To dismiss a film as "weird" is a disservice to the art of filmmaking. To summarize it with a sighing "I don't get it" is ineffective. It offers nothing to you, the hopeful inquiring about the picture, and provides no critique to the people involved in its production.
"I'm Thinking of Ending Things" is one of those movies. Writer-director Charlie Kaufman is sort of known to evoke those sort of harsh generalizations from his works, and no doubt his latest, Netflix-released release, will have its ardent fans and its vocal critics. And for good reason.
If people are looking for some helpful words of advice to the looming question, "should I watch it?" Then let me give you some: it is dumb, tedious, boring, pointless, and all in all, not enjoyable. There is zero reason for people to spend their Labor day weekend, except to make you feel bad, uncomfortable, and sad. You sink with misery into your couch, watching awkward caricatures ramble on with laborious dialogue in nonsense conditions. It's a film open for interpretation, and I had my own, which I found unsatisfying. One could say it's something you should watch twice to fully appreciate it, but then why isn't the runtime twice as long, and the final product better?
It pretends to tackle important issues like sexism, homosexuality, life, death, etc., but it's a lie- characters instead offer textbook analysis of movies, shows, plays, what-have-you, and passes it off as nuanced understanding. Take, for example, when the song "Baby it's Cold Outside" is under the microscope. The male, Jake (Jesse Plemons), of course takes no offense to lyrics like "... what's the sense of hurting my pride?" The woman, played by Jessie Buckley, of course finds them sexist. Is she right, he right, or are they both right? I don't know, but neither does the film. Just asking a question doesn't make it "insightful." They exchange opinions and then nothing happens, no one learns and no one grows. It is shallow and phony wisdom, and it's just irksome.
Hm, the plot. I should mention it, but what's the point? It's a convenient clothesline of circumstances where stupid things happen to stupid people, who react stupidly in stupid situations. A lot of unbelievable things happen in its excruciating 134 minute runtime, like when a character recites an entire poem she just wrote. Line for line, word for word. You're telling me she memorized it?! I'll tell you this, the second I click that 'publish" button on this review, I won't remember a word I typed. Or this movie.
Maybe I just didn't get it. Maybe this film isn't for me. Maybe I need explosions or fisticuffs to hold my attention. Or, maybe, just perhaps, I see through the pretentious dreck that writer-director Charlie Kaufman is selling and see he has nothing for sale?
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