Eternal Sunshine is one of those perfect films that comes along once every ten years. Its writing is so tight and its direction is so adept that its impossible to conceive that its concept is also wholly unique, even bordering on science fiction. Let us not neglect the fact that it's also a superb love story, or that Gondry's vision could not have been more suitable and visionary for the given script. I read Kaufman's script recently and it's simply not as moving as what the finished film achieves; likewise, Gondry's films are not as cohesive as Eternal Sunshine (although I think his direction of the Foo Fighters' "Everlong" is a mini-masterpiece). We can not imagine Joel Barish played by any other actor than Jim Carrey, who disappears in the role and who has never played a role with the same magnitude since, and we can not imagine a different milieu other than the perpetually frigid Long Island. And even though Charlie Kaufman remains one of the most talented living screenwriters today, none of his screenplays (Adaptation included) approach the popularity, cohesion, and pathos of Eternal Sunshine. All of this points to the singular fact that Eternal Sunshine is a perfect amalgamation of many talents synching up at the perfect moment.
And we are so grateful for this because I could watch this movie a dozen times more and still be moved emotionally and still be challenged intellectually. Why is this, exactly? Is it due to the progression of the film, which moves back and forth in time to the precise moment our protagonists first meet? (At the end of movie, during the ride back from first meeting Clementine, Joel tells his friends "She was nice," a profoundly simplistic statement referring to a love affair so complete, beautiful, and tragic, that it's the last memory wiped clean from his memory). Or is it the clever plot devices that make us think of memories? Like how Joel must dig deep to find shameful memories to hide Clementine, which makes one consider his or her own laden memories. Is it the terrific actors and their characters, spanning from a benevolent Mark Ruffalo to a pathetically sweet Kirsten Dunst to a discerning Tom Wilkinson to a loathsome Elijah Wood? Or is it the film's ultimate grandiose statement on love, the one that challenges Tennyson on whether 'tis better to have loved and lost, the one that makes us wish we could start anew with our significant others and grow to know them all over again? Even the title of the film-- the moment Pope's poem is recited by Mary over a spectacular image of Joel and Clementine watching elephants--is emblematic of the kind of literary magic only film can achieve.
I believe that ultimately the film is about second chances, which obviously touches upon something deep in human nature. Kaufman's original script ends on a much more dour note (think of Being John Malkovitch and Synecdoche, New York) than that of the film's conclusion. But in the end, we know love feels like shit, so why end on a note that reminds us of that? The final repetitive frames of a snow-covered beach perfectly echo this point; love creates an imprint on the collective universe that can never be erased.
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