ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE: a review of "Synecdoche, New York"

As the final reveal of my Top 10 favorite films of the decade will occur very soon, I wanted to post the full review of one film that has defiantly earned a place and it was originally written December 2008.

"SYNECDOCHE, NEW YORK" 
Written and Directed by Charlie Kaufman
**** (4 stars)

Earlier this month, there was a death in my family. Over the period of a little over one week, we watched the deterioration, the body's failure and finally, the very last breath. We were all witnesses to the process of dying and after seeing death in the same room with us, we were all obviously affected and in ways I don't know if any of us can truly articulate right now, but we were all transformed. I am bringing this up because this afternoon, I saw "Synecdoche, New York" the directorial debut of screenwriter Charlie Kaufman.

I have been a fan of Kaufman's screenplays and have deeply appreciated their delirious creativity. "Being John Malkovich" and "Adaptation" redefined what movies could be for me by their topsy-turvy narratives and while not for everyone, I was swept away by the sheer joy of the proceedings as I anxiously travelled down the rabbit holes Kaufman set in place. "Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind" offered something more profound and emotionally deeper. A love story and perhaps one about finding your soul mate that felt emotionally true despite the mad dash through Jim Carrey's subconscious. With "Synecdoche, New York," I can easily say that I was not prepared for it and the effect it would have on me. It was an overwhelming experience and I felt pinned to my theater seat even after the end credits ceased to scroll.

While this movie is nearly indescribable, I will try to give you an opening. Philip Seymour Hoffman plays Caden Cotard, an upstate New York theater director miserably married to his artist wife (a chilly Catherine Keener). Caden is a loving yet detached parent to a 4 year old daughter who is terrified at her own bodily functions and secretions and he also harbors a crush on Hazel (Samantha Morton), the direct and flirtatious young woman who operates the theater's ticket booth. As the film opens, Caden begins to inexplicably suffer from an undiagnosed disease just as his wife takes their daughter and leaves him to pursue her art in Berlin.

From this starting point, the film flies off into a variety of territories over quite possibly a 40 year time span from Caden's unsuccessful therapy sessions, the continual aging and decay of his own body, his disastrous relationships, his pursuit of his daughter through her diaries, and mostly via his hoped-for masterpiece, an epic and personal theatrical production housed inside of an impossibly large warehouse and filled with a collective of actors hired to portray Caden and everyone he has possibly ever known within his real life.

The threads do not really matter that much as this is not a film asking the audience for a logical conclusion. Like Kaufman's previous scripts, they are all journeys, in one way or another, through the mind and how we perceive issues of human triumph and usually, frailty. This film, quite possibly his most impenetrable, contains a "dream logic" that cannot be easily explained--if at all. Characters age rapidly. Marriages with one character float into another. Genders alter. A house is constantly enveloped in some sort of fire for no apparent reason. Worlds are contained within other worlds. Lives within other lives. Dreams within other dreams. And somehow, someway, this film is emotionally true as what it is exploring is the process of living and dying. Are we are seeing a life nearing its conclusion? Or it is all a dream of sorrow, a dream of the loss of unrealized wishes, or a dream of death and dying? When the body fails, where does the mind go? If all of the world is a stage and we are merely players, what is our "real" life? Is it at the point of dying where a life of profound loneliness can find its soul mate, the one who truly understands in a way that no one else could? And once we have passed on, does any of that matter anyway? Unanswerable questions in a film that continuously reveals itself only to close itself up again.

Yes, I am certain that many viewers will find this film to be completely pretentious and self-consciously "artsy." Maybe it is. But, I believe that this is just how Kaufman writes and his style is not a gimmick meant to pull one over the audience's eyes. I don't think he is that crass. And to pull off the final moments of this film shows the attention and work of someone who has lived with the aforementioned questions and topics deeply.

Phillip Seymor Hoffman is a revelation, always finding the right emotional note in a story that is not always "real." His despair, disappointment and romantic longing feels so very lived in that it cannot help but to be believed. Much credit must also be given to composer Jon Brion whose evocative score is not simply the connective tissue but provides the musical voice of a life failing and almost finished.

"Synecdoche, New York" asks of itself and of us what it is to be human. What connects us and what makes us all the same. We are born, we live and we die but how do we live, what do we live for and how we leave this life are the things that make us unique and the things that provide the connections we make with each other.

"Synedoche, New York" is one of the very best films of 2008.