Me and You and Everyone We Know
April 2nd 2009 03:07
Miranda July’s 2005 feature length debut is truly a breath of fresh air. Even if not a radical departure from the quirky offbeat sensibilities showcased by many other independent directors, there’s a dreamy, otherworldly quality that sets the artist’s film apart from the crowd, not the least its daring flirtation with taboo topics, somehow seperating comedic strands from their potential for provocation.
Me and You and Everyone We Know is July’s baby; she’s writer, director and star, though this a true ensemble piece, the focus wisely spread around to encompass a slew of interesting characters searching for clues on which to stake their elusive identities, and whose lives become interconnected – in sometimes very peculiar ways!
July is Christine, a performance artist with a silly streak, seeking validation of her work whilst driving a cab for aged people to earn a living. She feels a vague attraction to recently separated Richard (John Hawkes), a shoe salesman now burdened with his two kids, teenaged Peter (Miles Thompson) and 6 year old brother Robby (Brandon Ratcliff). They seem destined to find a connection but the path they take is an unconventional one filled with July’s quirky touches in the sometimes defiantly oddball slant of her dialogue and wry observations of life’s minutiae.
The sexual awakening of Peter and Robby, with a couple of local girls and via the internet respectively, has the potential to push the boundaries of taste but ends up providing some of the funniest moments. The best of which, perhaps, is the wordless meeting of Robby and a lonely woman (who features momentarily in Christine’s life) he chats with on the net, swapping childish, degrading desires. In July’s hands, a moment of extreme awkwardness becomes something perfect and transformative.
Her fringe characters are equally compelling with Richard’s co-worker’s goading of the sexually curious teenage girls, through suggestive notes he tacks to his front window, providing an amusing diversion from the tentative probing that keeps Christine and Richard apart, but ever more curious, for much of the film.
Thankfully free of sentimentality, July’s strength is in finding a truthfulness in the eccentricities of ordinary people, some arty visual touches playing to her idiosyncratic strengths, whilst the dreamy escalation of Michael Andrews’ score only places further emphasis on the film’s exultant randomness.
There’s no tightly-constructed narrative core to Me and You and Everyone We Know but the looseness of July’s writing allows her comedic gifts to shine. It's like the poetry of simplicity, evoking the power of an almost magical transcendence in many scenes. July’s is a fresh, unique perspective, untainted by commercial considerations - something a generation of aspiring filmmakers would sacrifice a limb for in an attempt to stand out from the overpopulated independent scene.
Me and You and Everyone We Know is July’s baby; she’s writer, director and star, though this a true ensemble piece, the focus wisely spread around to encompass a slew of interesting characters searching for clues on which to stake their elusive identities, and whose lives become interconnected – in sometimes very peculiar ways!
July is Christine, a performance artist with a silly streak, seeking validation of her work whilst driving a cab for aged people to earn a living. She feels a vague attraction to recently separated Richard (John Hawkes), a shoe salesman now burdened with his two kids, teenaged Peter (Miles Thompson) and 6 year old brother Robby (Brandon Ratcliff). They seem destined to find a connection but the path they take is an unconventional one filled with July’s quirky touches in the sometimes defiantly oddball slant of her dialogue and wry observations of life’s minutiae.
The sexual awakening of Peter and Robby, with a couple of local girls and via the internet respectively, has the potential to push the boundaries of taste but ends up providing some of the funniest moments. The best of which, perhaps, is the wordless meeting of Robby and a lonely woman (who features momentarily in Christine’s life) he chats with on the net, swapping childish, degrading desires. In July’s hands, a moment of extreme awkwardness becomes something perfect and transformative.
Her fringe characters are equally compelling with Richard’s co-worker’s goading of the sexually curious teenage girls, through suggestive notes he tacks to his front window, providing an amusing diversion from the tentative probing that keeps Christine and Richard apart, but ever more curious, for much of the film.
Thankfully free of sentimentality, July’s strength is in finding a truthfulness in the eccentricities of ordinary people, some arty visual touches playing to her idiosyncratic strengths, whilst the dreamy escalation of Michael Andrews’ score only places further emphasis on the film’s exultant randomness.
There’s no tightly-constructed narrative core to Me and You and Everyone We Know but the looseness of July’s writing allows her comedic gifts to shine. It's like the poetry of simplicity, evoking the power of an almost magical transcendence in many scenes. July’s is a fresh, unique perspective, untainted by commercial considerations - something a generation of aspiring filmmakers would sacrifice a limb for in an attempt to stand out from the overpopulated independent scene.
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Comment by Matt Shea
20/20 Filmsight
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic
I've actually never seen much of John Hawkes before this......................... ..well, only the horse trainer!
He's very impressive though and a brilliant match for Miranda July, somehow they make a perfect couple. Deadwood is one of those shows I've always wanted to see but never got around to!
Comment by Matt Shea
20/20 Filmsight
Yeah, look, I don't want seem to be one of the piles of people who go nuts over Deadwood. It's really good, but not the piece of genius that a lot of peeps will have you believe. Still worth checking out, but it's no The Wire.
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic
Comment by Matt Shea
20/20 Filmsight
Comment by Cibbuano
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Comment by Postmodern Critic
Postmodern Critic
Relativity Watch
Padsoc
You are situating quirky, offbeat sensibilities as undesirable?
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic
PMC - no, just the opposite, I'm all for displaying quirky, offbeat sensibilities in film. I just meant that there's been a lot of self-consciously quirky independant films in recent years which aren't quite up to scratch. On the surface at least, this might seem like another one to be thrown into that same mix but, like Juno and a few others, is thankfully far superior!
Comment by Postmodern Critic
Postmodern Critic
Relativity Watch
Padsoc