The Spike Jonze/Charlie Kaufman opus Adaptation begins with a reference to the previous Jonze/Kaufman opus Being John Malkovich: We're on the set of BJM, and there's Kaufman (played by Nicolas Cage) looking lost and miserable, and there's John Cusack acting like Charlie isn't alive, and Catherine Keener not giving Charlie the time of day, and John Malkovich himself saying something pithy and Malkovichian. What we're meant to think, of course, is how hip it is to start a movie with a reference to your last movie; and later when we're introduced to Kaufman's creative woes we're meant to think how Felliniesque it is to write a script about yourself writing a script (at least Fellini waited until his eighth-and-a-half film to descend completely into self-reference and -reverence). And still later, when Kaufman openly admits being narcissistic and self-indulgent, we're supposed to give him points for honesty, as if this pre-emptive apology excused him from being narcissistic and self-indulgent. Pardon me if I seem less-than-impressed.
I wasn't impressed by Being John Malkovich either; it struck me as affected and aimless, a stunt propped up by dashes of sincerity. I appreciated the movie's dry sense of humor, and Catherine Keener's devastating portrayal of a sarcastic super-witch, but I thought there was too much knowing self-effacement in the way Kaufman and Jonze deconstructed the modern male (i.e. themselves). The self-deprecation is even more pungent in Adaptation; Nicolas Cage's Charlie Kaufman is an overweight, balding forty-year-old who sweats profusely in the presence of women, and Kaufman the writer misses few opportunities to humiliate Kaufman the character, to complain about what miserable wretches both are. Furthering the solipsistic agenda, Kaufman includes the fictional character of his brother Donald, also played by Cage, who is Charlie's diametric opposite, a self-assured ladies'-man with a sense of humor about himself. Donald begins working on his own screenplay, and to Charlie's dismay shows a proficiency for the kind of commercial writing Charlie himself pretends to despise but is actually envious of. This gives Kaufman an excuse to lecture us; Donald becomes the means by which he criticizes the small-mindedness of Hollywood producers, agents, etc., His portrayal of Donald is affectionate though, and he can't bring himself to take a real artistic stand. Charlie Kaufman, the wishy-washy genius.
Kaufman and Jonze are fascinated with the absurdity of being a man; in BJM they eviscerated John Cusack's character, portrayed Malkovich as a sex-crazed egomaniac, and concluded that the only solution for Catherine Keener and Cameron Diaz was to become lesbians. In Adaptation they try branching out a little by including a female character who's as screwed-up as the men. Her name is Sue Orlean, the New Yorker writer whose book Charlie is torturing himself trying to adapt, and she's played by Meryl Streep as a dissatisfied intellectual taken in by the charms of the dirt-bag professional flower-thief who's the subject of her best-selling tome. Charlie falls in love with Sue through her book, and Sue leaves her ineffectual husband for Laroche the flower-man who shows her the secret to happiness (hint: you snort it). The story-within-a-story structure is pleasingly unique for awhile, but it quickly becomes apparent that Charlie Kaufman has no idea how to satisfactorily resolve his loopy, house-of-mirrors narrative. Kaufman is great at setting up weird situations but terrible at following through on them. The novelty of BJM wore off about an hour in, and the novelty of Adaptation lasts only slightly longer. What makes Adaptation a little more successful is Nicolas Cage's engaging portrayal of Charlie and Donald Kaufman, the yin-and-yang screenwriters.
It's been so long since Cage had a role that was of interest to anyone but his accountants that one could be forgiven for forgetting how terrific he can be. Cage plays Charlie Kaufman as a lovable screw-up, a brainy nice-guy who's defeated by his complete lack of belief in himself. Charlie has principles but doesn't have the nerve to stand up for them, and he's unassertive around women which leads to loneliness. Cage gives Charlie the quality of an awkward teenager; he keeps embarrassing himself, miscalculating, holding back at the wrong moments. Charlie is a grown-up gawky adolescent; and Donald is a grown-up adolescent Don Juan. Cage plays Donald and Charlie fairly close together, but gives Donald looser body-language and a less discombobulated way of expressing himself. The combination of brotherly affection and competitiveness is well-developed by the writing, and Cage does an uncanny job delineating both sides of the relationship. He accomplishes the same thing Malkovich accomplished in BJM - he takes a stunt and makes it into something.
I've barely said a word about Spike Jonze, Meryl Streep or Chris Cooper, the last of whom won a gold statue of some kind for playing the dentally-challenged orchid-man Laroche. This is a terrible oversight in the case of Cooper, who is entertaining and deserves a purple heart for having his front teeth removed. As for Streep I have little to say; I still can't find a trace of personality in her acting, and I found her portrayal of Sue Orlean mannered and slightly off-key (the real Sue Orlean is probably flattered to have been played by Meryl Streep, but given the cold, unpleasant quality Streep projects, I'm not sure she should be). And on the subject of Spike Jonze I find myself almost equally stumped for words. Jonze has impeccable camera technique, but he seems too willing to sink into the woodwork. There's something introverted about his directing; he lacks the boldness of a real cinematic artist, and this is why his movies seem so concept-driven. Jonze and Kaufman are sneaky-smart hype-artists more than filmmakers; they've succeeded in constructing a wall of myth around themselves by pulling stunts like putting real people into their movies, or co-crediting their scripts to non-existent siblings. Adaptation has a lot going on in it and around it, but doesn't add up to very much at all.
