Synecdoche, New York: A Modern Hamlet (Highfalutin Warbling)

...and speaking of the ouroboros, I saw Synecdoche, New York, a new movie written and directed by Charlie Kaufman. It's the story of a theater director, Caden Cotard, played by Philip Seymour Hoffman, who dedicates his life to producing one monumental story that he hopes will make his existence worth while: the story of his life.

(I've attempted to avoid any spoilers, but read on at your own risk.)

With the usual dose of Kaufmanesque irony and circularity, Caden's friends and family become characters in the play, and the actors who play those characters become his friends and family, and so on and so on until a comic pitch is achieved. Almost immediately, managing the production of his play becomes as impossible as the management his own life with characters, relationships, and sets becoming a confused mess that sprawls out into the streets of New York. Unlike some of Kaufman's other movies, however, the plot itself is relatively easy to follow. (In fact, describing the storyline--at least my summary--is probably more confusing than the plot itself.) Is it puzzling? Yes. Utterly ridiculous at moments? Sure. Baffling? Absolutely. At times I wondered, "Is this going to end up being a 2-hour joke on the audience?" And you could certainly make the argument that it is. But what makes Synecdoche, New York, so compelling and, I would argue, touching, despite sporadic outright lunacy, is the way in which it holds the mirror up to nature and to life.

One of the reasons Hamlet has always been a darling of art and literature is Shakespeare's use of metatheatricality--the play within a play device. Hamlet constantly feigns whatever emotion or disposition he thinks will allow him to extract information from the other characters and lead him to the murderer of his father. Madness, sincerity, love, cruelty--Hamlet is a master player. Like Hamlet, Caden becomes so consumed by the need to "play" and "direct" that the line between reality and the production becomes obscured. Shakespeare often revisited the theme of appearance versus reality and the metaphor of life as a play, most famously in the words of Jacques in As You Like It:

"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages."
Act 2, scene 7, 139-143

Not only does Caden "play many parts"--father, son, husband, player, director--but he witnesses and reenacts every major and minor tragedy in his life. In doing so, he allows history to repeat itself over and over again and never truly moves on. And, although Kaufman tempers each tragedy with a half-cocked wink at the audience, as layer upon layer and stage upon stage is built, Caden is never able to get it quite right. He fixates on every minor detail so much so that he is unable to enjoy or appreciate any small pleasure in his life at the present.

Throughout the movie, Kaufman peppers in moments that can only be described as touchstones of the audience's faith. Challenges almost. "If you're willing to laugh at this, maybe I can take it a bit further." But the world Kaufman, and ultimately Caden, creates is one that requires at least a passive disbelief. "Of course none of this could ever happen, but wouldn't it be horrible/wonderful if it did?" I suppose what Kaufman may be trying to say is that there are certain aspects of life that don't make sense, that we don't have control over, but we inevitably have to accept. And maybe finding a way to appreciate the chaos of life is what keeps the sane sane, and the rest teetering on a razor's edge.

The fact that every person in Caden's life becomes a character in the play underscores that fact that we often wish we could play the directors of our pasts. If only I would have done this instead, if only I'd said this, if only. The truth of the matter is that we have to make the best decision we know how at the time and only in a perfect world could we go back and replay each scene. But in doing so, would we ever really move forward? For Caden, the answer is no. As time becomes Caden's enemy, he loses control of his own actions and becomes an observer of his own life, rather than the director.

I think Synecdoche, New York, can be interpreted two very different ways. One way, the cynical viewpoint in which the play and stage are nothing more than black-barred cages, echoes the thoughts of Shakespeare's Macbeth:

"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5, 19-28

But I prefer to think that Kaufman means for Synecdoche, New York, to serve as a cautionary tale against that mindset. That every player has his mark and his lines and his worth to the story as a whole and that the oddities of the play, the happy and not-so-happy accidents, are what keep it interesting. I think Kaufman wants us to realize that, as in the movie, life's tribulations are often mollified by simple pleasures. Like Hamlet, Caden's play ultimately brings his demise, but not before he realizes the time he spent looking back was wasted and could have been better dedicated to the wonderful, the sad, the funny, the horrible, the touching, of the present.