Pseudo review of the movie Synecdoch, New York by Charlie Kaufman
Oh, it weighed heavy on my conscience having recently gone to the cinema. It’s just not something I do. It’s like youth, and it’s a good thing that it’s gotten away from me. But I did it and there is a price to pay. Subsequently I was compelled to find something spectacular to bring me back (to reality). To pay the piper, they say. Oh, how I yearn for a world where creativity is at the forefront of every (dirty) deed – as opposed to the status quo conservative world of living in the past we are all (de)faced with now. But enough about me.
Today we’re going to worstwrite about the brilliant writer Charlie Kaufman and the wonders of Crémant. Was in a store a few weeks back and the DVD of “Synecdoche, New York” was available for some ungodly cheap price. This is the usual way I consume movies these days: cheap DVDs and retailer supply surplus nightmares. In most stores here in z’Germanland they usually put a krapp-load of DVDs into a crate and the all-knowing consumer has to sift through it. Attached to the crate is a sign that reads “DVD ab 4,99”. I have long since realized that what they actually throw into these crates are no more than four or five different movies but there is such a huge and abundant unsold supply of them that people will stand there sifting through the crate and never wondering why they keep finding the same film. What they don’t get is that there is never a DVD in the crate for the price advertised. But that’s neither here nor there. Usually I pass these crates because I have already seen Brides From Hell, Part IV or Return of the Martian Females, Part VI. But as I was passing by a crate on this particular procrastinating day something spoke to me. Or should I say… something made its presence known to me. I mean, Synecdoche is a strange title and since I’m attracted to letters and words more than images and pictures, it’s no wonder that this particular title spoke to me and Wife-Zilla’s Return, Part II did not.
Now, here’s the thing. It took a ridiculous price to get me to buy “Being John Malkovic” so I went ahead and splurged once again and gave up my 3,99. But let’s look at something more important than just price, shall we? (Shame Amazon, to the right, can’t match what I paid, eh?) My guess is, the DVD of Synecdoche was thrown into this B-movie crate by a cynic. For I soon discovered, as I waddled through the store to get to the cash register — and this has to have something to do with the psychology of association — there was another special offering of artsy-farsty films all under 5,99 in the another part of the store. Of course, the artsy-fartsy stuff, the stuff that might make people think (I know, I’m being high-brow, but what the heck!), was in the back, in a dark corner, creativity is relegated to obscurity. So I hope I’m making this clear. If this DVD wouldn’t have been in the wrong place — if it weren’t put there by someone who was trying to make a statement — if it were in the place that the others of its kind were, then I would have missed it. For I am, at this point in life, immune to advertising of all kinds and I usually only go to stores if 1) she makes me, and 2) I know exactly what I’m going there to get. (On this day I was in need of a coax cable.) Although I cannot empirically prove it, there is some truth that this DVD, in the wrong crate, communicated with me — and perhaps even knew that I would need it after seeing the new Snow White movie. So I bought and added another Charlie Kaufmann film to my collection titled: “non brain-dead movies”.
Eventually I ripped the DVD, put into my iTunes library and got caught up in doing something else, which included a few days of worstwriting, fighting with my website and concerned that my son is overly preoccupied with the erdbeermund of the chick who plays Snow White. Even though all these other activities prevented me from immediately viewing Synecdoche there was something else that compelled me to wait for the right moment. After viewing the new Snow White (mis)interoperation it was time to purge my innards of being exposed to too much anti-creative-ness. Yet, even after that it took a few more days to get to Synecdoche. Obviously what we’re dealing with here, dear worst-reader, is the problem of submission and not admission. How easy it is to juice yourself up with what’s required to go to the cinema and watch pop movie making. But to do the same with the brilliance of all things creative? Luckily on this particular evening, my better-half was open to me suggesting what film we should watch. So I gathered the perfectly chilled bottle of Crémant, a few snacks of black olives, dried tomatoes, crackers and viola!
It didn’t take long before the main question was asked: Is this an artsy-fartsy movie? Indeed, it is my dear. So I poured her another glass of Crémant du Jura, offered that we watch the new Sherlock Holmes movie (that gets my thumbs up only because of the director!) Luckily (for me) she noticed my enthusiasm for Kaufman, so we continued with what we had begun. For you see, there is no other living writer today that makes me love and hate writing more than Charlie Kaufman. He makes me love writing because of the movies he’s written. He makes me hate writing because of the movies he’s written. Whenever I watch a Charlie Kaufman movie it takes me days to once again sit down at my desk and start hammering away. The whole time I’m thinking: there is only one writer worthy of writing; the man is so brilliant in his carving out of proverbial stone idears and words that it makes me cringe — but cringe in a good way. Being humbled every once ‘a’ once is also a good thing. It’s good to walk the earth with feet firmly planted. Thank you, Charlie Kaufman. And thank you to France for coming up with such a brilliant (and affordable) alternative to Champagne. After my dearest had her second glass of Crémant she fell asleep and I could continue watching the brilliance unfold while nibbling for hours on one black olive.
- Cremant – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Whole wiki article is on sparkling wine.
- Association (psychology) – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
- Charlie Kaufman – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia