Me and You and Everyone We Know (review)
Ya gots yer indie movies that are self-consciously ‘hip’ and tediously self-aware and go to great lengths of easy oddity to avoid getting themselves labeled ‘mainstream,’ and in the process they end up like something that came off an assembly line of quirk, like you might find them in the Spencer Gifts at the mall where the nonconformist kids all flock to conform to one another. And then ya gots yer films that are truly art: uncomfortable in the incisiveness of their observations, aggressively attuned to the ordinary in such a way as to make you desperately wish they didn’t make you acknowledge how boring and depressing and lonely we all tend to be even when we’re pretending we aren’t.






