Charlie Kaufman loves to examine the uneasy anxieties that are at the core of human existence. His films, ranging from the romantically morbid animation of “Anomalisa” to the philosophical musings of “Synecdoche, NY,” are heavily derived from the 20th-century stage plays Kaufman has been influenced by. In his latest pseudo-intellectual Dostoyevskian “romp,” Kaufman dares us to leap into the wild blue again with him in the weirdest, most obsessively personal Netflix original movie I have ever seen.
“I’m Thinking of Ending Things” can be seen as a sort of companion piece to ‘Synecdoche,’ but whether that's a good or bad thing will depend entirely on the viewer. This is another formally daring, whimsical, and glacially-paced film from Kaufman. The passion behind this latest jaunt into the meta abyss feels, at times, too elusive for its own good, and this despite the excellent turns from its actors.
Clocking in at a ballsy 135 minutes, from its very first frame, Kaufman thrusts us into the psyche of Louisa (Jessie Buckley), a young woman having second thoughts about her relationship with new boyfriend Jake (Jesse Plemons), but still, agreeing to take a snowy road trip down to meet the parents down at his family farm. Along the way, they engage in a nearly 45-minute conversation about the most mundane of things, Kaufman makes sure we hear Lucia repeat the words i’m thinking of ending things” — suffice to say, Jake bores her and she doesn’t know how to nix the relationship without hurting this genuinely nice guy she met just a few weeks ago.
Louisa and Jake arrive at their destination, only to then be trapped at the remote farm due to a snowstorm. It doesn’t help that Jake’s mother (a playfully outrageous Toni Collette) and father (David Thewlis), are eccentric, awkward, and downright strange. Collette, playing against type here, is a hoot, using every gesture to convey a tortured soul. Meanwhile, Lucia begins to question the nature of everything she knows or understands about Jake, even wondering if she, herself, is the product of the problems she accuses him of. It all eventually spirals into an amalgam of Kaufman-esque ambiguousness, as the narrative starts to slowly but surely crumble into delirium and we have to figure out what is dream and what is reality or even if the entire thing is just part of the imagined psyche of some random old high school janitor.
Kaufman’s splattered anxieties in the first hour suddenly shift in tone and linearity during its bewildered second half — roles and personalities switch gears, Louisa is now called Lucia, Jake’s parents rapidly age, the characters’ ids suddenly change and the ultimate nightmare is upon us. “We think we pass through time, but time passes through us,” Louisa mockingly says with a wink, a line clearly intended for us — it briefly explains the mindset of most Kaufman-directed film: Life is meaningless and then you die. Pass it along. What a hoot this guy must be at a party.
Loosely based on Ian Reid’s novella of the same name, “I’m Thinking of Ending Things” has the same flaws I’ve had with Kaufman since ‘Synecdoche,’ his directorial debut. It’s personal filmmaking, but to the nth degree — personal, vague, opaque. Despite admiring the sprawl and scope of Kaufman’s ambitions, his personal obsessions tend to isolate and take me out of the story. He keeps making films as a form of self-therapy, but the viewer ends up being left out at a greater distance. I couldn’t care less about Kaufman’s neuroses, except that I don’t want any part in them. He keeps recycling pathological compulsions that aren’t necessarily relatable, let alone redeemable.
You can admire the intelligence and craft that went into making this statement, a frustratingly oblique and scattershot attempt at some kind of therapeutic redemption on the part of Kaufman. Much like I attempted to do with ‘Synechdoce, I could give “I’m Think About Ending Things” another shot, most likely when I’m in the mindset to absorb this kind of didactically pretentious film, but I wouldn’t hold my breath for a change of course, this is the kind of film that is purposely meant to be an excruciating experience for the viewer, all for the sake of art. It’s a 135-minute movie filled with a general sense of philosophical disdain at existence. Kaufman enthusiasts will eat it up. [D]
I don’t know about you, but I’m kind of looking forward to the “Michael” sequel. Whether Vantoine directs it or John Logan, it doesn’t matter—it’s an inevitable sh*tshow that will result from its making and release.