Synecdoche, New York (2008) – Usually, art about art (books about writers, movies about actors, et cetera) pisses me off. I feel like if I wanted to see the inside of Aaron Sorkin’s rectum, I’d be a celebrity proctologist instead of watching “Studio 60”, for example, but this movie has wrapped around so far and not only gone up its own ass, it’s gone up its ass’s ass.
And while it defies thorough analysis on a single viewing, I at least get the impression that there are things to understand that I’m just not quite getting yet. In this respect, it is infinitely more watchable than, say, Inland Empire.
For those wondering, I still love Charlie Kaufman to pieces.