ME AND YOU AND EVERYONE WE KNOW

When we are teenagers, many of us go through a period in which we see meaning in the tiniest of events. We feel emotions with a depth that shocks us. We use the word 'deep' without being ironic. We are unguarded and raw and awkward and we discover a level of living that we truly believe we are the first to recognize. Of course, we grow out of this phase. We become wiser, more jaded; we guard ourselves off. Unless, that is, we're Miranda July. The writer/director/star of 'Me And You And Everyone We Know,' at thirty-one years old, is a high schooler at heart, with both the good and bad that that label implies.

July's film is not only confidently directed; it has a unique, unwavering vision both visually and thematically. The film features incredibly believable child actors, comic book-like splashes of color in nearly every frame, original situations, truly touching moments, and a lilting, easy flow. On the downside, it (like a high schooler) can be treacly, overeaching in its desire to shock, and meandering. To say that the pros outweigh the cons here is an understatement.

Plot synopses don't work for a film of this sort. What happens in the story serves only as snapshots of a larger picture. When a woman buys shoes, it's a grasp at human connection. When a girl plays at feeding her friends as if they're birds, it's about dreams of order and control that we know will be shattered. When two teenagers practice their blowjob technique, it's about competition and friendship and adulthood and more. 'Me And You And Everyone We Know' is, in a word, about loneliness. In eighteen words, it's about how we'd better appreciate the tiny connections we're able to make, because they may be all we get. Given that, the fact that it is humorous and uplifting along with its melancholia is a major accomplishment.

YES (8/10)