Synecdoche, New York: If you'll allow me to self-indulge

I am a big fan of Charlie Kaufman's. I think that his scripts are amongst the most original out there and I have always enjoyed his prior films (particularly the romantic, funny and overall lovely Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind - one of my all time favorite films). I haven't even minded in the past when the films have drifted into self-commentary (Adaptation starring Nicolas Cage as Charlie Kaufman). Yes, Kaufman is clearly a miserable sort but at least he is able to keep some levity and hope alive.

Until now. The cast in Synecdoche, New York reads like a dream and they do their best to add some life but the film is just so bogged down in death and misery that you want to slit your wrists when it's all over. Acting as both writer and director, there is no one to check Kaufman's most morose impulses and thus everyone in the film keeps slowly suffering and making their way towards death until inevitably they get there. Philip Seymor Hoffman's Cadan spends the entire film trying to make a serious theater piece but all his piece does is allow him to indulge and relive his most miserable obsessions and woes over and over again. The nature of the piece and the characters playing characters playing characters is somewhat interesting but it is hard to stay engaged where there is all misery and no hope.

I sincerely hope that Kaufman continues to keep writing scripts but please don't let him direct.