Few cinematic experiences rival what is offered by Spike Jonze’s Charlie Kaufman-penned debut, Being John Malkovich. An altogether compelling and fantastical “metaphysical can of worms” about love, lust, and the concept of self, Being John Malkovich, to borrow a phrase from Bruce Springsteen describing Dylan’s “Like A Rolling Stone”, kicked open the door to my mind before I knew there was a door, a fitting image, too, given the prominence of doorways in Malkovich. What happens to each character once they crawl through the tiny doorway on the 7½ floor of the Mertin Flemmer Building and into the conscious mind of John Malkovich is different for everyone. Perpetually miserable puppeteer Craig Schwartz (John Cusack) rebounds from impotence, Craig’s wife, Lotte (a frumptacular Cameron Diaz), identifies as a transsexual, and Malkovich (in a hysterically meta performance as himself and those who inhabit him)? Let’s just say he goes on the ego trip to end all ego trips. Even 13 years later with Criterion’s high definition re-release, Jonze’s indie auteur camera maneuvers are fresh (the various inhabitations of Malkovich’s body and Maxine and Lotte’s scramble through his guilt-ridden subconscious are particularly masterful) and Kaufman’s writing is bizarre bordering on fetishistic which is enough to make you wonder how the hell Malkovich ever got made. Apropos, New Line Cinema chairman Bob Shay, upon being pitched the idea, famously dismissed it. “Being John Malkovich? Why the fuck can’t it be Being Tom Cruise?”