Review of Me and You and Everyone We Know (2005) by Claire B — 28 Dec 2008

"Me and You and Everyone We Know" is exactly what an independent film should be. It's artsy but not pretentious, daring but not offensive, and sophisticated yet almost naive in it's narrow-minded view of the world. Although the film is at times a bit meandering, writer/director Miranda July deals with fascinating subjects and it makes for an extremely insightful two hours.

I could see a lot of people being offended by this film, and it almost upsets me. There is a lot of sexual content with minors involved - one pre-pubescent boy helps a much older woman exercise her sexual fantasies in cyberspace, and another adult man leaves dirty notes on his window about what he'd like to do to the two teenage girls he had previously met. It's important to note that this material isn't disgusting, it's funny. And more importantly, it's very realistic. The child copies and pastes just about any sexual word he doesn't know (poop seems to be the only word he is confident in spelling), and the adult's reaction when the teenage girls are ready and willing is so truthful that it'll make you both wince and chuckle. This is a film that is unafraid of taking risks because Miranda July is so astute with her observations and charmingly profound in her outlook on life.

Richard (John Hawkes) is a shopping mall shoe salesman who is recently divorced. He has partial custody of his two children, six-year-old Robby (Brandon Ratcliff) and teenager Peter (Miles Thompson). In one of his first acts in the film, he sets his hand ablaze in an effort to win their affection. "Darn", he thought, it was rubbing alcohol that burns up without burning you. His hand remains bandaged the rest of the film.

The other main character is his pursuing love interest, Christine (writer/director Miranda July). She, a performance artist, is working on completing a sort of variety show video to submit to a modern art museum. Christine and Richard eventually meet, and go as far as fantasizing their entire life together on one walk down a street that seems like a scene right out of a Richard Linklater film.

The two adult leads are incredibly charming and refreshing. However, it's the children that are remarkable. Brandon Ratcliff, who spends the majority of the film discussing poop with an aroused internet friend, is both adorable and entirely human. The scene near the end where he finally confronts his online friend is one of the sweetest things I have seen on film in quite some time. Miles Thompson, who has a very awkward yet wonderful scene with two teenager girls practicing oral sex on him, has a constant look of bordem that reflects how relentless and confusing his stage of life is.

If you're a fan of writer/director Todd Solondz, this is certainly for you. In content, it's sexual situations are remarkably similar, and July's writing is also not far off. There's a scene with a goldfish on a car that's doomed to die, and I almost saw it as fitting right into "Palindromes". The goldfish never had a chance and it's destiny was set, much like many of the characters in this film (like the girl with the "hope ches") have mapped their entire lives out for themselves.

"Me and You and Everyone We Know" is so charming because of it's bubbly outlook on life and it's tight embrace on weirdness. All the characters in this film do things that would be completely unrational for an adult mind. This quirkiness actually feels authentic, unlike many similar small budget indie films who desperately try to appeal to that twenty-first century hipster crowd. There are some uneven moments here and there, and sometimes I felt like it was trying to say too much - but as a first effort, Miranda July's film is incredibly refreshing. We need more films just like this one.