I love this movie so much

Why so much hype?

Truly Dreadful Film

The performances transcend the film's tropes, grounding it in characters that feel more complete than this subgenre often produces.

Every now and then there are some films that make you sit up a little straighter and rewind at certain points, hardly believing your own ears. Me and You and Everyone We Know is one of those, a twisted, bizarre, romantic comedy and barely deserving of that latter label. It speaks the same playful language of whimsy that many similar indie flicks aspire to, and is shot with the same formal sparseness. But its characters, which are a reflection of Miranda July's overall views on the nature of communication and life, push past those generic markers. There is one scene of an ordinary conversation walking the street which many have highlighted, seeming plucked straight out of Richard Linklater's Before Trilogy, but beyond that the dialogue spills out from the character's mouths with little thought of inhibition. Yes, this could be initially perceived as overly stylised or stilted. Some might never be able to get past it. Yet it is undeniably refreshing to have a screenwriter not be shackled by age-old expectations of how a person should and must act in the company of others (strangers, usually in this case). Consider the early scene where July's filmic alter ego Christine is driving along with a man (who we later learn is a client, not a relative, of her taxi service for the elderly) and spot a goldfish and bag perching perilously on the roof of an open car. We have barely any time to assess the situation (or the goldfish's odds) before Christine immediately begins an impromptu postmortem, honouring the fish's brief but eventful life. Such a moment is almost impossible to capture sincerely, right down to the morbid tones of her eulogy, the droning soundtrack and the last fatal closeup, disappearing in a blur. You could imagine it as a bit on a sketch show, or the same overwrought scenario being played for cheap laughs in a comedy. But July manages to pull off the unthinkable, honing in on a very precise note of acute sensitivity and distress that is strangely touching. We're not laughing at her, but rather giggling at the absurdity of the situation, and how it brings out a flood of unexpected empathy. The rest of the film's territory has been covered before by Todd Solondz in various degrees of innocence and grotesqueness, although July reaches further. All around the film's vignettes are little triumphs of social faux pax, and the most delightful thing of all is how the film doesn't attempt to apologise for its content. Taken at face value, some of the interactions are icky. But that assumes that July is attempting to scrub away stigmas - she isn't. Rather, she's getting behind the back of these poor sods. They live in a Solondz movie, they walk straight out of a chirpier version of Mike Leigh's Bleak Moments. But rather than be suffocated by it, rather than be resigned to living out the rest of their lives like sad sacks, they go about their days with a wide-eyed curiosity that tells us they haven't been resigned to giving up. They still see the magic in the ordinary. It's as if no one has told them what kind of movie this is, and what they are and aren't allowed to do. Or how to act a certain way based on their past. No one told July either. It's brave of her to debut with this. The film isn't tonally inconsistent - just fighting expectations. Look, it's not perfect. The soundtrack gets a little old. The sound mixing is a bit wonky, meaning much of the dialogue goes straight to your ears and overpowers the rest of the ambient sound. And every now and again you might get the feeling that July uses the film as an extension of her own art, where it gets overly personal; the little jabs at the art community, and the overall impression of Christine. There's no real reason she has to be a performance artist, other than helping to set the mood of the opening. And the characterisations can be flimsy. The most egregious fault is the cold rejection from Richard in the car, just after the sidewalk scene. It is the utter antithesis of that final moment of brilliantly realised magical realism, where the entire universe sits in the palm of a child's imagination.

Indie flick lovers don't want to miss Me You and Everyone We Know (2005). Unknown Director and Writer Miranda July introduces Richard (played by the talented John Hawkins of Winter's Bone and The Sessions) and Christine (July) among several other unique and enriching characters whose own stories are as intriguing, relevant and compelling as the two leads. Me You and Everyone We Know is playful, whimsical and surprising - managing to keep your typical boy-meets-girl scenario interesting from beginning to end.At first, Richard's story comes second to that of his children. His two bi-racial sons (ages 13 and 6) are very close to each other, quiet and withdrawn. The two of them have become absorbed in unusual computer games and online chat rooms (likely coping mechanisms due to their parents recent separation). The situations the boys find themselves in are honest and real while also being slightly quirky and humorous. The youngest boy (Robby) is played by scene-stealing Brandon Ratcliff - whose character's delicate nature, curiosity and innocence are delightfully spotlighted in several funny and touching scenarios throughout the film. Richard is learning how to care and interact with his boys now on his own, in a whole new (and single) life when he crosses paths with Christine for the first time.Christine runs a shuttle service for the elderly and meets Richard (a humble shoe salesman) when she takes one of her clients out to get new sneakers. Even though the two of them only exchange a few sparse sentences, she's hooked and awkwardly seeks him out the following day. She lovingly stumbles through attempts at flirting and conversation making their journey all the more true and likable. Christine is also a contemporary artist and her work - full of love and poetry - help viewers learn more about her and move the plot forward in a unique way.Me You and Everyone We Know is clever and fresh with familiar movie characters that are crafted with surprising twists. It's an indie home-run bound to be a cult classic. Without giving too much away, viewers should watch this film just to find out the significance of the words, "Back and forth. Forever."

Not even for every fan of independent cinema. As others have pointed out, there are some discomfiting moments reminiscent of a Todd Solondz film (I'd also throw in Neil LaBute). Although ultimately, if you can maintain your composure during those discomfiting moments, this film is nowhere near as dark and bleak as a Solondz or LaBute film (just the opposite, really).Some reviewers mentioned turning it off after a few minutes. If you just watched the beginning, you might think the movie was just kind of an aimless example of the "quirk" genre of low budget indie cinema. There's definitely that element, but if you stick with it it really does transcend the quirk and get into genuine pathos, I promise.

I really loved this film! All the way from the beginning it surprised me at every scene, it was very funny and did not try to overdo its humor, and the characters are unforgettable. To be honest, so many expressions and individual ideas that are conveyed in this movie through its characters, it's kind of hard to pin point what I loved most. It is a sexual film, probably not suitable for the young, but it portrays people as they are, something that we find awkward and strange in this movie - they all exist around us in real life and this film is not afraid to show it. Ultimately we all look for love. In this film, even the strange moments are romantic.