Synecdoche, New York

In Charlie Kaufman's directorial debut, Philip Seymour Hoffman plays Caden Cotard, a theatre director in Schenectady, New York, who eventually moves to the city itself. It starts with him listening to a radio program about how poets and novelists have often written about autumn, and it soon becomes evident that this is what Synecdoche, New York is about too. It is a masterpiece of the humour and surreal touches that we have become familiar with from Kaufman's earlier films (albeit directed by others). If you don't like that sense of humour, you won't like this film. It is essentially the same character from Being John Malkovich and Adaptation, just a little older: a man who enters a world too complicated for him. Yet it goes further than either of these, and I liked it more. It troubles our sense of identity, showing life as lived in the mind, rather than reality. Cotard wins the McArthur 'Genius' Grant, and sets about directing a play about death, but essentially about his own life. He fills an entire warehouse with actors, recreating scenes from his life, and elsewhere: this is the magnitude of the task, and it says something about the complexity of the human mind too. Of course, his project is never ready, never has a title, and never sees an audience. As the film goes on, the self-references would be perhaps too much for some. You begin to forget what is real and what is acted, who is playing who, and when. Years pass without him realising. It becomes slightly rambling, and perhaps it is ultimately fruitless, but maybe that's the idea. Is Kaufman merely repeating himself, or is he heading towards a masterpiece? Is this it? It might be. It's hilarious and disturbing, and one of the best films from last year. Unmissable.