"Adaptation" is not for you. Okay, maybe it is for you, but that all depends on who "you" are. Are you one of the Teeming Millions who sat blankly through "Being John Malkovich", only coming to life when Malk gets hit on the head with a beer can? If so, then "Adaptation" is not for you. On the other hand, are you one of the avid cinephiles who sat, absorbed, through "Being John Malkovich", waiting anxiously to find out just what would happen if Malk himself made a trip through the portal? Well, then "Adaptation", and an undying offer of friendship from me, is definitely for you.

"Adaptation" is about Charlie Kaufman (Nicholas Cage), the fat, balding, sweaty and much-acclaimed screenwriter of "Being John Malkovich", who lives with his brother Donald (Cage again), a fat, balding, sweaty and unlikely prospective screenwriter anxious to churn out some formulaic thriller drek. Charlie, after the critical success of his first script, is offered the chance to adapt the non-fiction novel "The Orchid Thief" into a movie. That novel's author, Susan Orlean (Cage again; okay, just kidding, this role goes to Meryl Street), unhappy in a loveless marriage, contemplates her title character, John Laroche (Chris Cooper), a raging id of a horticulturist who's the "smartest man [he] knows" but doesn't look the part, seeing as he's missing his front teeth. Is Orlean in love with Laroche, or just his persona as a man capable of absolute love? Is Kaufman in love with Orlean, or just her beautifully simple words? Can Kaufman complete his screenplay? Will Orlean find true happiness?

I now look over the last four questions that end the above paragraph, and realize that in some ways they encapsulate "Adaptation" perfectly, and in other ways the fail miserable to capture the essence of the movie. For it is not a movie whose essence is easily nailed down. It flutters from tone to tone like a butterfly (You know the one that causes tidal waves in China? That butterfly), turning from screwball comedy to metaphysical drama to typical Hollywood pabulum to postmodern deconstruction of typical Hollywood pabulum. It exists, all at once, as a parody, a satire, and a sincere love-letter to the art of screenwriting. And it offers a multitude of life lessons, in the form of easy-to-understand platitudes, while passionately thumbing its nose at movies that offer life lessons and platitudes (do you see how a line like, "It's not who loves you, but who you love that's important" could be both profound and facile? If so, then let me say it again: this film's for you).

But most importantly, to me, is its insistence that self-referentiality is a viable storytelling technique, that the audience (assuming it is the right audience) will get the joke. It's the kind of movie where Kaufman (Cage) asks Kaufman (Cage) about how he plans to pull off a story where the serial killer, the kidnapped victim, and the cop are all the same person. "Camera tricks?" comes the hesitant reply (the camera tricks here, by the way, are seamless). It's the kind of movie that, on more than one occasion and from more than one source, decries the use of voice over narration in cinema, and yet uses voice over narration exhaustively and effectively (listen to the heartbreaking confessions that Kaufman makes over the opening credits and then try and tell me I'm wrong). It's the kind of movie that expects its audience to know the meaning of "deus ex machinas", and to appreciate the fact that the ending… well, that would be giving too much away, wouldn't it?

(I will say that the ending walks the fine line between self-parody and self-congratulation. If it hadn't worked, if the message being sent wasn't subtle yet distinct, then the art would turn to muck. But it does. All the right notes are hit, all the right lines are written, all the right tears are shed, and all the right performances are given.)

Charlie Kaufman, the screenwriter of "Adaptation" not the protagonist of "Adaptation", does a wonderful job keeping all his narrative balls in the air. He does have some trouble maintaining a balance between the time given the Kaufman/Kaufman story and the Orlean/Laroche story. But still, despite the fact that he's weaving multiple inter-connected tales that take place 3 (and sometimes 9, and sometimes -- literally -- 4,000,000,040) years apart, the internal logic of the narrative never falters, and an audience willing to play along will never left confused or bored.

