Wednesday, May 2, 2007

Synecdoche, NY - Part II of II


MM’s soul-searching metaphysical Synecdoche, NY experience:

[MAJOR SPOILERS]

You can do this review, man. There is no script too difficult, right? You can and WILL find a way to get at the heart and soul and TRUTH of this outrageous epic of Charlie Kaufman. You love Charlie Kaufman. You can figure this out. You can find the truth through the process of writing a review. Okay, just relax. Look at it again.

It’s 152 pages. That’s incredibly long. What does that mean? Is this a burning piece of profound inspiration from a great writer? Or is this a first draft from a guy who’s just putting all of his thoughts down on paper? Or is this a matter of unchecked vanity? Has his fame caught up with him like M. Night Shyamalan’s who thinks his shit doesn’t stink when, in fact, his scripts still have to go through the normal process of rewrites until it’s molded to perfection?

Page 1. He forgot to write FADE IN, which is my favorite part of a script. But that’s okay. That’s not a bad sign. You’ll still find a way to love this. You'll get to the truth of it all. It’s Charlie Kaufman, ya know.

The opening kitchen scene is mundane to the point of being almost boring, which is surprising, disappointing, and yet confidence-building, because you know that there is a master design behind it all. I think this might be just a normal point of entry for everyone into what will be a very crazy story. There’s dual dialogue, which you don’t see often from pro writers. A radio talks about a luncheon in downtown Schnectady that I don’t think we ever see. There’s a subtle undercurrent of standard fare marital unhappiness between Caden and Adele. She talks to some woman on the phone. We see Adele wipe the bottom of their 4-year-old daughter, Olive. There are green smears on the toilet paper. Do we really see that? Ew. Caden isn’t feeling well. He seems distant from his family, lost in his own world. He cares more about his own illnesses, his career, the news he discovers about people dying than he does about the daily life of the people right in front of him.

He visits dentists and doctors and they all give him worrying news that he isn’t well, although no one knows exactly what the problem is and they all tell him to keep coming back for more tests. There's a freak accident in a bathroom. A trip to an emergency room. Caden notices people screaming. The doctor’s concerned that there’s a deeper problem in him and asks about his bowel movements. You get the sense that this could be the beginning of the end for Caden. He visits an Opthamologist. He endures an MRI. He’s constantly checking his stools, and we, too, are forced to view the many strange incarnations of Caden's feces. Once, it’s “dark and loose,” later it’s “black” and even “grey.” He pees in a sink. His urine is “amber.” Is there value in showing amber urine and grey poop in film? What can it mean? Is it to get a laugh? Or is it about trying to show us physical manifestations of Caden’s inner turmoil? Or is it about showing poop on film?

He's a director of plays and there’s a girl in the box office who wants to have an affair with him. Her name is Hazel. Later, she sees a run-over dog on the road. She actually goes to look at it more closely. It’s a bloody, gory mess. Yet, it’s barely alive. The head moves. She bends down to pet it and says “You’re not going to make it, baby.” I think perhaps, it's an overt reference to Caden himself. It’s a grotesque moment, is it not? It’s horribly ugly, but it has meaning, doesn't it? Should we condemn Charlie for many other moments like this one in the film where we are forced to view stomach-churning ugliness that has meaning? She takes it in. We later see it sleeping in a box in the corner of her apartment.

Caden takes the phrase “passive protag” to new heights. He does nothing but be so self absorbed about his problems and his illnesses and his play-directing that he neglects everyone around him. He fails to fight for the child that Adele takes away from him. He never makes decisions - he only caves in to pressure. He’ll agree to sleep with certain girls only after they practically throw themselves at him for days on end without a care in the world about the fact that he’s married and trying to be faithful. But he caves in anyway, and when the sex is over, he cries like a baby and ruins the affair. In fact, he does this on more than one occasion. Doesn’t this kind of behavior turn off audiences? Why should they care about this man who is so weak? But this pattern continues – after crying and ruining affairs, he flips emotionally and suddenly commits to the girl of the moment and begs her like a child to take him back, which they won’t do. He’s always fighting for the wrong girl and never once fights for his own daughter. By constructing a character that goes against everything every screenwriting book ever told you to do, has Kaufman done something right? Is it always necessary to love the person you’re watching in a movie? By seeing someone make all the wrong choices and lose those things that are most precious to him, do we not benefit so that we will hopefully make the right choices?


But that is only one aspect of Caden’s arc. We see him plummet into an obsession about his death, about death itself, and we also see him become enveloped by his own fears and paranoia about his health and his feces and the end of his life. The world around him slowly transforms from reality to a world of the absurd where you see people living in burning houses and other strange occurrences like that moment when the Salvation Army Santa spastically clawed at his beard and revealed a tortured blue face and then he gasped for air and died. And as the world transforms into the bizarre like a slow-moving wave, all of the imagery points to only one thing, that Caden finds himself surrounded by death and decay everywhere he turns – people are dying or committing suicide or friends of friends pass away or his own parents pass away and we see many funerals. And like a slow-moving wave, I find myself deeply saddened by it all. Why put an audience through so much sadness? Is the world so happy right now that we have to pay to be reminded of all this gloom? Is it really admirable and praiseworthy for an artist to do nothing more than to be a bit creative about shit and death? It’s not even the fact that it’s sad that bothers me but that it’s just repetitiously chronicled without any redeeming emotional lift in the end. It is like watching a man fall to his death and there’s no hope for any new development except that he continues to fall, and no ending except that he dies. Pre-destination may be useful in theology, but as a narrative strategy, it’s a bit self-defeating, isn’t it?

