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Anomalisa
Les yeux sans visage...
This tale about what it means to connect - or not - with other people is just as affecting and funny now as it was when I first watched it six years ago. Its timelessness has a lot to do with it being the work of Charlie Kaufman, whose Adaptation, which I also rewatched not too long ago, holds up despite being twenty years old. The writer/director remains the reigning expert on the subject of the difficulty of achieving meaningful human connection even though his output has slowed as of late. David Lynch notwithstanding, he may also hold this title in the reality bending department. Oh, and if the hotel phone with seemingly dozens of buttons that essentially mean the same thing and Michael's "encounter" with the hotel manager are of any indication, Charlie's a pretty funny guy, too. Credit also goes to Duke Johnson's stop-motion animation, which I believe is on par with even Aardman's best. I made a point to pay specific attention to the animation in this viewing, and during the scene where Michael is talking to his wife on the phone, there are moments when I could have sworn that he's a real person. As for the sex scene, it is more natural and realistic than ones in live-action movies. None of this would work if its trio of performers hadn't stepped up in the way they did, my favorite being Tom Noonan, who convinced me that he's a middle-aged woman and a child without having to modulate his voice that much. The cherry on top of all of this is that the movie concludes in a way that's not only heartbreaking, but also in true Charlie Kaufman fashion for how it makes you think twice about everything you've witnessed.
So, what exactly is wrong with Michael, anyway? Is he, as IMDB's one-sentence description of the movie indicates, simply "crippled by the mundanity of his life?" Alternatively, has his aptly chosen career as a customer service expert made him look at all social interaction as artificial and transactional? You could also throw a fear of intimacy and/or commitment and neurodivergence into the mix. While all of these may apply, the universality of Michael's condition is one reason why it's so resonant because it's easy to project what ails you in that department onto it. I also appreciate that the movie doesn't shirk on portraying the consequences of such conditions on others, whether it’s the confusion on Michael's son's face or how clearly emotionally destroyed former flame Bella is. Moreover, you could come up with just as many reasons as to why Lisa appeals to Michael so much. Could it just be that Michael finds her attractive and relatable? Is it just because Michael thinks she is someone he can control? It's more likely that it's the latter, because as that brilliant sun-drenched breakfast scene indicates, the more Lisa reveals quirks which Michael finds annoying and the more she makes plans that he finds uninteresting or require him to let his guard down, the more she seems like everyone else to him. As for the Japanese doll, does it indicate that Lisa is a product of Michael's imagination? I doubt it, especially since that would betray the ending. We don't see what Lisa's friend Emily really looks like for no reason. I think it's in the movie to haunt Michael about what could have been and its purpose to remind him of all it ended up being. For me, choosing a favorite Charlie Kaufman movie is like choosing a favorite child because the ones I've seen are all so good and unique, but I will say that this one stands out for how well it mirrors late 2010's life and onwards. Michael's typical interaction with everyone else does, after all, resemble what social media reduces it to. When you consider that Kaufman wrote the play on which this movie is based in 2005, a year in which social media existed, but wasn't as prevalent as it is today - I mean, Twitter didn't even exist yet - we have yet another reason to wonder if he's is a time traveler, not to mention be thankful that Donald was the twin who kicked the bucket.
Les yeux sans visage...
This tale about what it means to connect - or not - with other people is just as affecting and funny now as it was when I first watched it six years ago. Its timelessness has a lot to do with it being the work of Charlie Kaufman, whose Adaptation, which I also rewatched not too long ago, holds up despite being twenty years old. The writer/director remains the reigning expert on the subject of the difficulty of achieving meaningful human connection even though his output has slowed as of late. David Lynch notwithstanding, he may also hold this title in the reality bending department. Oh, and if the hotel phone with seemingly dozens of buttons that essentially mean the same thing and Michael's "encounter" with the hotel manager are of any indication, Charlie's a pretty funny guy, too. Credit also goes to Duke Johnson's stop-motion animation, which I believe is on par with even Aardman's best. I made a point to pay specific attention to the animation in this viewing, and during the scene where Michael is talking to his wife on the phone, there are moments when I could have sworn that he's a real person. As for the sex scene, it is more natural and realistic than ones in live-action movies. None of this would work if its trio of performers hadn't stepped up in the way they did, my favorite being Tom Noonan, who convinced me that he's a middle-aged woman and a child without having to modulate his voice that much. The cherry on top of all of this is that the movie concludes in a way that's not only heartbreaking, but also in true Charlie Kaufman fashion for how it makes you think twice about everything you've witnessed.
So, what exactly is wrong with Michael, anyway? Is he, as IMDB's one-sentence description of the movie indicates, simply "crippled by the mundanity of his life?" Alternatively, has his aptly chosen career as a customer service expert made him look at all social interaction as artificial and transactional? You could also throw a fear of intimacy and/or commitment and neurodivergence into the mix. While all of these may apply, the universality of Michael's condition is one reason why it's so resonant because it's easy to project what ails you in that department onto it. I also appreciate that the movie doesn't shirk on portraying the consequences of such conditions on others, whether it’s the confusion on Michael's son's face or how clearly emotionally destroyed former flame Bella is. Moreover, you could come up with just as many reasons as to why Lisa appeals to Michael so much. Could it just be that Michael finds her attractive and relatable? Is it just because Michael thinks she is someone he can control? It's more likely that it's the latter, because as that brilliant sun-drenched breakfast scene indicates, the more Lisa reveals quirks which Michael finds annoying and the more she makes plans that he finds uninteresting or require him to let his guard down, the more she seems like everyone else to him. As for the Japanese doll, does it indicate that Lisa is a product of Michael's imagination? I doubt it, especially since that would betray the ending. We don't see what Lisa's friend Emily really looks like for no reason. I think it's in the movie to haunt Michael about what could have been and its purpose to remind him of all it ended up being. For me, choosing a favorite Charlie Kaufman movie is like choosing a favorite child because the ones I've seen are all so good and unique, but I will say that this one stands out for how well it mirrors late 2010's life and onwards. Michael's typical interaction with everyone else does, after all, resemble what social media reduces it to. When you consider that Kaufman wrote the play on which this movie is based in 2005, a year in which social media existed, but wasn't as prevalent as it is today - I mean, Twitter didn't even exist yet - we have yet another reason to wonder if he's is a time traveler, not to mention be thankful that Donald was the twin who kicked the bucket.