Being John Malkovich
Positive 👍
Alright, let’s talk about Being John Malkovich, because holy fuck, this film is nothing short of a goddamn fever dream dipped in existential dread. Directed by Spike Jonze in his feature-film debut, and written by Charlie Kaufman—who I’m convinced was either high as balls or wrestling with some seriously fucked-up inner demons when he wrote this—Being John Malkovich is a movie that has no right working as well as it does. But here we are. This film is like nothing you’ve ever seen before, and I’ll walk you through why it’s a goddamn masterpiece.
First of all, the premise is bonkers, but that’s what makes it brilliant. You’ve got this puppeteer, Craig Schwartz (played by John Cusack), who’s as frustrated with life as someone would be if they got a splinter under every single one of their fingernails. This dude is done with his shitty existence. So, he takes up a job on the 7½th floor of an office building. Yes, you heard that right, the 7½th floor—it’s a cramped, absurd, in-between nightmare of an office that makes you wanna choke the architect who designed it.
Anyway, Craig stumbles upon a portal that takes him inside the head of John fucking Malkovich. Yeah, that John Malkovich—the actor. He literally becomes John for 15 minutes, sees through his eyes, experiences his life, and then gets spit out on the side of a highway like a sack of rejected meat. WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. FUCK.
Now, here’s where the brilliance starts to seep in. This movie isn’t just weird for the sake of being weird. No, it’s got layers—psychological, philosophical, and existential ones—that’ll have your brain doing somersaults. Kaufman, the mad genius behind the script, is wrestling with some deep themes here. Identity, consciousness, control, and the utter absurdity of human desire. What does it mean to be someone else? Why the hell are we so dissatisfied with being ourselves that we’d want to crawl inside someone else’s mind?
Craig’s not alone in this insanity—he brings his co-worker Maxine (Catherine Keener), who’s a manipulative, charismatic asshole you can’t help but love, into the scheme, and they start selling tickets for people to take a joyride in Malkovich’s head. Which, of course, blows up. People are so desperate to escape their lives that they’ll shell out cash just to experience life through the eyes of a famous actor. This is Kaufman taking a giant middle finger to celebrity culture, fame, and the shallow pursuit of meaning through someone else’s life. The film is practically screaming, "You think it’s better to be someone famous? Fuck off, it’s just as empty."
The performances are next-level brilliant. John Malkovich, for starters, plays a version of himself that’s somehow both hilariously absurd and emotionally raw. The guy is walking around as a shell of himself, literally losing control over his own existence. It’s like watching a human puppet show, which is thematically fitting considering Craig’s puppeteering obsession. Cusack, with that greasy hair and those dead eyes, perfectly captures the misery of a man whose dreams have been ground to dust. Cameron Diaz, who’s barely recognizable in the role of Craig’s wife Lotte, is fantastic as someone also desperate to escape her own shitty life, and when she gets a taste of what it’s like to be Malkovich, she becomes obsessed. There’s this whole bizarre love triangle involving Lotte, Maxine, and Malkovich’s body, and it’s a fucking trip.
The film doesn’t just play out like a surreal comedy—it actually tackles the horror of losing control over your own mind. The further Craig gets into manipulating Malkovich’s life, the more we see how grotesque and nightmarish the idea of being trapped in someone else’s body is. You’re there, but you’re not there. Kaufman is exploring a kind of psychological horror that will make you squirm in your seat, because who the fuck wants to lose their identity, right?
And then there's the philosophical goldmine buried in this film. It’s like a goddamn thesis on existentialism wrapped up in a comedy-drama. It makes you question not just what it means to be somebody else, but what it means to be you. Are we defined by our consciousness, our bodies, or what others perceive us to be? And how far would you go to escape your own miserable life? Kaufman doesn’t give you easy answers, because life doesn’t have any. Instead, he gives you a portal into someone else’s head and asks you to deal with the moral and existential consequences yourself. Like, “Hey, here’s a fun ride that’ll make you question your entire fucking existence!”
Finally, Jonze’s direction is flawless. He knows how to juggle the absurd and the profound, making you laugh your ass off one second and then contemplate the human condition the next. The tone of the movie never feels off, even when things go from bizarre to completely unhinged. The pacing is tight, the editing is sharp, and the visual style feels like a dream where nothing quite makes sense but you go along with it anyway.
