Thank God I Finally Saw Synecdoche, New York
Those who know me and my fascination with movies know my appreciation for Charlie Kaufman. As a writer of some of my favorite movies of all time, including my all time favorite, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, he has an ability to create movies with compelling stories that are often hard to get your mind around.
Synecdoche, New York came out last fall and I was pretty sad that I missed it once it came (and quickly left) Washington, DC. Last night however, that was all in the past as it arrived from Netflix and I sat down and watched it last night.
While it’s not a perfect movie, I’d still go on record saying that I did think it was a pretty darn good one. As it struggles with theme of mortality and self awareness, there is a particular scene in which a Minister is giving a speech at a funeral. His monologue was one of my favorite parts. I’m sharing it now in hopes that if you haven’t seen this movie, you maybe give it a shot:
“Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won’t know for twenty years. And you’ll never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it’s what you create. Even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but doesn’t really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope for something good to come along. Something to make you feel connected, to make you feel whole, to make you feel loved. And the truth is I’m so angry and the truth is I’m so fucking sad, and the truth is I’ve been so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long have been pretending I’m OK, just to get along, just for, I don’t know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own, and their own is too overwhelming to allow them to listen to or care about mine. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.”