Everything great and exasperating about a Charlie Kaufmann project rolled into one. This is a demanding and opaque film with more layers than explinations. It is simultaneously drab and hilarious, a visual Kafka exersize, impressionistic and infuriating. It riffs on celebrity, the art world, relationships, fatherhood, hypochondria, mortality, and creative insecurity. Sure to be hated by those who prefer some of their themes more easily spooned, and certain to be lauded by those who secretly hated it but don't want to appear dumb, it's a literary self-indulgence that at least has to be admired for its lack of compromise. I liked it a lot, and was also really glad when it was over.