Synecdoche, New York Philip Seymour Hoffman stars as Caden Cotard, a theater director in Schenectady, N.Y., who finds himself on an unplanned journey to self-discovery
Director/Writer: Charlie Kaufman Starring: Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Samantha Morton, Michelle Williams, Catherine Keener Rated R for language and some sexual content/nudity.
by James Vance
Screenwriter Charlie Kaufman has carved out his own little quasi- arthouse corner of the American movie world with complex journeys into the psyche such as "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" and "Adaptation." With "Synecdoche, New York," he's turned to directing his own material, and the results are memorable but mixed.
Philip Seymour Hoffman stars as Caden Cotard, a theater director in Schenectady, N.Y., who finds himself on an unplanned journey to self-discovery after his wife packs up their 4-year-old daughter and flies to Europe without him. Already a neurotic mess, Caden reacts to the abandonment by withdrawing so deeply within himself that he sits around for a year decomposing mentally and physically and pining for the company of his little girl, the only apparent source of happiness in his life.
At some point during this period of darkness, Caden learns that he's the recipient of a MacArthur grant (a hefty real-life award also known as the "genius grant"), and he decides to apply this windfall to the creation of a highly personal piece of theater art which will, of course, shine a light on the truth about the human condition.
The rest of the film details Caden's obsession with staging this constantly evolving drama, a work that comes to consume not only his life but that of everyone around him.
At this point the film becomes a metaphor for itself, with us watching Kaufman's surrogate, Caden, hiring actors as surrogates for everyone in his life, including himself, and endlessly improvising scenes on a huge and constantly growing set that's clearly intended to be a surrogate for the outside world.
There are moments when "Synecdoche" (which means a word that defines the whole by naming a part of it, or vice versa) works as a clever satire of pretentious abstract drama. Unfortunately, Kaufman isn't kidding -- and he's apparently unaware that a lot of the avant- garde material he's giving us was old hat 40 years ago, when theater of the absurd was beginning to go stale.
Caden's narcissism and neurotic obsessions begin to pale long before the film wanders to its predictable conclusion. Though we follow him into old age, we never see Caden learn much that hasn't occurred to anyone else by age 30. It's an interesting enough look at the way people create themselves and their images of others to suit their own needs. But revelations like "you aren't the center of the universe" aren't much of a payoff after two hours of watching Hoffman's character stumble through the bizarre journey that Kaufman has laid out for him.
The cast is brilliant, and the movie remains eminently watchable due to its efforts. Hoffman immerses himself so admirably in Caden's misery and madness that he nearly saves the movie all by himself. It's a wonderful performance, human and intelligent, that's greater than the vehicle that contains it.