Spike Jonze, who also helmed "Being John Malkovich", now has two perfectly-achieved Kaufman scripts under his belt as director. "Adaptation" is a much sunnier picture than "Malkovich" was, but Jonze shows that he is just as adept in the daytime as he is at night, and just as adept with the beautiful and delicate Ghost Orchids as he is with old-school marionettes. Jonze, a master of wildly inventive shots (honed during his days directing Beastie Boys and Weezer videos), plays his cards relatively close to the chest here. Sure, there's the trickery of having Cage act with himself in some scenes, and one sequence that condenses the history of the world into a minute-long take of time-lapse photography, but Jonze' real strength is handling the complex story (except for a somewhat lackluster middle-third), manipulating the tone, and getting solid performances from all his actors.

Nicholas Cage has spent much of the past seven years, since winning the Oscar for "Leaving Las Vegas", cashing paycheques in a series of Bruckheimer and Schumacher and Woo crap-a-thons. Only the longest memory will recall that he was once a risk-taking young actor, doing absurd and chancy turns in "Raising Arizona", "Moonstruck", and "Peggy Sue Got Married". His performance(s) in "Adaptation" harkens back to those glory days with aplomb. Sporting a balding wig, a barrel gut, and a stooped-over gait (for both Kaufmans), Cage essays not one but two complex and captivating characters. Charlie is the tortured genius, burdened with a mess of insecurities and little confidence. His character captures the heartache and pain and second-guessing of an introverted person in excruciating detail. He is dominated by his own ego (by definition: the organized conscious mediator between the person and reality esp. by functioning both in the perception and adaptation to reality). Donald, on the other hand and like Laroche, is a raving id. But unlike Laroche, who is smart enough to see the world for what it is and react against it, Donald is an idiot man-child lacking any sense of good taste or self-awareness (until…). Cage gets both men just right, a Herculean task considering that he has no one to act off except himself in many a scene.

Meryl Streep's Susan is a smaller and less complex role than what Cage has to deal with. For most of the film, at least. In the beginning all she really has to do is portray repressed loneliness and longing. Easy stuff for Mad Dog Meryl. But as the film charges towards its invigorating finale, Streep becomes a well-positioned character. It is through her that many of the film's denouncements of thriller conventions flow through. Streep, to her credit, doesn't become just a device. She is still able to play the reality (and comedy) of those last few scenes.

My movie-going companions and I figured that if "The Orchid Thief" were adapted straight, turned into a by-the-book Hollywood "chick flick", Harrison Ford, rugged and sly, might have played Laroche (that is if Ford had figured out that the time in his career when he should be playing character parts is certainly upon him). But Chris Cooper gets the role here, and he is damn perfect in it. Cooper's got Laroche's charisma, his self-confidence, and his sh!t-eating grin down pat. The screen lights up whenever Cooper is on it, but he also manages to play the cooler scenes with pathos and compassion to spare. Laroche could have been a one-trick pony in another actor's hands, someone who was lured in by the hick accent and the greasy hair and the homespun wisdom. But Cooper gets at the real man inside Laroche, and brings him out for all to see. And sure, he's darned funny too.

The film's background is populated by a wonderful cast of character actors. Ron Livingstone tears the roof off his role as Kaufman's slick agent (another raving id there). Tilda Swinton is cool and calculating as a studio exec. Brian Cox chews scenery like it were potatoe chips as a screenwriting guru. Maggie Gyllenhaal is just one big bright smile as Donald's adoring girlfriend. And "Being John Malkovich" alumni John Cusack and Catherine Keener turn up as, well, John Cusack and Catherine Keener.

"Adaptation's a profound process," says Laroche at one point. He's talking about bees who pollinate flowers, without ever knowing that they are part of a complex evolutionary practice. But he could also be talking about how we as humans learn (or fail to learn) how to survive in our environments. Or, he could be talking about "Adaptation" the film, which uses every tool it has to process the profundity of its concept. It's a thrilling little flick that will most likely bore the masses, but will have thoughtful cinephiles caught in rapt attention throughout, and cheering madly at its end.

Recommended: Yes