Caged Wisdom: Adaptation

When I first saw Adaptation I think I was about 18. I was as open minded as I was going to get about movies, and I probably said I liked a lot of films more than I did in order to prove my newfound sophistication. In other words, I was probably a drag. If I had seen Charlie Kaufman's Synecdoche, New York at the time, for example, I probably would have said something like “hmm, interesting choice”, or whatever it is that cool people say when presented with something equally ambitious and nonsensical. When I actually saw it—not too long ago, in a developmental sense at least—my reaction was something more like “what a pretentious piece of nonsensical shit”.

That's why I approached Adaptation with a bit of trepidation this time. I absolutely loved it when I first watched it, but the 18 year old version of myself is not to be trusted. There are several movies that I saw at earlier stages in life—the Christopher Walken vehicle Suicide Kings, for example—that should have been left alone. Re-watching movies like Suicide Kings usually only reinforces my fears that I used to be, among other things, an idiot.

Revisiting Adaptation, therefore, came with a distinct sense of relief. Yes, it holds up to repeated viewings, and no, I still can't really think of anything comparable. It starts off as the story of writer Charlie Kaufman struggling to adapt—see what they did there?—Susan Orlean's book The Orchid Thief into a film script. It eventually devolves into a wonderfully eccentric tale of intrigue, self-reflection, infidelity, and self-discovery. What this film does so well is blend reality and Kaufman's twisted vision into a wholly unique experience. Many of the characters in this movie are real—Kaufman, Orlean, and Laroche, for example—but the line separating fact and fiction is decidedly ambiguous.

Kaufman really did get assigned to adapt The Orchid Thief and he really did run into a veritable wall trying to figure out how to best approach it. He also probably really did get greeted with horrified looks when he first revealed that he had written himself into the script—as a side note though, when you hire Kaufman for anything you really should be prepared to receive something at least several types of crazy. 

What I love about this movie is that it is so aware of itself. It interrupts a voice-over with a condemnation of voice-overs; it rues the artificial event-driven narratives of mainstream movies while slowly turning into a Hollywood flick itself; and it blasts the laziness of deus ex machina while relying on dumb luck in tough spots. Yet it all works. And it works in large part because of proper casting.

Throughout the last few months we've spoken at length about the many misuses of Nic Cage, ranging from the comical to the downright depressing. In Adaptation we see that Cage is the perfect medium for Kaufman's madness, portraying both the neurotic writer and his fictional twin brother with surprising comfort. It's really a pairing that must have been ordained by the stars, as Nic's antics that are so jarring in most places really serve to flesh out Kaufman's neurosis here. 

While much of Adaptation borders on the bizarre, there's also something deeply personal about it. I think it's safe to assume that almost none of what occurs in this film actually happened to Kaufman—especially that part where he shared a womb with another human being—but it's hard to come away from this movie without feeling like you've gained some kind of insight into the mind of one of the most gifted screenwriters of our generation. When Cage's Kaufman calls himself a loser and continuously strikes out with women, it genuinely feels like a man grappling with his insecurities, it just happens to be onscreen and for our entertainment.

Re-watching Adaptation was kind of like reuniting with an old fling you didn't think would age well and discovering that she's still got it. It's the kind of movie that doesn't get made very often and gets made well even less. If you haven't seen Adaptation or didn't enjoy it I kind of hate you and think that you're a terrible person.