Synecdoche, New York

Synecdoche, New York

Thank you very much, Mr. Philip Seymour Hoffman.

“I will be dying and so will you, and so will everyone here. That's what I want to explore. We're all hurtling towards death, yet here we are for the moment, alive. Each of us knowing we're going to die, each of us secretly believing we won't.”

My whole life is just a stage play ... ?

A man decides to build the biggest, most ambitious theater piece that will leave him remembered forever. Is it a dream, a magical realism that represents the state of humankind as a whole? Life gives no easy answer just like Synecdoche, New York. We see ourselves in Cotard, constantly questioning our fugacious existence plagued by diseases, depressions, heartbreaks, and loneliness.

Caden Cotard is a sopping mess. He never fully understands his nightmares. The creaky chanting of “I’m going to die” continuously elongated, shaping itself into a travesty. He supposes that he fears for the state of humanity is in and wondering if anything has meaning at all. He ponders when the world has started its downward spiral… Time is fleeting, years become seconds and the man is only getting older and older in this preordained outcome, seemingly plunging toward death. He sluggishly moves around his absurd living space in a domain too extreme for pedestrians to see. As it starts expanding, the sprawling theatrical work is magically misshaped, distorted with the real entity. We’re sunk deep inside Charlie Kaufman fuckery head-space, a maze with no way out, an alternate world that mirrors each of our own personality. The movie’s flow is lost in an erratic conundrum and unexpectedly caught up between reality and fiction. Deliberately, doppelgangers are formed in a split reality, complicating the truth of our human nature; a realization slowly creeps in for one to catch a glimpse of hidden beauty that had not been noticed before. The meta-ness of Synecdoche, New York is a powerful deconstruction of the morbid civilization we live in today - Sad and depressing, art is simply a reflection of reality. 

Humanity altogether is being pulled back by misery, similar to the protagonist, ceaselessly mourning for sympathy. Cotard often spends too much time to make sense of his personal existence instead of trying to live and appreciate its unadorned beauty ... Then it all becomes too late. Like life itself, I will have to unpack this movie until I 


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