You are now watching: This week’s dvds: A final nail in the Kaufman? (video blog)

(What’s in a name? If it’s Kaufman, chances are you’re an oddball creative. Consider these crackpot namesakes: Lloyd — the “toxic” founder of Troma Entertainment; Andy — the semi-pro wrestler and pre-Joaquin, Letterman tormentor; and, George S. — the Algonquin Round Tabler and Pulitzer Prize winner who fed Groucho his very best lines. Now, there’s Charlie, a gifted screenwriter whose scenarios are almost as peculiar as he is. I’ve interviewed Mr. Kaufman four times — in conjunction with BEING JOHN MALKOVICH, ADAPTATION, ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND and SYNECDOCHE, NEW YORK — and each time it’s like meeting Tarzan. Charlie looks human and responds to my voice, yet seems unclear what’s happening, uncertain whether to trust and always prepared to pounce or run should the audience turn. He begins demure, defensive and demoralized until he slowly registers my compliments are sincere, my questions good-spirited. Talking with Charlie is a challenge though always rewarding, much like his movies, particularly his uneven directorial debut, SYNECDOCHE, which comes out on dvd today. (Listen in on the post-show q&a we struggled through here.)

Here are a few other new releases well worth renting…

Got MILK? This year’s Better Picture® is more inspiring than Tony Robbins and Bette Midler serenading you with Wind Beneath My Wings. (Sean Penn earned his Oscar® as Harvey… though I’d ask him to return his award for MYSTIC RIVER and give it to Sir Ben Kingsley for HOUSE OF SAND AND FOG instead.)

RACHEL GETTING MARRIED, LET THE RIGHT ONE IN and CADILLAC RECORDS are also worth a watch. I’ll write more about them soon. 

Finally, if I can stop you from renting just one movie this week, let it be Mike Leigh‘s exercise in scurrility, the obnoxiously rose-lensed looked at the life of its lead, an unbelievable Poppy-anna,  portrayed perfectly, if infuriatingly, by Sally Hawkins. Despite the edgy appearance of Eddie Marsan as a racist driving instructor — who makes Mel Gibson sound like the President of the Anti-Defamation League — the film cannot overcome its hollow core. Sadly, there is too little of Marsan’s spittle, too much of Hawkins’ twattle. While I have admired many of the filmmaker’s previous efforts, this one made we want to scream: HAPPY-GO-F**K-YOURSELF! For a bit more about what bothered me, watch today’s THINK piece below. (To hear me more restrained, speaking with Mr. Leigh himself, watch the FILM RAP during which George W. Bush gets blamed for another atrocity.)