In short, Being John Malkovich is a goddamn masterpiece. It’s a weird, funny, thought-provoking film that shits on conventions and leaves you feeling both entertained and deeply unsettled. It’s a film about what it means to be human, to want more than what we have, and the twisted lengths we’ll go to escape ourselves. If you haven’t seen it, stop wasting your life, crawl out of your pit of ignorance, and watch it immediately. You’ll thank me later. Or hate me. Either way, you won’t forget it.
Negative 👎
Alright, let’s rip this Band-Aid off and go for the jugular here. “Being John Malkovich,” the supposed cinematic masterpiece of 1999, is one of those artsy-fartsy films that critics and film-school wankers love to jerk off over because it seems clever, but let’s be real—it’s just a goddamn mess wrapped in pretentious bullshit.
First off, let’s talk about the concept, because that’s where all the drooling fanboys start: “Oh my God, a portal into John Malkovich’s mind?!” Yeah, okay, cool idea, I’ll give you that. For about five minutes. But then it just gets stretched so goddamn thin it feels like they’re using the premise as a cheap gimmick instead of fleshing out any deeper meaning. Like, what are we actually supposed to take away from this? That life is a puppet show and we’re all just miserable marionettes? Cool existential metaphor, man. Too bad the movie doesn’t fucking do anything with it beyond throwing Malkovich’s weird-ass face on screen for us to gawk at. The whole thing plays out like some dumb college dorm conversation: “Bro, what if we could, like, be inside someone’s brain? That’d be trippy.” Yeah, no shit. Now write a story that actually earns the runtime.
Second, the characters. Oh my sweet fuck, the characters. We’ve got Craig Schwartz, this insufferable, greasy loser played by John Cusack. Are we supposed to root for this guy? He’s a manipulative prick who makes puppets all day and thinks he's a genius. There’s a world of difference between writing a flawed protagonist and giving us someone so devoid of charisma that I actually wish he’d stay stuck in some random dude’s brain forever just so I wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. And then there’s Lotte, Cameron Diaz in some ugly-ass wig, who’s equally pathetic and just there. They’re both selfish, whiny assholes! I don’t need a likable character to enjoy a movie, but for fuck’s sake, give me something to latch onto. These people make you wish the portal led somewhere more interesting, like into a garbage disposal.
And don’t even get me started on Maxine (Catherine Keener). She’s got all the emotional depth of a soggy paper towel. She’s mean, manipulative, and just using everyone for her own gain. Every character in this film feels like they were written by someone who thinks “unlikable” automatically means “complex,” when all it does here is make you hope they choke on their own selfishness.
Now, as for John Malkovich himself: yeah, he’s got a weird face, and I guess he’s fine being a prop in his own movie, but is he really such an icon that an entire film needed to be built around him? The guy’s a good actor, sure, but it’s not like he’s that universally recognizable. The whole movie relies on this absurd fascination with John-fucking-Malkovich, as if we’re all supposed to be in on the joke. Spoiler: we’re not. So if you don’t think he’s the most interesting person on Earth (and let’s face it, he’s not), the movie starts to unravel fast.
Finally, let’s address the execution. Spike Jonze’s direction is fine, I guess, but it feels like he’s desperately trying to be quirky for the sake of quirkiness. The 7½ floor is the kind of shit you’d come up with after one too many hits of acid at 3 a.m. and think, “Man, this is genius!” only to sober up and realize it’s just a wacky idea with no real substance. The whole movie has this vibe—like it's trying to be so goddamn surreal and deep, but instead it’s just tossing weirdness at the wall and hoping we think it’s profound. It’s not. It’s fucking annoying.
So yeah, "Being John Malkovich" is overhyped as hell. It’s the kind of film that people think they should like because it’s unconventional, but really, it’s just an empty exercise in quirk without any real heart. Sure, it’s original. I’ll give it that. But originality alone doesn’t make a film great. You need characters that aren’t total dicks, a plot that does more than spin in circles, and a concept that actually leads somewhere meaningful. Otherwise, you’re just sitting there watching two hours of weird for the sake of weird, and I’m sorry, but fuck that noise.