Synecdoche, New York

Synecdoche, New York ½

Lonely miserable people being lonely and miserable, egotistical and alienated people being egotistical and alienated, reality’s hopelessness and alegorical fiction’s literalism. An exercise on how achingly insufferable a film can be - it’s certainly ironic how surrealism can be so literal and obvious when overwritten. I won’t deny the film’s cohesively written meditations on mortality and existential angst by the means of a well structured uncompromising maximalism, and I can definitely see what interested so many people in this very excessive postmodern exercise, but I have such a drastically different worldview than Kaufman’s that i can’t help but getting utterly annoyed by his aggressively egocentrical dark humor and bloated cynicism. I also must mention that his witty, smartass formal sharpness and beguiled drama lies quite far from my particular sensibilities, I just rolled my eyes at every single remark he ended up doing, which on top of the very gullible intersection between naturalism and surrealism reduced to self-indulging metaphors just turned everything absolutely unbearable for me.

Solipsism as cartesian skepticism, the world exists inside one’s conscience, not the other way around. One’s consciousness is an extention of the world, as he makes an effort to externalize his inner self, searching for an artistic expression that translates his misery and connects him to the world, he find that everything lies inside of him. How one’s actions destroy everyone and everything around him and how everyone’s actions destroy everything inside of hin, for everyone is the protagonist of their own stories while everyone else are but extras.

The film’s mix of harsh comedy and stark discourse might seem excessively bleak and that could definitely induce some kind of emotional impact, but everything is so tedious with that constant unbearable tonal approach that it ends up being not even slightly affecting in any way other than incredulously detestable. As Baskin points out, the overbearing sadness is more of an attempt at being as sincere and open as possible about the author’s existential angst, his broken personality and inner thoughts, it’s a shame that it translated to me personally as self-congratulatory zaniness. Definitely not for me.