Synecdoche, New York

Kaufman, who once dazzled us with his japester's invention, uses those same tools to do something else here. He leaves us reeling.

This is a classic Kaufmanesque work: bold, bizarre and utterly baffling.

Synecdoche, New York finally feels bitter, hollow and adolescent: like a gargantuan music video conceived for an emo band with a penchant for Pirandello.

Synecdoche (pronounced Sih-neck-doh-kee, by the way) is beautifully acted throughout, scripted by Kaufman with the same valorous unorthodoxy as his Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and shot with real panache.

Somehow, because it resists unlocking, it feels more serious, troubling, significant. It's as funny as it's depressing. It's as brilliant as it is baffling.

A melancholic, absurd exploration of obsession, loneliness, ego and the extremes of the creative process. [Full review in Spanish]

Synecdoche, New York aches with sentiments on a life (and indeed all life) not fully lived and overly focused on analysis and reflection, offering rich commentary on remorse and alienation.

This takes the notion of life as merely one sprawling play and literalizes it.

Episode 43: The New World / Synecdoche, New York / L'Avventura