Yes, Caden reacts to this and does something about it. We find that he’s a theatre director who had put on a strange play that became a megahit. He’s given a genius grant and he decides that he should write one final play that’s big and true and tough. And he puts his own screwed up life into the story and tries to find truth through that process and put that truth into his art. He has an actor play him and other actors play the women he screwed and there is some whimsical confusion about art imitating life imitating art imitating life.

And none of it satisfies me because it comes across as not redeeming (in the sense of the redemptive power of film art) but as self-absorbed, self-congratulatory, self-promoting, and I really hate to say it, but vain in an even more perverse way than when he literally put himself into in the movie Adaptation. Didn’t he already cover the “creative process” in Adaptation? Why do we have to go through this again? And is this really the best approach to Caden’s story? Instead of him channeling all of his anguish and self absorbed problems into a play, shouldn’t he be actively trying to fix the problems in his life? Isn’t that where we find truth about life in films? When the Greeks put on tragedies, was it always their solution to escape into art and put on more plays? I mean, come on, Charlie. I love you, but tell me - is this really about story and characters and themes or is this about Charlie Kaufman showing the world how brilliant Charlie Kaufman can be? Or is this simply about Charlie Kaufman struggling to be inventive and original and so he finds himself forced to go to peculiar extremes to outdo Charlie Kaufman?

God, ya know, I feel like I’m almost there. I think I’m getting closer to the truth. Yet, I still can’t put my finger on it. I don’t know how to convey this core truth in the review. I just have to keep writing. Let me ask this question - how is it that this story went from real to the bizarre? At some point, in the 120s or 130s, the novelty of the concept wore off and I was just waiting for the ending and the answer to what was really going on, which I never got. I think I have an idea. I think, perhaps, in Kaufman’s mind, Caden is a man already dead, a man living in a half-world between stasis and anti-stasis and he’s just trying to make sense of his life, which saddens me all the more, because Caden's view is on the one hand entirely selfish and on the other, when he finally looks outside of himself, he ONLY sees a world that's full of death and ugliness and his solution is to crawl into his artwork.

But you know, even that answer doesn’t fully satisfy me. I have to get to the core truth of this story…

Oh my God...

I see it now.

I know what to write. It’s

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

Ger Shoots for the Moon!

Hey guys,

This is such a happy day for those of us who know the wonderful and brilliant comedy writer,
GER (a.k.a. Algernon Basiljet, a.k.a. Geraint Horwood). He has not only SOLD his first script, which is going into production THIS YEAR (called Journey to the Moon), but he now has his name on the Internet Movie Database – Geraint Horwood.

WOO HOO!

Of course, it’s the wrong name. I think he wanted to go with Algernon Basiljet, but that’s okay.

And they changed his title, too, which was The Moon Must Die! (Hence the photo at the top.)

And they want to turn it into a “musical?”

And… wait, this is now a “family” film?

And there’s some storyline about a miner who jumps onboard the spaceship? Are you kidding?

Oh, who cares!

Ger’s an official screenwriter now! YEAH, BABY!

I’ve noticed that a few critics have lately proclaimed the death of comedies. In fact, James Berardinelli wrote in a
recent review, “It's not that the art of making movie comedies is dead… but that filmmakers have become lazy and contemptuous of their audiences.” I have certainly felt that way at times. But when you read a screenplay by Ger you fall in love with comedies all over again like when you were a child and you just laughed and laughed until your stomach hurt. Ger is the best comedy writer on the market right now in terms of not only the volume of jokes he can write but also the clever turning points in his stories and the wide variety of ways he can make you laugh - physical humor, visual jokes, stupidity, lies, satire, wild exaggeration, cliches, double entendres, play on words, malaprops, insults, putdowns, ridicule, etc.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with his work, he had three scripts on
TriggerStreet about the misadventures of Professor Bathandler and his hapless group of Victorian explorers - Journey to the Island of Killer Dinosaurs, Dracula is Out of His Box, and The Moon Must Die. They are my favorite comedies. Unfortunately, the scripts aren't available to read anymore. However, I reviewed all three scripts last year, and below are highlights of those reviews just so all of my new readers out there can get a taste of Ger’s style.

Congratulations, Ger.

-MM

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On Journey to the Island of Killer Dinosaurs!

