Prediction, Perception, and Predestination

Charlie Kaufman has been a strange fascination for the ‘film bro’ community for as long as I can remember. No matter what your personal favorite is, mine being Synecdoche, New York (2008),  there’s no denying that his screenplays are some of the most original and extraordinary cinematic works in the history of, like, ever.

Now if you’re a little confused, don’t worry, you may know what I’m talking about even if you don’t think you do. Being John Malkovich (1999), of which the central plot revolves around entering the mind and body of famous actor John Malkovich, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), where people and all-encompassing experiences can be erased from one’s memory, are just a few of Charlie Kaufman’s most famous works. Ah yes, that guy. All of his films are marked by absolute absurdity. There always comes a point while watching one where you no longer want to sit down and talk to Kaufman over a cup of coffee, you’d rather just crawl through a portal into his mind all Malkovich-style and desperately try to figure out what the hell is going on. His films aren’t just weird; they’re weird weird. And Kaufman’s newest flick, I’m Thinking of Ending Things (2020) is no exception.

The psychological drama follows a couple as they embark on quite possibly the strangest ‘meet the parents’ trip ever. The young woman in the relationship contemplates ending her relationship with her boyfriend, Jake, but her experiences in middle-of-nowhere Oklahoma quickly muddle her once clear motive.

Although it’s a Netflix release, I’m Thinking of Ending Things has just enough Toni Collette and Dutch-angled cinematography to feed your A24 appetite. From its color palette to its melancholy blizzard landscape, the aesthetics of the film are killer, but what truly stands out is the critical roles the visuals serve in provoking the classic Kaufman unsettling feeling. During your next viewing experience, pay close attention to the set, wardrobe, and props in particular.

The true stars of the show are the recurring motifs that the characters struggle to make sense of and grapple with. From the get go, viewers are launched into Kaufman’s all too familiar wonderings about ideas - particularly the ownership, originality, and authenticity that one’s thoughts could possibly have. If an idea is born from an external environment, setting, and other provocations, can it truly have been created as a completely new entity? If something so planned and controlled as our actions or words could be predestined, then surely something as innate as thoughts could be, too. From there springs the concept of planting ideas. If you’re familiar with Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, this concept will not seem foreign to you.

Both films deal intimately with a fragmented and falling apart relationship and the desire for true happiness while being surrounded by feigned happiness. Time and time again, these characters face deep frustrations as they desperately try to make sense of a world composed of absolutely no sense at all. The characters fall into the trap of attempting to predict what will happen and contemplating whether one has any stake in their life or if it’s all been set in stone. They also explore the capabilities of controlling someone else’s life, particularly with selfish and narcissistic motives. It’s important to note that Kaufman’s films often exist in a nonlinear timescape where nothing is as it seems, chronologically or otherwise.

I’m Thinking of Ending Things takes this aforementioned discussion of predestination further by posing the question: what kind of living happens without free will? Can we even truly live without free will? At the risk of oversimplifying and stating the obvious, I’d compare this to a medical scenario. Many would prefer to be unplugged if ever in the position where a machine keeps them alive and therefore their quality of life has been so excruciatingly diminished. But perhaps the crutch of having no control over the course of one’s life and being actually braindead are ill-suited for comparison. But where do we draw the line then - where does the living occur? Maybe the living happens in the liminal space where we contemplate our own mobility, our own action in the unstopping marching of time - the young woman might think so. Maybe it happens in the promise of silver linings, in the hope.