I don't feel up to writing about Charlie Kaufman's Synecdoche, New York (hereafter Synecdoche), because, as with something like Mulholland Drive , it's in the writing about it that one is bound to discover one has said altogether too much about oneself and altogether not enough about the film.
As in Lynch’s Mulholland Drive , the horror-movie tropes of I’m Thinking of Ending Things—irrational editing, collapses in time and spatial placement, emphases on a “forbidden place” that reveals all (in this case a basement)—suggest fissures in a psyche.
There are hints of Mulholland Drive as the film treks on into surreal bits of business, such as a pair of almost-identical blondes working the counter at a Tulsey Town ice-cream stand.
Like the pleading, unanswered telephone calls that descend through Diane Selwyn’s layers of feverish denial in Mulholland Drive (2001), these voicemails hint at the unstable character of the universe in I’m Thinking of Ending Things .
If two people in a car in a snowstorm talking about the meaning of David Foster Wallace's suicide sounds like fun; if a long re-evaluation on the feminist shortcomings of John Cassavetes' A Woman Under the Influence is similarly enticing; if you thought David Lynch was a little too obvious in Mulholland Drive – this is your movie.
“I’m Thinking of Ending Things” is a puzzle film, in other words, and like Lynch’s “Mulholland Drive” it does have a solution even if the getting there stands to leave a majority of viewers baffled, bored, or angry.