"The simulacrum is never that which conceals the truth - it is the truth which conceals that there is none. The simulacrum is true." - Jean Baudrillard
In his treatise, Simulacra and Simulations, Jean Baudrillard hypothesized that we (as a modern society) no longer live in the real world, but rather, a simulated version that has become more real than reality. That sort of rumination on the nature of reality has become a trademark in the films of Oscar-winning screenwriter Charlie Kaufman. Never has this been more prevalent than with Synecdoche, New York, the latest meta-textual mind twister by the scribe behind Being John Malkovich, Adaptation, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Synecdoche marks the directorial debut of Kaufman and it is the screenwriter’s most personal film yet. It is a film that is nearly as obfuscated as its title.
The title, Synecdoche, is both a play on the town of Schenectady and a reference to a figure of speech that is commonly used, but most people probably didn’t even know there was a name for it. There’s a lot of that going on in the film which is filled to the brim with symbolism and clever wordplay. Kaufman takes us on an existential journey of discovery that is anchored by another remarkable performance from Philip Seymour Hoffman. However, you can’t hinge your entire movie on just one actor, no matter how great he is. That is why Kaufman surrounds Hoffman with a bevy of talented actresses, each well-known on the arthouse circuit. There´s Catherine Keener, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Samantha Morton, Emily Watson, Michelle Williams, Dianne Wiest, and Hope Davis. I kept waiting for Laura Linney or Illeana Douglas to pop up.
Hoffman is the alliteratively named Caden Cotard, a theater director mounting Death of a Salesman, who becomes plagued by problems both physical and emotional. Caden suffers from various ailments such as blood in his stool, muddy urine, pustules on his face, and eventually violent seizures. After a mishap with the kitchen faucet, he’s bounced around from doctor to doctor, from ophthalmologist to neurologist. None of whom can tell Caden exactly what is wrong with him. There’s a distance growing between Caden and his bohemian wife Adele Lack (Keener) who, in a uniquely Kaufman fashion, paints portraits on miniature canvases that must be viewed through a magnifying glass. One day, Adele leaves for an art exhibit in Berlin with their daughter, Olive (Sadie Goldstein), and never comes back.
Caden tries to find comfort from his marriage therapist, Madeleine Gravis (Davis), but all she can do is shill her own self-help books. He bounces in and out of a relationship with Hazel the box office girl (Morton sporting red hair and plenty of cleavage). Hazel, by the way, buys a house that is perpetually on fire and dumps Caden for the realtor’s son who happens to live in the basement. No longer with Hazel, Caden bounces into a second marriage with his lead actress, Claire Keen (Williams).
Things seem to be going well when Caden is given the MacArthur Fellowship, also known as the ´genius grant.´ Caden sees this as an opportunity to put on a play about life, death, and everything. He rents out a massive theater that looks more like an airplane hangar and casts Claire as his star, a thinly veiled version of Hazel who eventually returns to Caden as his assistant. The years roll on, the cast grows by the hundreds, and the set grows into a scale replica of the city itself. The lines between reality and the play bleed further when Caden seeks out an actor to play himself. He finds Sammy (Tom Noonan) who has been observing Caden for a long time. He can be spotted in the background in several scenes. It gets even more confusing when Caden hires an actress (Watson) to play the Hazel to Sammy´s Caden. Then, Sammy hires an actor to play Caden while he directs him as Caden while the real Caden directs him. Err…at least; I think that’s how it’s supposed to go.
Time also plays an important factor. In the world of Synecdoche, it moves in a nebulous fashion. For Caden and the audience, minutes may pass, but it has actually been years. Months go by without notice in between bites at the breakfast table.
Kaufman has weaved a surreal world with idiosyncratic touches that might make Luis Bunuel proud. Synecdoche isn’t quite as fantastical as Being John Malkovich or Eternal Sunshine. While there has always been an underlying layer of tragedy in Kaufman’s films, Synecdoche is far more bleak and pessimistic. Caden is a dying man desperate to leave his mark on the world. At the same time, his immense autobiographical play is a means for him to observe firsthand what he has done wrong with his loves and his life. On a more intimate level, Caden is a father searching not just for meaning in his life, but for a long-lost daughter. In one of the film´s more powerful scenes, Caden discovers an adult Olive (now working as a living tableau of tattoo art) dancing naked in a glass booth. He pounds the barrier between them only to be dragged away with Olive completely oblivious to his existence.
Synecdoche isn’t without its light moments. They are sprinkled throughout the narrative with humor so deadpan that they make deadpan look like the Marx Brothers. Yet the film can’t escape the gravity of its somber tone. Restless audience members will find what little patience they have tested by the methodical pace. Synecdoche easily veers into territory that is overly pretentious and Kaufman may not have had the most objective eye when it came to trimming the fat.
I wouldn’t call Synecdoche a total loss, not by a long shot. It is true there is quite a lot to chew on, but if you can get past it all, you’ll find something meaningful. I would definitely consider Kaufman to be one of the most important writers working in Hollywood today. A straightforward plot summary leaves out so much of the sublime elements in Kaufman’s magnum opus. It is a daunting film that will need multiple viewings to catch every little detail. It should go without saying that Philip Seymour Hoffman is wonderful, backed by an ultra-talented supporting cast and the final act is oddly affecting. If Kaufman had spent a few more hours in the editing room, Synecdoche would get a more wholehearted recommendation.
Rating: ** ½
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