Movie Notes: Me And You And Everyone We Know

February 3rd, 2008

Me and You and Everyone We Know

= 3 stars

Starring Miranda July, John Hawkes
Directed by Miranda July

Amazon link

Remember the artsy chick from college who had her own style, did things independently without any care to what others thought, and had a cute yet polite sense of humor garnered from too many pretend tea parties as a kid? You know the one; she had her own ‘zine, wrote poetry, sang in a band, and didn’t have a boyfriend in order to to focus on her art. Well, she made a film called Me And You And Everyone We Know.

While watching this movie, I’ll admit that at times I felt confused, uncomfortable, and was witnessing things a bit too sweet or brazenly honest. But in the days after I found myself pondering much of it. I’ve concluded it’s about children trying to act like adults and adults trying to act like children. Both groups don’t really know (or remember) how to do either, and as a result surreal confusion, uncomfortable situations, and occasional hilarity ensues. It also captures some basic truths about aging.

There’s a point in most adults’ lives when they tire of playing grown-up and long to relive their youth, usually in socially acceptable areas: sports, on vacation, through romance, or in the bedroom. Some are unable to compartmentalize this yearning. For children, there’s a sense that fun and games are going to be over as they move into adulthood and the result is fear which cannot be revealed. Teens (and sometimes into their twenties) therefore try to act much more worldly and knowledgeable than is necessary.

This concept is summed up in the first scenes, as shoe salesman Richard (John Hawkes) lights his arm on fire in a futile attempt to impress his kids. Such extreme behavior is warranted in his mind, as he worrys about being a non-involved father. The two boys, on the other hand, have that glazed over, bored teenager look. The result: Dad is outside, flailing a burning arm around while the kids stare blankly. From here, it’s pretty clear this film will be uniquely interesting.

We then meet Christine (Miranda July), an introverted artist who creates precocious short videos featuring dolls and dioramas in the safety of her bedroom. A video artist herself, July has a presence that is quirky and self-aware, and physically resembles a middle sister between Catherine Keener and Maggie Gyllenhaal. Christine meets Richard in a typical boy-meets-girl way, no different than any other romantic comedy, but this one plays out in a surreal fashion with truly unique and original landmarks.

The children in Me and You and Everyone We Know do things that make grownups uncomfortable only because we know the full implications of their behavior, while they remain blissfully unaware. Two teenage girls flirt with an older man. A kid participates in a bizarre internet chat with a stranger. The two girls play a teenage “kissing” game that thankfully doesn’t devolve into an orgy because nobody knows what to do. The result is a confusing, at times uncomfortable mix of awkwardness, discovery, and fear that’s equal parts The Office and Sideways. But it’s all presented with an openness and a willingness to go where the characters dictate.

A good example is when Christine, alone, voices her desperation in her car at blowing an opportunity. She takes out a pen and writes it on her windshield. It’s a surprising moment, but one that makes perfect sense for her character and has implications far beyond its surface simplicity. She acts out in a “performance art” manner that she feels safe in, yet it’s painfully obvious that nobody’s will notice this outburst, especially not the person to whom the message is intended. But isn’t this an eternal question about art: Can an artist with no audience still call themselves an artist?

Another key moment is when the lonely museum curator (Tracy Wright) reaches the end of Christine’s tape and follows the instructions recorded there. Alone in the privacy of her screening room, she’s painfully self-aware, as if this behavior calls up something repressed over years of being a responsible adult. Or is she too aware of “the audience” and its ever-present eye making it difficult for her to even utter one word over the telephone? The film is full of tight, brave scenes like this.

Me And You And Everyone We Know is a film that I’m thankful for. It couldn’t have come from a studio or a team of hack screenwriters. It’s a greeting card from one person with a unique viewpoint, and combination of talents. I look forward to July’s next creation.

IMDB: Me And You And Everyone We Know
Wikipedia: Me And You And Everyone We Know
Rotten Tomatoes: Me And You And Everyone We Know 83%