Synecdoche, New York

Astonishing. Kaufman has surpassed himself with a film that will delight and confound. You will want to see it again. And again.

No film with an ambition this large, and achievement this impressive, can be anything but exhilarating, a vital affirmation of the creative process.

For this master of mindfuckery, Synecdoche, New York probably qualifies as a magnum opus, since it essentially multiplies "Adaptation" by an exponential factor and thus grows into a snarling, ungainly beast of self-reflexive absurdities.

Will mesmerize some and mystify others, while many will be bored silly. It's not a dream, Kaufman says, but it has a dreamlike quality, and those won over by its otherworldly jigsaw puzzle of duplicated characters, multiple environments and shifting time frames will dissect it endlessly.

Watching the film is also wearying, like assembling a puzzle from a box into which a sadist continually pours new pieces. I was still processing details when the abrupt ending snatched the puzzle away.

The problem is that the movie's worldview, in the end, isn't expansive enough to justify the (quite literal) stage it takes place on.

I gave up making heads or tails of Synecdoche, New York, but I did get one message: The compulsion to stand outside of one's life and observe it to THIS degree isn't the mechanism of art -- it's the structure of psychosis.

If you read philosophy of Jung you will encounter this movie sooner or later. Charlie Kaufman puts a great deal of Jungian archetypes in this, really that stuff is a template, and it's amazing. There are 4 parts to the unconscious realization, and through the course of the movie each is encountered. i won't go into the detailed analysis except to say that Jung was a proponent of expanding consciousness by way of understanding the unconscious, whether it be your opposite gender side or instincts or what not. Phillip Seymour Hoffman really owns the role and masterfully carries the movie through it's tremendous scope of thought. Not to be missed.

Like most things involving Kaufman, this movie is impossible to predict. At times it can be hard to connect with movie, and while Seymour Hoffman is as captivating as ever, this is one of Kaufman's weaker effort

Phillip Seymour Hoffman is A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. I just can't give it a higher rating since I didn't understand it completely. I guess that I will have to rewatch it.

Synecdoche New York was booed when it was first screened at cannes. Having now seen it, I know why. First off let us say in defence of Synecdoche New York, that it is quite nicely lit and the art direction creates a visual atmosphere that is both elegant and soothing. Now all that's missing is a meaningful script, a decent director and a reason why. Synecdoche New York is the sort of self-important twaddle that makes audiences snore and critics grovel. The meta-physical mumbo-jumbo the film exudes makes no sense whatsoever and the film itself resists unlocking. Prepare to be told that it's a masterpiece. One over-zealous critic called it a "religious experience". No wonder church attendance is low on sunday. Phillip Seymour Hoffman came across as the only actor who actually gave a damn about the film. But his performance is so thoroughly engulfed in the long shadow of pretentiousness cast by hack writer/director Charlie Kaufman that it's hard to praise it. It's a real shame because Synecdoche New York has enough poetry for several great films but Kaufman somehow manages to muff it up. He's made a 2 hour bore-fest that possesses no thematic substance whatsoever. This is a failure of epic proportions. You've got to be a genius to make a movie this bad.

Synecdoche New York was booed when it was first screened at cannes. Having now seen it, I know why. First off let us say in defence of Synecdoche New York, that it is quite nicely lit and the art direction creates a visual atmosphere that is both elegant and soothing. Now all that's missing is a meaningful script, a decent director and a reason why. Synecdoche New York is the sort of self-important twaddle that makes audiences snore and critics grovel. The meta-physical mumbo-jumbo the film exudes makes no sense whatsoever and the film itself resists unlocking. Prepare to be told that it's a masterpiece. One over-zealous critic called it a "religious experience". No wonder church attendance is low on sunday. Phillip Seymour Hoffman came across as the only actor who actually gave a damn about the film. But his performance is so thoroughly engulfed in the long shadow of pretentiousness cast by hack writer/director Charlie Kaufman that it's hard to praise it. It's a real shame because Synecdoche New York has enough poetry for several great films but Kaufman somehow manages to muff it up. He's made a 2 hour bore-fest that possesses no thematic substance whatsoever. This is a failure of epic proportions. You've got to be a genius to make a movie this bad.