Like the Plague
Courtesy of The New York Observer's Rex Reed, ""No matter how bad you think the worst movie ever made ever was, you have not seen Synecdoche, New York. It sinks to the ultimate bottom of the landfill, and the smell threatens to linger from here to infinity".
I agree. My wife does as well. I usually dislike the outrageously overrated cinematic output of Charlie Kaufman (except Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, not a favorite of mine (though a favorite of my wife), but a notable film). However, while watching Synecdoche, New York, I was reminded of everything about movies, art, and things in general I hate.
Namely: getting dropped into something in which it is assumed I already love, care for, and know the characters in the work(because the writer does and assumes I do, too) and forced to wade through sewer after sewer of wasted time with said characters only to have trite, simplistic lessons, the likes of which could better be conveyed by looking at a clock for 124 minutes, shoved down my throat to rising, patronizing, syrupydramatic strings.
A. No, I don't care about your characters, especially when they lack the simple quality of acting like non-loathable human beings. I also don't know them because you have spent more time wallowing in excremental philosophic meanderings then actually developing them.
B. If I am going to wade through filth, I want a shower and some pudding afterward.
C. That is 124 minutes of my life I am never going to get back. I could have read an US Weekly and gleaned more perception on the plight of the human condition.
Thank you and have a good night!
I agree. My wife does as well. I usually dislike the outrageously overrated cinematic output of Charlie Kaufman (except Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, not a favorite of mine (though a favorite of my wife), but a notable film). However, while watching Synecdoche, New York, I was reminded of everything about movies, art, and things in general I hate.
Namely: getting dropped into something in which it is assumed I already love, care for, and know the characters in the work(because the writer does and assumes I do, too) and forced to wade through sewer after sewer of wasted time with said characters only to have trite, simplistic lessons, the likes of which could better be conveyed by looking at a clock for 124 minutes, shoved down my throat to rising, patronizing, syrupydramatic strings.
A. No, I don't care about your characters, especially when they lack the simple quality of acting like non-loathable human beings. I also don't know them because you have spent more time wallowing in excremental philosophic meanderings then actually developing them.
B. If I am going to wade through filth, I want a shower and some pudding afterward.
C. That is 124 minutes of my life I am never going to get back. I could have read an US Weekly and gleaned more perception on the plight of the human condition.
Thank you and have a good night!
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