One of the greatest screenplays ever written, period. Though we deconstructed its flawless structure at a USC course this summer, it’s only now after watching a second time I can really see why it works so goddamn well.
Not only introducing perhaps the single most original and commercially reusable concept since Groundhog Day, Charlie Kaufman proves, arguably better than any of his other works, his unwavering confidence in subtlety and craft. P.T. Anderson thinks it’s better to confuse the audience for five minutes than let them get ahead of you for 10 seconds. Kaufman clearly subscribes to that. There’s not a single second in Eternal Sunshine you feel like you’re smarter than the writer (maybe nearing the end you might think you know where he’s going, but then he throws the “okay… okay” scene at you and you’re floored).
How does he intertwine subplots so seamlessly? The four character complex between the doctor, his two technicians, and the receptionist, combined with the C-plot of Joel’s two troubled friends melts onto Joel and Clementine’s relationship like butter. The constant intercutting and dramatic irony elevates the suspense and fills the typically boring moments in romances, giving space for supporting character developments and emotional weight. The buried, hidden away, and as Joel would say, humiliating memories date back to his childhood, where Kaufman delivers immensely effective exposition, sprinkles of relevant comedy, and an overwhelming sense of nostalgia critical to all romances. Kaufman knows that stylized montages with audio from other scenes and a rising Jon Brion score will break the audience, but he knows just as well that equally complex conflicts in subplots will ground them.
Consider the incredible detail to dialogue and foreshadowing: “someone stole your panties” works on so many levels of flashbacks and memory that it makes Inception look like Happy Feet. Same with Clementine as “tangerine” (clever choice of names, Kaufman), the dent on the car, and of course, “meet me in Montauk”. There’s also the last shot, suggesting the never ending cyclic nature of relationships. Hopeful or depressing? Do Joel and Clementine embrace the inherent flaws we all, as human beings, have? Or will their flaws inevitably repeat? But of course, objectifying all this is useless; like any good screenwriter, Kaufman leaves that up to you to decide.
But perhaps it’s not perfect. Perhaps its direction is lazy. Perhaps its pacing is off (towards the end, especially). The seemingly important notebook Joel was writing on at the beginning should’ve been paid off later on.
Nevertheless, Eternal Sunshine is unquestionably a rare romance for the ages— transcending the boundaries of storytelling, proving creativity in the modern age is still alive, and flicking a well-deserved middle finger to all The Notebooks out there, all while delivering a deeply satisfying universal story that culminates in tear-jerking fireworks and brutally honest love.
A-
Not only introducing perhaps the single most original and commercially reusable concept since Groundhog Day, Charlie Kaufman proves, arguably better than any of his other works, his unwavering confidence in subtlety and craft. P.T. Anderson thinks it’s better to confuse the audience for five minutes than let them get ahead of you for 10 seconds. Kaufman clearly subscribes to that. There’s not a single second in Eternal Sunshine you feel like you’re smarter than the writer (maybe nearing the end you might think you know where he’s going, but then he throws the “okay… okay” scene at you and you’re floored).
How does he intertwine subplots so seamlessly? The four character complex between the doctor, his two technicians, and the receptionist, combined with the C-plot of Joel’s two troubled friends melts onto Joel and Clementine’s relationship like butter. The constant intercutting and dramatic irony elevates the suspense and fills the typically boring moments in romances, giving space for supporting character developments and emotional weight. The buried, hidden away, and as Joel would say, humiliating memories date back to his childhood, where Kaufman delivers immensely effective exposition, sprinkles of relevant comedy, and an overwhelming sense of nostalgia critical to all romances. Kaufman knows that stylized montages with audio from other scenes and a rising Jon Brion score will break the audience, but he knows just as well that equally complex conflicts in subplots will ground them.
Consider the incredible detail to dialogue and foreshadowing: “someone stole your panties” works on so many levels of flashbacks and memory that it makes Inception look like Happy Feet. Same with Clementine as “tangerine” (clever choice of names, Kaufman), the dent on the car, and of course, “meet me in Montauk”. There’s also the last shot, suggesting the never ending cyclic nature of relationships. Hopeful or depressing? Do Joel and Clementine embrace the inherent flaws we all, as human beings, have? Or will their flaws inevitably repeat? But of course, objectifying all this is useless; like any good screenwriter, Kaufman leaves that up to you to decide.
But perhaps it’s not perfect. Perhaps its direction is lazy. Perhaps its pacing is off (towards the end, especially). The seemingly important notebook Joel was writing on at the beginning should’ve been paid off later on.
Nevertheless, Eternal Sunshine is unquestionably a rare romance for the ages— transcending the boundaries of storytelling, proving creativity in the modern age is still alive, and flicking a well-deserved middle finger to all The Notebooks out there, all while delivering a deeply satisfying universal story that culminates in tear-jerking fireworks and brutally honest love.
A-