Elliptical

Despite having literally returned from seeing I Love You, Phillip Morris, I've had a movie stuck in my head since viewing it last night that must take precedence over it. It's no secret that I am not a fan of films normally labelled 'twee', and despite being a fan of the author's other work, I immediately dismissed this as pretentious nonsense. Finally, last night I was persuaded to sit down and watch it. The film was a bit of an eye opener.

Synecdoche, New York (2008, Likely Story)

The story of Caden Cotard was something that I thought I had figured out long before I saw the film. After all, as an English teacher, I knew what synecdoche was (and how to pronounce it!) So I must have had an advantage on the audience.

Fast forward to roughly 11:45pm last night, when I turned to my girlfriend and uttered the following (word for word):

"I like it. But I don't know what happened."

The next thirty minutes were spent delving into the murky world of the internet, frantically searching for something to hang upon the film as the documented truth. 

First mistake. It's not there.

Primarily, what Synecdoche has done is thoroughly put me in my place. Because of my background, having studied Film and TV theory at Glasgow University, the past few years have had me living my life as a 'oh my, I am definitive in my knowledge of film, aren't I?' Last night's viewing made me realise that in terms of a wider film knowledge, I really know nothing. I understand how narratives are constructed, but when these are played with, I'm as clueless as the rest of the audience. So before I continue, let me say thank you to those internet bloggers out there with a great deal more knowledge on (particularly) psychology than myself, and I apologise for plundering their work and posting it on here.

So, it turns out that Caden is a narcissitic hypochondriac. Because of Kaufman's insistence of downlplaying many aspects, keeping homes looking like homes, and having real problems worry his characters, the film inititally sets its stall out as 'REAL.' Of course, the minute a camera lens it pointed at a subject, the truth disappears. News reports can be distorted, representations of interview subjects through positioning, lighting and costume can change the nature of their words. Kaufman is more than aware of this. The world of Cotard's New York is no more authentic than that of Peter Parker's. Cotard, as the protagonist views the world in his own insular, self-centered view. This means that his 'illnesses' are literalised upon the screen for the viewer, perhaps creating a false sense of sympathy. 

It is only when the film shows one of Cotard's lovers, Hazel, buying a new house that something is flagged as wrong. The house is on fire, you see. And Hazel is aware of this. By buying the place, and being aware of her own mortality, Hazel is setting herself out as a contrast from Cotard. Whilst he is trying to fight his own death, she is willingly accepting it, and as such, has become more human. Kaufman uses the mise-en-scene of the characters' houses to literally show their condition. In hindsight, it is far more obvious why Cotard's sink breaks, injuring him. This is not a 'real world incident', it is the film itself punishing him. The 'real world' falling into conflict? Cotard fighting with his own mortality, his brief time on the planet, wanting to triumph. 

Without spoiling the rest of the film, it is clear that Kaufman either relishes or struggles with the difference between a filmic life and real life. In Adaptation, he placed 'himself' into the film, and credited it as by himself and his fictional twin brother. Here, Cotard's Simulacrum play becomes real life, or real life is upstaged by it. Or something. It's never quite clear what's going on, nor is it meant to be. 

So what is the message?

Ironically, the true meaning, or message, or point of the film is an explicit part of the Simulacrum world (Kaufman explicitly shows the sprinklers creating 'rain' during it.) As a fictional oration to a 'real-life' death, it is the most explicit, manipulative, cinematic part of the film (Gospel choirs anchoring this as 'SERIOUS'). It all becomes clear that this is one merry jape. But wait, what's that... Cotard is a SYNDROME, as well as a name. Right, what does Wikipedia make of this?

The Cotard delusion or Cotard's syndrome, also known as nihilistic or negation delusion, is a rare neuropsychiatric disorded in which a person holds a delusional belief that they are dead (either figuratively or literally), do not exist, are putrefying, or have lost their blood or internal organs. Rarely, it can include delusions of immortality^.

The link to Caden cannot be more specific. And that buzzer saying 'Capgras'? What an odd name. Wait...

The Capgras delusion (or Capgras syndrome) is a disorder in which a person holds a delusion that a friend, spouse, parent or other close family member, has been replaced by an identical-looking impostor.

This IS Simulacrum. 

It gets confusing. Is Kaufman opening his soul, projecting his own real fears upon the film and Cotard - who claims he wants to make something fantastic before he dies. He is as much an artist as Kaufman, someone obsessed with getting the right representation of 'life' onscreen. Or is this once more all part of the joke?

To be honest, I don't think I am in the right profession to offer any answers to this. Ironically, the best person to answer the question may be the most comical in the film, Hope Davis' Madeline Gravis. This is less a film, than a psychological treatise.

Or is it? 

Aaargh. You win, Kaufman.