Synecdoche, New York [Movie Review]

Eccentric and esteemed screenwriter Charlie Kaufman makes his directorial debut with Synecdoche, New York, a goulash of human and cinematic constructs. The film paints the rapidly progressing existence of theater director Caden Cotard (Philip Seymour Hoffman), a man trapped in an empty, estranged marriage, and suffering from a debilitating and mysterious illness.


One by one, Cotard begins to lose control of his autonomic functions, and terrified by the idea of his impending demise, sets out to achieve his masterpiece. He creates a massive and multidimensional theater project, a living and breathing metropolitan replica, housed in a New York City airplane hanger.

When viewed through strictly analytical eyes, the film’s beauty can be easily overlooked and the plot can become maddening. The audience is left to constantly guess whether or not the events on the screen are occurring in reality or are simply products of Cotard’s ailment. And from this view, the film’s progression, or perhaps lack thereof, becomes drudgingly anticlimactic; the big pay off never comes.

Conversely, absorbing the film’s stylistic and humanistic charm as it plays, and not harping on the logistics of it all, is an incredibly rewarding and engaging experience. The film is superbly acted and delightfully crafted. The dialogue is consistently witty and charming, and quirky nuances coat the screen at every turn. Synecdoche, New York is a film that transcends space and time, and reveals some insightful truths about the nature of both life and death.