Meta THIS Kaufman!

Happy Thanksgiving, my dear readership! I hope yours was as adorably Americana as my own.

I most definitely had a cake shaped like a Turkey, cause I fell in love with it. Food that appears to be other food, is a particular fancy of mine. Read into that how you like; "I prefer delusions over reality," "identity crises galore," etc. But damnit, a cupcake made to look like a game hen, is just more tasty!

Anyway, enough about my strange food fetishes. Synecdoche, New York. Just got back. Just had my life reexamined.

Loved it. Loved it. Possibly one of my new favorites. Loved it.

Granted, I'm sure the afterglow of the film will fade with a little shelf time, but at this point, so early in my return from the cinema, I'll bask where and when I can, thank you very much. Kaufman is my soul mate. My self-loathing, desperately lonely, hypochondriac, physically repulsive soul mate. Seriously, the entirety of his work seems to be a simulacrum of my own interior monologue.

Synecdoche, unlike his past films, (Malcovich and Adapation) is ALL Kaufman. Written and directed by, no mediation, no comprises. This is Kaufman at is very most pathetic and self-reflexive. Quick taste: Theater director (Philip Seymour Hoffman) wins a Macarthur, and chooses to create a play on a scale that encompasses life, truthfully and honestly as possible. His life, like all of his main characters is a shamble, aaaaaannnnddddd ACTION!

The film is impossible to describe, funny and smart, powerful and emotional, but more than anything else, entirely existential. I wish I could say more but it's incredibly difficult to put into words in all honesty, or at least, on paper.

So PLEASE friends and colleagues, see the film and call me to talk about it. You would make my month, and do yourself the favor of having seen it.

That's it for now, I'll probably check back in tomorrow, when I've slept on it a tad and to get some post-holiday reflection and malaise out of my system.

Love,
Your biggest fan.