greencap’s review published on Letterboxd:
SERIES: The Parker Myers Charlie Kaufman Odysseter for the Chronister
Film #1: Adaptation
All the regular comments and stuff out of the way first.
1. Chris Cooper tears the house down here
2. Meryl Streep is overrated
3. Nicolas Cage remains the most impressive and rewarding actor of our time
4. This movie is visually lifeless and Spike Jonze is a horrible director who caught lightning in a bottle with Her because he scored a good cinematographer
5. All the stuff with the Being John Malkovich set is extremely cool and I can't wait to watch that movie with that stuff in mind
Okay, now the proper Parker Myers Diary Entry Review can commence
Central to this film is self-awareness, obviously, and this results in numerous moments of real, true profundity, placed almost directly beside several moments of excruciating efface that are humiliating and embarrassing to witness. Bringing this up by default bullies me into a corner, because the "see but it's doing it on purpose! it's aware of itself. it knows its doing that." argument completely dulls the sharp edge of whatever blade that I am using to try and slice through this, leaving me chopping away at a tree with a stick of bamboo.
At the emotional climax of the film, there's a moment between Charles and Donald where Donald establishes through a high school backstory that one of the keys to life is loving without concern of being loved back, loving and taking complete ownership of that love through a complete and utter disinterest of the response.
"I loved her Charles. I owned it, that love. Sarah didn't have the right to take it away. I can love whoever I want."
-- "But she thought you were pathetic!"
"That was her business, not mine. You are what you love, not what loves you."
Is it just me that got grossed out by this? Am I missing something? This film is about accepting oneself and moving forward, so the acceptance is there I guess, because in Donald's backstory he loves shamelessly, accepting that he is who he is and the world will not always digest that. I guess maybe that if Sarah downright rejected Donald and told him no this would turn into a conversation of coercion and "incel" behavior, but Sarah just strung him along and Donald was fine with playing the blind fool. I don't know. It felt like a strange way to depict acceptance because it felt counterproductive and kinda toxic. I don't see how it is magical and profound to chalk up self-acceptance and emotional productivity to some kind of blind acceptance. Is that actually accepting oneself or just putting up a flower in your cubicle? Maybe that's the question the film asks. Either way, it left me feeling wrong.
I think my response to this particular moment is so jarring because it completely knocked me off my tracks with this film, and in a sense confronts why I relate to this movie, why I found it so moving, why I ultimately think the film is just alright but my response to it was very strong, blah blah blah. My relationship with movies like these (I guess maybe with just pieces of art that are so aware of themselves that they become about themselves) is difficult and complicated because I find self-awareness that is loud and in your face to be jarring, uncomfortable, unsatisfying. I think this is the case because it's really confrontational to my own internal life, my own creative process, et cetera. When I'm trying to be creative, it's always an extremely difficult process because every single time it feels performative, I always feel like I have to be solving some internal problem and answering some portion of unrest that I feel all the time. All of my writing tends to be stream-of-consciousness, and it feels like the only way I can get my thoughts out is by talking about me, rambling like I'm speaking to the therapist, processing art very slowly and neurotically in real time and making it all about me all the time ever go go go how is it about me keep going what about me is in this etc etc etc etc
In this sense, I regret to say that the film speaks directly to me. Charles is absolutely insufferable in this movie, and thinking about the real Charlie Kaufman penetrating through that insufferability by self-inserting with absolutely nauseating volume just makes me feel horrible, especially considering that's the way that I process things and write.
It's true for me though. Every little thing I write and watch, I've managed to turn inward, and every time I've felt unproductive and horrible and stationary, but every time I've moved forward. I just watched my creative process (or lack thereof) in this film and that horrifies me and grosses me out. But there are deep truths here, and in my own journey of self-acceptance, I've found similar epiphanies along the way; Every little thing I watch/write/read/make/etc places me even closer to having something, having myself, whatever, and I guess in that sense I've proven through process that I have always had that something and constantly am having new somethings, more and more and more.
This film feels like both the ultimate logical and accessible way to humor this type of mental constitution and really unwind that neurotic, anxious spool. It is entirely self-interested, regretfully so, and I relate to that. Every little thing I create knows it is being created, I know I'm creating it, and it seems impossible to find ease knowing that everything I make is a result of me, and a result of itself. It seems inescapable. In that sense, this movie really speaks to me, because throwing myself into that elusive passion (that thread, if you will) is to nail down the swells in my throat and chills down my spine and stretch them far beyond what I think of myself.
Maybe acceptance really is just throwing myself blindly into what I love, and beginning to group myself in that category! Maybe I can be less hard on myself and expect the world of myself. Maybe it really is that simple. It's confusing and disorienting to gain more nuance about the world, and with that nuance realize that it's just as simple as you ever thought it was.
I guess this movie just spoke to me. I hate that, but isn't that just how it goes. I wanna go write now.