Me, You and Everyone We Know - Review
Review by Jack Foley
THE debut film from performance artist, Miranda July, is an odd experience in that it consistently intrigues without ever really being satisfying.
Me, You and Everyone We Know is distinctly arthouse in feel and is as quirky as movies get – yet it also boasts some wonderfully individual moments and some great performances from an endearing cast.
July, herself, plays struggling artist, Christine, who spends most of her time hopelessly dreaming about romantic love.
During a trip to a department store she meets and falls in love with Richard (John Hawkes), a shoe salesman and recently-divorced father, who is perpetually frustrated by life’s disappointments.
Their ensuing relationship is interspersed with snippets from the lives of several people around them, including Richard’s two sons (Miles Thompson and Brandon Ratcliff), who are about to come of age themselves.
For the older son (played by Thompson), his sexual awakening comes courtesy of two horny Lolita-style girls, who also delight in tempting the neighbourhood’s would-be paedophile.
While for the younger son, his first experience of sex comes via an Internet chat room – the unseen participant of which could well be a predator.
July’s surreal film frequently tip-toes the dividing line between good and bad taste without ever over-stepping the mark – but it provides as many awkward laughs as it does straightforward ones.
Her scenes include a teenage blow-job contest, as well as some bizarre imagery (back and forth poo), yet the film as a whole retains a fantasy element that is hard to take too seriously.
Some of its observations on life are acutely observed, while others feel overly pretentious, making much of the film seem distanced.
Comparisons with the work of Todd Solondz are obvious.
But for those willing to give it a go, Me, You and Everyone We Know is a fascinating experience that should appeal to the quirky indie crowd.