Quirky, funny, charming, endearing and at times depressing, ‘Me and You and Everyone We Know’ follows several characters whose lives, knowingly or unknowingly, interconnect with each other. Each of the characters suffer from varying degrees of isolation and loneliness, all seeming to need someone in their lives to love and be loved in return. As far as a plot goes, it’s basically a slice of life film, following the various characters as they each go about their daily lives, with the main storyline within the film revolving around Christine, a part time taxi driver and performance artist, Richard a recently divorced shoe salesman, and their awkward and hampered relationship. Overall, if you like films by Todd Solondz or Wes Anderson which feature awkward characters and moments then ‘Me and You and Everyone We Know’ is well worth a look.
Me and You and Everyone We Know is one of those films that feels like it's trying to hug you while also asking you to consider the metaphysics of online chat. Miranda July's debut is not just fragile, funny, and deeply awkward, but it also carries a unique tone that is both endearing and odd.
The characters inhabit a world of broken speech and hopeful glances, where a connection is yearned for but rarely achieved. Amidst this, the film presents moments of genuine beauty — poetic and strange. However, there are also a few scenes that feel like performance art assignments turned into dialogue.
However, beneath the quirk, there's a disarmingly sincere exploration of loneliness and human connection. July's unique tone, if you can tune into it, offers a gentle, melancholic look at the weird ways we try to reach each other. It's not quite a love story, but more like a polite wave from across the void.
This is a self-consciously kooky story of a hesitant love affair between a rather weird couple and their circle of equally weird pals. There are a lot of awkward pauses, some extremely solemn children and a constant backing track of dreamy plinky-plonky keyboard to remind you what kind of film you are watching just in case you thought you’d stumbled across a quiet patch of “Reservoir Dogs.” I lost patience with most of the characters after about twenty minutes and started to admire the sunsets. Once the lead character makes a film within a film starring her shoes, you pretty much know what to expect. “I’m just passing the time” explains another character. Not my time, you’re not. Click.