Review of Synecdoche, New York (2008) by Kylie P — 15 May 2010

Like all of his other films, Synecdoche, New York, meanders through Kaufman's particular idiomatic palate, his own stream of consciousness, which at times is wonderfully clever and, also, at times is painfully sad. This film is an exercise in existential crisis in ways that his previous films, namely Eternal Sunshine and Malkovich, could never be because there is no humor in Caden's life. The film steers well clear of any commentary on the ironic or the idiosyncrasies of life and, instead, thrusts its skewer of physical and metaphysical longing straight into the viewer's gut.

The concept here is so purposeful, so ambitious, it may not be surprising that the film ultimately and ever so slightly suffers from the weight of its own bloated quality. Caden's journey is all at once real and surreal, and Hoffman's gut-wrenching performance keeps what could be a scattered and difficult to comprehend story arc finely focused and emotionally engaging. The women he surrounds himself with, in lieu of the absence of his wife and child, form the looking glass for his own self-examination, and, yet, he is never able to see the forest for the trees, even in the mimetic presentation that is his play, until the last moment.

The performances by all are exceptional given the complexity of the work, and the entrance of each new actress into the proceeding is really interesting. In fact, the film almost feels like another Nine, except that the main character directs plays, not films, and the artistic struggle is much more centered on self and its meaning when surrounded by pain, longing, and ill health than it is about the women in which the director seeks comfort and respite (or inspiration) for his artistic vision. Also, this film is no musical; the score itself is conspicuously understated, while the cinematography and other technical elements subtly form the overall bleak and ponderous mood of the film.

The only and biggest problem with the film is that it may actually incite the viewer to take anti-depressants. Well, that, and some of the forays into the Caden character and the quests he undertakes seem disjointed with the rest of his life's journey. It's exceptionally hard to know at times when what is happening to Caden is real or a product of his fantasy, his artistic vision, particularly in the latter third of the film. For example, there is an extended sequence in which Caden decides to take action and search out Olive, only to find her grown and on her death bed, espousing of the life she led under the care of her mother and her mother's friend (and her eventual lesbian lover) Maria. The scene, one can assume, is meant to explore Caden's guilt at being absent from Olive's life, and yet, it's hard to ascertain whether the scene is real or a figment of Caden's imagination, and whether Caden finds solace and redemption in this vision or compounds his depression and guilt further (or both). Also, as the play drives toward its inevitable conclusion and as it rapidly becomes its own monster of existentialist crisis, the pacing grows uneven, since the play and, indeed, the film becomes something almost too big for any of its characters, within the film or those making it on the outside, to handle. Still, the sheer inspiration behind this invention is an ingenious, beautiful, and painful wonder to behold.