How could you not laugh? Like when, standing on the bow of the ship, Jock sweet talks Alice Pennywhistle about the rolling waves, the clear blue sky, the fresh sea air, and then... he suddenly pukes for a great length of time. Or when Smunk, after also trying to sweet talk Alice and then being told by Alice that she's a lesbian, responds with "No-no, I think women have got as much right to be lesbians as men have." Or when Smalls confessed that he was fired from Oxford because they claimed he "stuffed and mounted a badger in an improper manner." And then he added, "I'd only taken off my trousers to avoid getting linseed oil on them." Or when Alice, the lesbian, said, "what a queer chap." Or the bit about Barry "Fingers" Maginty (who had to change his name to Barry "Arms" Maginty because he lost his fingers in a card game and then he had to change his name to Barry "Legs" Maginty because...) Or the bit about the "swamp hens" ("What do they do?" "Peck mostly.") Or the bit about the "swamp duck" when Smalls goes off screen to kill this little duck, we hear him SCREAM, there's a BANG from his gun, and he runs wildly back to the group with his clothes torn screaming "RUN!" And then, behind him emerges an angry seven-foot duck. Or the great visual gag of the entire group climbing up a tree to escape certain death by a certain big duck only for the tree to immediately fall over and they have to start running again. Or when they come across a rippling puddle (a la "Jurassic Park") and Smalls asks, "What is it, Professor?" who responds with, "Hmm, some kind of rare jumping puddle." Or when Alice says to Smunk, "I know this is going to sound awfully silly, but... I'm afraid of the dark. Would you mind terribly if I slept with you?" Later, she tells Smunk, "Um... Timothy, you... um... seem to be poking me in the thigh." And then, of course, Smunk removes his stuffed albatross. Or after being chased by voluptuous cave women, Alice, the lesbian, says, "I hope we run into some more cave women." Bathandler replies, "Be careful what you wish for, Ms. Pennywhistle. For all we know, these women are cannibals. You may find out that all they want to do is eat you." And suddenly, Alice blushes.

On Dracula is Out of His Box!

"Evil? Ha! I'll tell you what you are, mate, you're a bloody tease, that's what you are. You sweep about with your cloak and your penetrating gaze, all mean and moody. Then when a woman asks you to flap about in her belfry, you're all, 'Sorry, love, I've got to destroy humanity...' Penetrating gaze... That's the only part of you that is penetrating."
- The virginal Petrolia, before certain death.

You know you're in for a good time when Dracula is talking to a Real Estate Agent and he's reading from a "Transylvania / Cockney Phrase Book" and after being invited inside the big scary castle, he says in his thick Transylvanian accent, "That would be... (checks book) ...smashing." Or when Dracula says to his group of vampire children, "the next stage of our plan requires the greatest subtlety..." and then one of the vampires farts. Or when Prat asks, "Do you have a crystal ball?" Bathandler replies, "That's between me and my gynecologist." Or when Flinch talked about his fiance's abductors, "Witnesses said they were very pale and had big, pointy teeth." Bathandler: "So definitely British then." Or when Dracula tells Flinch's abducted fiance, Petrolia, "I am looking for a virgin," and she replies, "Aren't we all..." Or when Watt says, "Please don't poke my octopus." Or when Queen Victoria said, "No, I said it was a cunning stunt!" Or when Jenkins had finally transformed into a vampire and just as he is about to bite Shaw, Bathandler storms into the room and shoots him. "How did you know?" Shaw asked. "Know what?" Bathandler replied. "I just found out he's been sleeping with my sister."

And finally, The Moon Must Die!

"The Moon Must Die!" is my favorite of Ger's three works of comedy. I don't have any specific reasons either. It's just the spirit of the piece, I think. It's the way the comedy clicks so well after the team reunites, and the humor really soars at times. It's the way every line of dialogue is funny in a very character specific sort of way. It's the way the characters have very distinct voices and individual thought processes. It's like a musician sitting down at a piano and picking up right where he left off on a very difficult whimsical tune and seemingly plays it so effortlessly (although we really know better).

I love the washroom scene on page 21. The team is getting ready for bed the night before the big launch, and they're all using this one washroom. First, you have throughout this scene the unknown person sitting in a stall making outrageous farting noises. This person has the worst case of runaway gas, right? Then you have the team going about its business in the washroom brushing their teeth, politely talking to each other, etc, without even acknowledging the uncontrollable flatulence going on behind them. Third, you have the hilarious interaction between the characters: Captain Jack explaining how he got tricked into this by being told he had won a publishing clearance house draw and ("I stepped off the boat expecting a cheque the size of a surfboard and some jerkwad shoved a bag over my head"); then Captain Jack had the audacity to putdown Smunk when he explained how HE got tricked into this ("I got a letter inviting me to the Suffragatte and Lesbian Pride of Britain Awards. They said I'd been nominated for best newcomer") to which Captain Jack snorts and says, "Jerk"; oh, there was Smalls' out of control spasm with his new metal arms and also Jock's mysterious hatred of Smunk ("Oh no, I love you. I love you like the pox that killed my mother."). And lastly, of course, there was the great ending to the scene where we discover who it was in the stall with all that crazy gas. It was the LAST person you'd expect – Alice Pennywhistle.

"I wouldn't go in there for a bit," she says.