The Despondancy of Synecdoche
I don’t know how I missed it in its original go-round, and am a little bit irritated at my digital arts media fare for not calling attention to it sooner, but Synecdoche, New York, may be the finest film I’ve ever seen. This piece is almost completely indescribable. It is an Escher-ian meta story that swallows its own tail. The glut of surrealism contained within can cause temporary psychosis, though – so fair warning. Anyway, have a monologue: