by Michelle Martin
(missing author)[...] In his review of Adaptation, David Ulin argues for seeing Kaufman not as merely a screenplay writer but as a "great American writer ... [with] his mastery of structure, his voice and vision, his recognition of the power of the word to remake the world -- he stands with the finest writers of his generation, among them David Foster Wallace, Mona Simpson, [and] Michael Chabon." Similarly, Derek Hill, in his book about American New Wave cinema, describes Kaufman as "our pre-eminent explorer of anxiety-laden inner space, a cross between Franz Kafka and Woody Allen, with a pinch of Larry David, a dollop or two of Philip K. Dick, and a huge slathering of Samuel Beckett sprinkled with Jorge Luis Borges to top it off."
<3
[...] In his review of Adaptation, David Ulin argues for seeing Kaufman not as merely a screenplay writer but as a "great American writer ... [with] his mastery of structure, his voice and vision, his recognition of the power of the word to remake the world -- he stands with the finest writers of his generation, among them David Foster Wallace, Mona Simpson, [and] Michael Chabon." Similarly, Derek Hill, in his book about American New Wave cinema, describes Kaufman as "our pre-eminent explorer of anxiety-laden inner space, a cross between Franz Kafka and Woody Allen, with a pinch of Larry David, a dollop or two of Philip K. Dick, and a huge slathering of Samuel Beckett sprinkled with Jorge Luis Borges to top it off."
<3
In The Language of Pain, theorist David Biro muses about our impetus to turn inward and succumb to pain: "Pain," he explains, "silences us. So why bother trying to speak? Why not just close one's eyes ... and wait for it to pass? And for those who witness pain, why bother trying to break down the wall of private experience and attempt to share what cannot be shared?" In the pain-riddled worlds of Wallace and Kaufman, silence is undoubtedly tempting in the face of insurmountable suffering and loss. Trapped in the pain of their own melancholy, both Joel and #20 fall victim to the mistaken belief that, as Wallace discusses in his Kenyon College commencement speech, they are "the absolute center of the universe, the realest, most vivid and important person in existence." So entrenched in their own needs and internal narratives about pain, Joel and #20 cannot see others as anything but mere shadows in the face of their own all-encompassing melancholy experience. [...]
In The Language of Pain, theorist David Biro muses about our impetus to turn inward and succumb to pain: "Pain," he explains, "silences us. So why bother trying to speak? Why not just close one's eyes ... and wait for it to pass? And for those who witness pain, why bother trying to break down the wall of private experience and attempt to share what cannot be shared?" In the pain-riddled worlds of Wallace and Kaufman, silence is undoubtedly tempting in the face of insurmountable suffering and loss. Trapped in the pain of their own melancholy, both Joel and #20 fall victim to the mistaken belief that, as Wallace discusses in his Kenyon College commencement speech, they are "the absolute center of the universe, the realest, most vivid and important person in existence." So entrenched in their own needs and internal narratives about pain, Joel and #20 cannot see others as anything but mere shadows in the face of their own all-encompassing melancholy experience. [...]
[...] The Granola Cruncher, too, chooses to understand her story in her own terms. Refusing to yield to fear during and after a horrific, life-changing experience, she chooses to open herself to others despite the inevitability of pain. Although they face the very real threat of continued emotional and/or physical pain, both women resist the temptation to retreat inwards and remain willing to connect. Similarly, Wallace and Kaufman seek -- through their challenging literary and filmic texts that invite multiple readings or viewings -- to encourage the reader to do the same: to fight the urge to close one's eyes, and Biro describes, and succumb to the pain of melancholic loneliness. [...]
[...] The Granola Cruncher, too, chooses to understand her story in her own terms. Refusing to yield to fear during and after a horrific, life-changing experience, she chooses to open herself to others despite the inevitability of pain. Although they face the very real threat of continued emotional and/or physical pain, both women resist the temptation to retreat inwards and remain willing to connect. Similarly, Wallace and Kaufman seek -- through their challenging literary and filmic texts that invite multiple readings or viewings -- to encourage the reader to do the same: to fight the urge to close one's eyes, and Biro describes, and succumb to the pain of melancholic loneliness. [...]