Synecdoche, New York - 2008, Dir: Charlie Kauffman.

   When sitting down to watch Charlie Kauffman's debut, it would be advisable to consider his body of writing work prior to it. A film written and directed by the man who wrote Being John Malkovich (1999) and Michael Gondry's Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) is very unlikely to emerge as a straight-laced piece of cinema. The idea of a passive, receptive audience seems obselete in Kauffman's eyes, with greater emphasis placed on stylistic motifs and the necessarily remarkable performances of the cast.The viewer is regularly required to detach from rationality and consider what is presented in terms of what it means, regardless of the surrealism and insanity of the scene on screen.


   Despite the director's close working relationship with Michael Gondry in the past, Synecdoche, New York is a taste of 'Kauffman direct' as it were, with no directorial buffer between the mind of the author and his work's manifestation on film. Philip Seymour Hoffman plays a theatrical director who, fresh from a successful stage production, has been awarded a MacArthur grant to use as he wishes. Hoffman's protagonist, Caden Cotard, seeks to use the grant to create the most honest and realistic piece of work achievable. Using an impossibly large warehouse in the theatre district of Manhattan, he gathers an ensemble cast of actors to stage the events of his own contemporary life. Building an ever-expanding set, a mock-up of the real world outside, Cotard oversees the development of his would-be masterpiece.


   On it's own, in a more conventional film, this narrative would be considered a novel one. Kauffman, however, constructs his film not around the Caden Cotard's project, but around his own mundane existence. As his professional project develops and grows, we delve deeper into the life of Cotard. His relationships with the women in his life, in particular, are exposed as complex, raw and inexorably fragile. The mystery of his exstranged ex-wife (Catherine Keener) and daughter's life abroad, his failing marriage to an actress (Michelle Williams) and the lingering shadow of his feelings for Hazel (Samantha Morton) weigh heavy on the protagonist. His compulsion to dwell on death, and the apparent deterioration of his health, all prove to blur Caden Cotard's perception of life as he immerses himself in the immensity of his project.

   The film's close involvement with the protagonist means his perspective is what the viewer sees. This is particularly telling when, at certain points in time, it seems that time has dramatically leapt forward. Every section of the film is layered with messages and motifs that allude to the reality of what is occurring in Cotard's life. This can have a jarring effect, making certain scenes seem frustratingly ambiguous and surreal. I would speculate that the patient, thoughtful viewer will find Charlie Kauffman's film to be a satisfying experience. The confused viewer should consider a little light reading in Jungian psychological theory and some research on the Cotard and Capgras delusions (referenced by name in the film).


   In short, this is a remarkable film. The layering of 'life performed' upon 'life lived' and the clashing of these two areas of Cotard's existence raise a variety of ideas about meta-reference. Hoffman's main character lives his life in the knowledge that his actions echo clearly and directly in his work, and when a character such as this cannot control his own life properly the effects prove dramatic. It is a towering performance from Hoffman, who takes the character from middle adulthood to the frail confines of old age with overwhelming candor. It is a story of life, love and loss, with a twisted perspective that makes it anything but ordinary.


Verdict: 9/10