So in this movie, Adaptation, we learn that it's all artistic to be self-referential and stuff like that. There is that screenwriter, Charlie, who's trying to adapt a novel written by some lady whose photograph he likes to masturbate to, but he really doesn't spend too much time talking about her novel at all, and that's really bold, creative and visionary. I wish I could be creative, but I don't think my brain works that way. Charlie's brain comes from a brain factory.
I remember when I was in grade school, I had to do this report on Howard Hughes, but instead of writing about Howard Hughes, I wrote down on a piece of paper about how I went to the library and couldn't find anything about Howard Hughes, and my teacher gave me an F, which shows how stupid she is. I was self-referential and artistic, and I was all, you know, exploring and chronicling the creative process of writing a paper about Howard Hughes, and that unimaginative brute stunted my creativity by giving me an F. She said I didn't do the assignment. I'm glad that the production company that hired Charlie to adapt that lady's book didn't stunt his growth just because he didn't do his assignment. In fact, if I were that lady who wrote the book, instead of seeing a movie about my book, I think I'd much rather see a movie about some bald, fat loser whacking-off to my picture, and then portraying me as a murderous crack whore. That would be art.
You can tell that Charlie's a true art guy, because all of them art guys use what they call literary devices. Like that time where Charlie employed that literary device called irony. Remember that? It was awesome. In the movie, Charlie Kaufman has a split personality. His alter ego is his twin brother, Andy Kaufman, who wrestles women and writes a screenplay, The Three, about some guy who has three distinct personalities. While Charlie is self-indulgently poking fun at formulaic thrillers like The Three, it's all *ironic* and stuff that audience members, deep down, are thinking, "Wow, I really wish I were watching The Three instead of this steaming pile of art."
Oh yeah! And then there's that one part where Kaufman doesn't have nearly the talent, ability or craftsmanship to adapt that lady's book so he slaps that fake ending on it. (And this is the genius part!) He slaps that fake ending on it - all the while pretending to lampoon the fabled vulgar, formulaic Hollywood ending - but what he's really doing is covering up for the fact that he doesn't possess the skill to pull off the adaptation. Bravo, Charles! Bravo! So now all the elitist critics can watch this incoherent mess of a movie, fling four stars at it, smugly chuckle at the great unwashed movie going masses, and congratulate themselves at being so incredibly insightful and sophisticated as to decipher the subtle subtext.
In conclusion, let me paraphrase Charlie Kaufman himself: Adaptation is self-indulgent. It's narcissistic. It's solipsistic. It's pathetic. Kaufman is pathetic. He's fat and pathetic. The reason this screenplay is self-referential is that he was too timid to speak to the woman who wrote the book. Because he's pathetic. Because he has no idea how to write. Because he can't make flowers fascinating. Because he sucks.
I remember when I was in grade school, I had to do this report on Howard Hughes, but instead of writing about Howard Hughes, I wrote down on a piece of paper about how I went to the library and couldn't find anything about Howard Hughes, and my teacher gave me an F, which shows how stupid she is. I was self-referential and artistic, and I was all, you know, exploring and chronicling the creative process of writing a paper about Howard Hughes, and that unimaginative brute stunted my creativity by giving me an F. She said I didn't do the assignment. I'm glad that the production company that hired Charlie to adapt that lady's book didn't stunt his growth just because he didn't do his assignment. In fact, if I were that lady who wrote the book, instead of seeing a movie about my book, I think I'd much rather see a movie about some bald, fat loser whacking-off to my picture, and then portraying me as a murderous crack whore. That would be art.
You can tell that Charlie's a true art guy, because all of them art guys use what they call literary devices. Like that time where Charlie employed that literary device called irony. Remember that? It was awesome. In the movie, Charlie Kaufman has a split personality. His alter ego is his twin brother, Andy Kaufman, who wrestles women and writes a screenplay, The Three, about some guy who has three distinct personalities. While Charlie is self-indulgently poking fun at formulaic thrillers like The Three, it's all *ironic* and stuff that audience members, deep down, are thinking, "Wow, I really wish I were watching The Three instead of this steaming pile of art."
Oh yeah! And then there's that one part where Kaufman doesn't have nearly the talent, ability or craftsmanship to adapt that lady's book so he slaps that fake ending on it. (And this is the genius part!) He slaps that fake ending on it - all the while pretending to lampoon the fabled vulgar, formulaic Hollywood ending - but what he's really doing is covering up for the fact that he doesn't possess the skill to pull off the adaptation. Bravo, Charles! Bravo! So now all the elitist critics can watch this incoherent mess of a movie, fling four stars at it, smugly chuckle at the great unwashed movie going masses, and congratulate themselves at being so incredibly insightful and sophisticated as to decipher the subtle subtext.
In conclusion, let me paraphrase Charlie Kaufman himself: Adaptation is self-indulgent. It's narcissistic. It's solipsistic. It's pathetic. Kaufman is pathetic. He's fat and pathetic. The reason this screenplay is self-referential is that he was too timid to speak to the woman who wrote the book. Because he's pathetic. Because he has no idea how to write. Because he can't make flowers fascinating. Because he sucks.