I saw this film last night.
It's interesting reading this thread afterwards. A fair bit of it seems to have focused on an argument about the British not appreciating art thanks to their needless categorisation of things into highbrow/lowbrow.
Somewhat ironically, as a result, there is very little actual discussion of the film.
Maybe that tells you most of what you need to know about the British cultural experience.
But, yeah, on to the film. First things first, it was flabby, overlong, not particularly interesting to look at, marred through most of the second half by an, possibly deliberate (though for no clear reason), obscufating score and ultimately glib.
The acting was OK. Only Samantha Morton and Michelle Williams really shone.
Phillip Seymour-Hoffman looked again to be on cruise control, which was problematic given that the flatness of his performance was at the centre of the film. The rest were largely unremarkable.
I suspect this problem with the acting may have a fair deal to do with the actual writing itself.
Kaufman set himself a huge challenge in producing a work about the act of representation through artistic work in so far as any room for character development was always going to be heavily circumscribed by the simulacristic (is that a word?) environment in which he chose to operate.
So should he get the benefit of the doubt for this...for the bravery to explore something new and challenging that ultimately capsized any attempt at entertainment?
No, is my answer, but ultimately it will be a matter of personal preference.
The larger environmental problem with characterisation was also present in the inability to provide a narrative, or rather, the lack of courage and originality that Kaufman demonstrated by coming up with a compromised solution of having the narrative framed by the main character's life.
With all the nods to mortality, it just felt like an easy, stale, default solution.
Either he should have been bolder and done away with linear narrative conventions altogether or he should have actually been arsed to come up with some kind of supervening plot structure.
I thought that here was the key to why the whole thing felt like it had fallen short by some distance.
Kaufman was focused so heavily on the concept of synecdoche and the impossibility or, intrinsic unreliability, of artistic and even everyday representation as a result of synedoche that he missed two other major strands of artistic work - characterisation and narrative.
And quite simply, a film that does away with the substance of characterisation and narrative while retaining their empty husks is a bodged compromise which fails to fulfill its most fundamental function - to entertain.
So a round of applause for the effort maybe, but certainly none for the end result.
In the same way that Waterworld should not be celebrated merely because a large amount of money and technical effort was expended upon it, arthouse cinema should not be treated as virtuous purely for being ambitious.
It must tick all the other boxes demanded of all films. Unfortunately, it didn't.