"Synecdoche, New York" is one of the most depressing movies I've seen in a long time -- we're talking anything Bergman to the 10th power -- therefore I recommend it wholeheartedly. Bleak and pretty brilliant.
I saw it about a month ago and initially shrugged. After writing about it, though, I learned my feelings ran deeper. It's playing at the Robinson Film Center.
It's the anti-Christmas. Have fun!
But seriously, see it. It's as purely cinematic as movies get. You couldn't tell this story through any other medium.
It's no secret to my friends -- hey, I count at least two -- that I love a good downer. Why? I have my theories. So does my imaginary shrink. Here are the top five:
5) It's evidence that I'm happier than somebody on Planet Earth.
4) I'm an enigma wrapped in shadow lost in confusion.
3) I'm obsessed with books and movies about self.
2) Sad movies are sources of existential renewal.
1) In the words of Le Frog from "Flushed Away," "I find everyone's pain amusing, except my own ... I'm French!"
I'm actually German and therefore have deep misgivings about Le Frog. That's why he's 100% right about me.