecdoche: Is That All There Is To A Fire?

I love Synecdoche, New York. I love it with a strange abandon that is both painfully obvious and beautifully mysterious. I love its ballsy ambition and fearlessness -- a fearlessness that nearly teeters over the edge of its own message and reason, and yet remains entirely harmonized and rooted in real life. I've examined the movie numerous ways. It hits me personally. The movie crawls into my body, and pokes at places that are tender to the touch -- places I might choose to have left well enough alone.  It makes me think of dreams, my own dreams, and theories of dreams, specifically Jungian (but I don't want to crawl into that particular portal at this moment). It reminds me of one of my literary heroes, Dostoyevsky and the concept of the doppelgänger (from Dostoevsky's brilliant The Double). It takes me to Fellini, Bunuel, Bergman. But it's all Charlie Kaufman.

I know a few people, many of them Kaufman admirers, who detest this picture. Upon first viewing, I witnessed strangers in the theater actively despise the movie, awakening from their annoyed torpor, shaking their heads to say "what a load of self indulgent crap." It was like emerging from a bizarre-o Woody Allen film only to walk into a real live Woody Allen movie, with Kaufman serving as Fellini. But I wasn't baffled by such responses, and I'm not going to challenge a viewer's contempt. I can't pull the "they just don't get it" routine. No, they just don't like it. And sometimes (sometimes) when a viewer hates a movie with that much Rex Reed foaming lather, they're actually getting more out of it than those who don't.

I don't feel it necessary to break down the plot. Selfishly, I'm returning back to myself, wondering why I like it so much. Why did the movie get to me, and beyond attempting to figure out its labyrinthian plot and outside-looking-in meta-movie-within-a play structure? Synecdoche deals with failure and death and creativity and disgusting rot and self absorption and is-that-all-there-is ponderances with such inspired aspiration and genuine soulfulness, I was left swooning with the idea that we are indeed, special and yet, not special at all. It's Benjamin Button's ugly brother showing his reality through his own kind of disorienting cinematic dreamscape.  It frightens me. And yet, I love it.

So, now, I will discuss all of this (or none of it) tonight, on stage with Charlie Kaufman at Ebertfest (with Michael Barker and Nell Minow also on board). You can watch it streaming, live tonight here, some time after 10 PM Central Time.  Good luck to all.

Update: Here's part of the discussion. Kaufman was brilliant and a charming fellow:

Comments

[alfie]

I pray that this discussion with Charlie Kaufman will be filmed and uploaded to youtube. I am in the UK and can't catch the livestream, but would so love to see your conversation.

And thanks for all your writing.

[Ripley Simon]

Me, I love self-indulgence. Southland Tales, Limits of Control, Death Proof, even Youth Without Youth, I'm a sucker for a director who goes overboard.

And, besides, when has Kaufman ever not been self-indulgent?

[Eric Reanimator]

Hoffman and Davis together again.

[SW]

Although not abandoning the movie theatre, Kaufman as well as Gilliam and a number of other film makers seems to sense how profoundly home video has changed the medium. Film is no longer a singular experience. It is more akin to a recording to be savored over and over. What seems self indulgent upon reflection (and perhaps repeated viewings) takes on a quality of universality. That self, is in there, in all of us if it is pulled off. It is at heart very brave.

Ironic in a way to find everyone by being so intensely personal.

[Jennarocca]

The Allen-Fellini comment is so on point it's terrifying. It's like I feel like it's about me personally. Not many films can do that.

Yeah I watched it in a Toronto theater that was full of people laughing at everything (me included). The sense of humor is impeccable.

[Man Over Board]

Being born in Schenectady, NY I remember how much I couldn't wait for this film to be released. Especially because Philip Seymour Hoffman was in the lead.

I had to watch it 4 times to completely give my honest opinion (not that anyone really cares).

The first two times I couldn't wait for it to end. Morose and maybe to realistic in the pain department. It wasn't until I gave up on it and then one night, bored, I decided to give it another look see. I was always immersed in the acting part of the film, but on the third viewing is when I discovered what a magnificent job this production was.
I rarely ever watch a film more then once, and I mean rarely. But because of the hometown card and Hoffman, I decided to watch it yet again. I don't consider myself slow in the thinking dept. but the third time was the charm. I can also tell you I actually looked forward to the 4th time.

[Jesue V]

Wow. I couldn't write a single word about this movie plainly because I couldn't think of any words to describe how I felt about it. But you summed up my feelings brilliantly here.