I wasn't impressed by Being John Malkovich either; it struck me as affected and aimless, a stunt propped up by dashes of sincerity. I appreciated the movie's dry sense of humor, and Catherine Keener's devastating portrayal of a sarcastic super-witch, but I thought there was too much knowing self-effacement in the way Kaufman and Jonze deconstructed the modern male (i.e. themselves). The self-deprecation is even more pungent in Adaptation; Nicolas Cage's Charlie Kaufman is an overweight, balding forty-year-old who sweats profusely in the presence of women, and Kaufman the writer misses few opportunities to humiliate Kaufman the character, to complain about what miserable wretches both are. Furthering the solipsistic agenda, Kaufman includes the fictional character of his brother Donald, also played by Cage, who is Charlie's diametric opposite, a self-assured ladies'-man with a sense of humor about himself. Donald begins working on his own screenplay, and to Charlie's dismay shows a proficiency for the kind of commercial writing Charlie himself pretends to despise but is actually envious of. This gives Kaufman an excuse to lecture us; Donald becomes the means by which he criticizes the small-mindedness of Hollywood producers, agents, etc., His portrayal of Donald is affectionate though, and he can't bring himself to take a real artistic stand. Charlie Kaufman, the wishy-washy genius.
Kaufman and Jonze are fascinated with the absurdity of being a man; in BJM they eviscerated John Cusack's character, portrayed Malkovich as a sex-crazed egomaniac, and concluded that the only solution for Catherine Keener and Cameron Diaz was to become lesbians. In Adaptation they try branching out a little by including a female character who's as screwed-up as the men. Her name is Sue Orlean, the New Yorker writer whose book Charlie is torturing himself trying to adapt, and she's played by Meryl Streep as a dissatisfied intellectual taken in by the charms of the dirt-bag professional flower-thief who's the subject of her best-selling tome. Charlie falls in love with Sue through her book, and Sue leaves her ineffectual husband for Laroche the flower-man who shows her the secret to happiness (hint: you snort it). The story-within-a-story structure is pleasingly unique for awhile, but it quickly becomes apparent that Charlie Kaufman has no idea how to satisfactorily resolve his loopy, house-of-mirrors narrative. Kaufman is great at setting up weird situations but terrible at following through on them. The novelty of BJM wore off about an hour in, and the novelty of Adaptation lasts only slightly longer. What makes Adaptation a little more successful is Nicolas Cage's engaging portrayal of Charlie and Donald Kaufman, the yin-and-yang screenwriters.
It's been so long since Cage had a role that was of interest to anyone but his accountants that one could be forgiven for forgetting how terrific he can be. Cage plays Charlie Kaufman as a lovable screw-up, a brainy nice-guy who's defeated by his complete lack of belief in himself. Charlie has principles but doesn't have the nerve to stand up for them, and he's unassertive around women which leads to loneliness. Cage gives Charlie the quality of an awkward teenager; he keeps embarrassing himself, miscalculating, holding back at the wrong moments. Charlie is a grown-up gawky adolescent; and Donald is a grown-up adolescent Don Juan. Cage plays Donald and Charlie fairly close together, but gives Donald looser body-language and a less discombobulated way of expressing himself. The combination of brotherly affection and competitiveness is well-developed by the writing, and Cage does an uncanny job delineating both sides of the relationship. He accomplishes the same thing Malkovich accomplished in BJM - he takes a stunt and makes it into something.
I've barely said a word about Spike Jonze, Meryl Streep or Chris Cooper, the last of whom won a gold statue of some kind for playing the dentally-challenged orchid-man Laroche. This is a terrible oversight in the case of Cooper, who is entertaining and deserves a purple heart for having his front teeth removed. As for Streep I have little to say; I still can't find a trace of personality in her acting, and I found her portrayal of Sue Orlean mannered and slightly off-key (the real Sue Orlean is probably flattered to have been played by Meryl Streep, but given the cold, unpleasant quality Streep projects, I'm not sure she should be). And on the subject of Spike Jonze I find myself almost equally stumped for words. Jonze has impeccable camera technique, but he seems too willing to sink into the woodwork. There's something introverted about his directing; he lacks the boldness of a real cinematic artist, and this is why his movies seem so concept-driven. Jonze and Kaufman are sneaky-smart hype-artists more than filmmakers; they've succeeded in constructing a wall of myth around themselves by pulling stunts like putting real people into their movies, or co-crediting their scripts to non-existent siblings. Adaptation has a lot going on in it and around it, but doesn't add up to very much at all.