I slept on it, but it still feels like quite unsettling and long-forgotten life-changing experience from watching latest Charlie Kaufman's film. It's not like this film felt close to home, it's more like it dipped its paw right into my brain and turned it all over. Blinking beacon lights of cultural cross-references (Harold Pinter, Kafka's "Trial) didn't help. I could compare this to some Frankenstein-like bastard of Woody Allen and Roy Anderson on LSD doing some devastating self-analysis and coming up with some really bad news. Saying the ultimate. I can not recommend this movie to those with fear of dying. It's not like they living in parallel universes but thought that Philip Seymour Hoffman's performance will not secure him Oscar or whanever recognition for his role is mind-boggling. But so is everything about this movie, it's the pinnacle of everything Charlie Kaufman ever did and really complete and holistic work to boot. One more thing about parallel universes: Russian film distributors (themselves not really averse to mind-fuckery - see, they gave Public Enemies with Depp a new name "Johnny D.") gave it (not-very-)new name - "New York, New York". It's easy to see why they did it, but it's too wrong, it kills all Kaufman's self-deprecation about not being able to give his work a proper title (see Eternal Sunshine of Spotless Mind) and there's no way it will help film make some money over here - Scorcese's movie of the same name wasn't really box-office smash, and only handful of movie-buffs know it round here, anyway. Now I'm depressed, just like you.
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