an open letter to Charlie Kaufman

Dear Charlie Kaufman,

Your movie sucked.

Listen, I appreciate complex, layered, modern films. I've watched, re-watched, mused over and enjoyed many of David Lynch's movies. I clapped in delight when frogs began falling from the sky in Magnolia. I am not afraid of ambiguity, absurdity, or complexity.

So I was really looking forward to seeing your most recent film, Synecdoche, New York. In fact, I was practically shivering with anticipation as I entered the theatre on Saturday night. My friend Shannan was with me. She is working on a Ph.D., and she teaches film theory at Emory University. (You would like her. She is very smart.)

The theatre darkened. The movie started. The details unfolded, one after another. With such care I noted them. The calendars on the wall, the dates on the newspaper. I am watching! I am feeling! I am caring! But there was no reason to care. The movie fell apart so quickly. Yet it it died very slowly. It was extremely painful to watch.

I saw a blimp flying through a warehouse, a child walking down the street in Halloween garb, a house perpetually engulfed in flames. What I did not find was a compelling story, a heart, a reason to keep watching.

As the closing credits rolled, I looked over at Shannan with a pained expression. I half-figured she would say, "How interesting! I really enjoyed that. The metaphor of the burning house was so rich!"

Instead, she just said, "That was awful."

We went back to her house and watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, just to rinse away the terrible taste of Synecdoche. Charlie, when Eternal Sunshine is the pink cupcake served at the end of a long, difficult meal, you have truly dined at a bitter table.

I wanted to see this movie because I wanted to be reminded of what I enjoy about movies -- your movies in particular. I love how they feel both huge and deeply intimate. I love their complexity. I love how they are bleak and hopeful and funny and tragic all at the same time. I wanted to see the piece I had read about in Manohla Dargis' review of Synecdoche, New York: a film "about the struggle to make your mark in a world filled with people who are more gifted, beautiful, glamorous and desirable than the rest of us." Charlie, that's a theme I can connect with. But I'm still waiting for you to make that movie. This was not it. This was a movie about headwounds, depression, pustules, fire, suicide, and an extremely uncomfortable striptease by a daughter for her father.

Do better next time! Please!
Romanlily

p.s. For real. If I really needed to see that many shots of poop sinking to the bottom of filthy toilets, I'm sure there are underground internet groups that cater to that kind of thing.