Me and You and Everyone We Know is a movie about human connections. It is a simultaneous waking up, while breaking down. It irreverently tackles the questions of closing the gaps in one’s life during’ transitional periods’ in life. This eccentric tale of intertwining experiences cleverly maneuvers through the highs and lows of picking oneself up by the bootstraps and achieving great things, big and small.
The central storyline is the romance between Christine Jesperson (Miranda July), a struggling performance artist who doesn’t quit her day job as a driver to senior citizens, and Richard Swersey (John Hawkes), a newly separated shoe salesman who recently set his hand on fire in a moment of panicked desperation. While the two seem well matched, they must (somewhat typically) overcome their fears that can often overshadow the joys of a potential relationship.
Me and You and Everyone We Know is an ensemble film in which all of the characters are somehow related even if their stories and subplots (of which there are many) are not directly connected. Richard’s sons, Peter (Miles Thompson) and Robby (Brandon Ratcliff), each find themselves in peculiar sexual situations. Fourteen-year-old Peter becomes a practice object for two of his classmates, who want to gain sexual experience. Robby, who is six, becomes involved online in a disturbing sexual discourse with a mysterious individual, which leads to an unexpected reveal at the movie’s end.
It is rare to come across a film so unwilling to make sacrifices just to be safe and inoffensive. Miranda July, who not only starred in but wrote and directed the film, is clearly committed from beginning to end to presenting her version of the universe.
Diving head first into issues varying from an innocent child’s ventures into the terrifying world of online intercourse to a man trying to move on with his life after a painful divorce, the film does not falter in creating a sense of being lost and helpless. But what is so bracing is that the sentiment of the characters, of this whole universe, is never hopeless.
Though the ideology of Me and You remains constant, the stream of consciousness does not, and it is easy to get lost while watching the film. Its major fault is that the points that the audience could probably infer for itself are constantly stated and restated by the characters while the undecipherable intentions of the characters are left up to impossible interpretation. This ultimately leaves the viewer with a sense of heavy-handedness from July.
The problems don’t stop there. At times, characteristics of the players such as the apparent hyper-innocence of Christine or Richard’s airy obliviousness come off as obtuse and contrived.
It seems to be either hit or miss with July. There are quite a few missed marks throughout the film. However, when she gets it, she really gets it. When she finds a balance between quirkiness and depth, July is chillingly on point. There are a handful instances in the film when the characters will say or do something that intensely embodies the perspective of an individual experiencing a powerful change. Ultimately, despite its faults, Me and You and Everyone We Know is a strong first full-length feature attempt and, more often than not, a moving portrayal of the mundane and outrageous search for human understanding amidst all the mayhem.
