After
creating a portal into the mind of actor John Malkovich, in the touchingly
warped Being John Malkovich, writer Charlie Kaufman invites audiences to
travel inside his own hypercritical and neurotic psyche with Adaptation.
Collaborating once again with Malkovich director Spike Jonze, whose
visual flair garnered an Academy award nomination three years ago, Kaufman
discovers an extremely innovative method to adapting another author’s work:
And that is to merge it with his own.
Not
only does the self-deprecating writer (read his self-loathing intro to the Malkovich
script), after being hired by Jonathan Demme’s production company to adapt Susan
Orlean’s acclaimed novel, The Orchid Thief, write about his
frustrations in attempting to adapt that book into an original screenplay, but
Kaufman actually juxtaposes those scenes with segments from Orlean’s
bestseller.
Not
since the Coens’ Barton Fink was summoned by Hollywood to pen a Wallace
Beery wrestling picture has an esteemed writer’s perplexity been so
entertainingly bizarre. Like Malkovich, Adaptation isn’t content
with simply maintaining an unusual concept and developing quirky characters,
which range from the philosopher Charles Darwin to Charlie Kaufman’s
fictitious twin brother (named Donald Kaufman), rather, the film manages to
reach levels of poignancy most movies don’t have the courage to attempt.
Kaufman scurries through uncharted movieland territory with the audacity of some
maniacal pioneer.
Adaptation
is also the
long-awaited redemption of Nicolas Cage, who, with perhaps the exception of Bringing
Out the Dead, hasn’t been on par with his pre-Oscar career. Here he plays
dual roles – both requiring him to look oafish, pale, and have a receding
hairline. Cage plays both Charlie Kaufman, whose screenplay, Being John
Malkovich, has just started production, and Donald Kaufman, a seemingly
senseless boob lounging around his brother’s Hollywood pad. Donald,
unemployed yet always chipper and open to new ideas, has decided to become a
screenwriter and starts writing a Hollywood-ish serial-killer movie.
As
the film begins, Charlie has just been hired by a Hollywood executive (Tilda
Swinton) to adapt Susan Orlean’s (played by Meryl Streep) The Orchid Thief.
We hear, in voice-over, his mind’s neurotic ramblings, which constantly state
how repulsive, bald, and worthless Kaufman believes himself to be.
The
Orchid Thief
is about an eccentric Floridian orchid collector named John Laroche (played by
Chris Cooper), who travels deep into the swamps with his Native American
co-workers to retrieve the rare and beautiful flowers. Orlean was fascinated by
her subject’s commitment and knowledge not just of flowers, but also of
various other subjects (be it turtles, fish, or vintage mirrors…all hobbies of
the past). The New Yorker columnist couldn’t comprehend, but wanted to, how
any man has the ability to switch passions without hesitation. The book is also
about orchids themselves, their haunting beauty and ability to spark passion in
people who lack the emotion.
And
just how in the hell can any rational screenwriter adapt a book about flowers
without resorting to such Hollywood conventions as turning the script into an
orchid heist flick, crammed with guns, sex, and car-chases? That is what Donald
would do, were he adapting the novel. Charlie, however, leans more towards the
artistic side; the side where remaining faithful to your material, in other
words being respectful to an author’s work, is essential. But once this
technique proves futile, and Charlie begins losing his mind, both brothers’
worlds collide in a third-act so nutty and out-there, some audience members may
tune out.
Based
on the plot description alone, Adaptation certainly sounds loony. That is
because there is no mention of minor, sweeter characters like Amelia (Cara
Seymour), Charlie’s would-be girlfriend. Would be were Charlie not so
hesitant, critical, and hateful of himself. His social anxieties are similar to Punch-Drunk
Love’s Barry Egan, who has isolated himself from most human relations. In an equally sweet and minor
role is Maggie Gyllenhaal as Donald’s
supportive girlfriend, who doesn’t mind the writer’s geek- like, yet
self-assured, behavior.
Jonze
and Kaufman make for an impressive duo. It will be interesting to see Jonze helm
something not written by Kaufman, but until then, his maturity with a
camera holds much promise for future projects. Not to say there aren’t any
detections of the director’s music video background, which is evident in a quick
montage illustrating the evolution of man.
Grade: A-
-Copyright
2002 by Shaun Sages