Two weary souls are making their way through life. One of them is Richard (John Hawkes), who has recently separated from his wife and has to share custody with their two sons (Miles Thompson and Brandon Ratcliff), who are wayward young men who are distant from their father, who is struggling to come to terms with being a single parent. The other is Christine (Miranda July), a performance artist who dabbles in making experimental videos, in which she uses her imagination to narrate conversations between individuals in photographs she encounters in her day to day life. This line of work doesn’t sustain her, so while she’s waiting for her breakthrough, she makes her living working for “ElderDrive”, a service directed towards senior citizens who are unable to drive but still want to live vibrantly, visiting any array of strip malls and department stores. Her favourite regular is Michael (Hector Elias), a reserved old man who is lamenting the fact that he met the love of his life seventy years too late, and the finite nature of existence starts to get to him, as he realizes his own mortality. Love is something neither Richard nor Christine have on their minds, having much bigger priorities – this is only until they meet one day when they find themselves falling deeply in love with the other, seeing something beautiful in their shared loneliness and coming to terms with the fact that life is full of surprises, and you might just meet the person you’ve been waiting for at the most inopportune or unexpected moment.

Whether or not she’s willing to admit it, Miranda July is undeniably one of the most important independent filmmakers working today, a voice in arthouse American cinema that has made an impression and stood as a firm representation of the joy that can come when giving someone the creative freedom to go in their own direction and realize their unique vision, as abstract as it may be. Moreover, in talking of abstraction, no one embodies the spirit of making their strange vision tangible quite like July, whose work, whether in film, performance art or writing, have painted a portrait of an artist who has never been one to abide by the rules, and who is willing to go to any lengths to explore her own artistic curiosities, which manifest in some of the most poignant and beautifully absurd works of contemporary independent cinema. What is even more surprising that that July achieved this through one film – Me and You and Everyone We Know – which became such a sensation upon its release, it stands as one of the definitive, cornerstone works in the current era of independent filmmaking, one where the illusion of logic is dismantled in favour of a more offbeat but no less compelling work. Perhaps her masterpiece, this film is one of the most effective comedies of its era – hilariously funny, heartbreakingly sad and, above everything else, inextricably human, quaint in form but truly meaningful in the depths it is willing to plunge in favour of conveying the director’s offbeat, but extraordinarily meaningful, version of the world around her, and a chance for July to establish herself as an artistic force of nature, while never abandoning the quirks that made her so distinctively herself throughout her career that truly defines the concepts of quality superseding quantity, and showing immense promise as a cinematic visionary right from the start of her career.

At first glance, Me and You and Everyone We Know seems to be treading familiar waters – the two central characters are a shoe salesman and a driver for the elderly, where their only common ground is their shared loneliness. We’ve seen films like this before, and on a purely narrative level, the premise isn’t all that impressive and could be seen as somewhat derivative. However, we need to consider how July isn’t merely a filmmaker – she’s an artist in the purest sense of the word, insofar as her career has always been concerned with taking what is familiar and repurposing it to have an entirely new meaning, from which some insightful explorations of deeper issues can be had, in ways that would not have previously been possible had they not been evoked by a filmmaker whose entire career has really been defined by pushing boundaries without proclaiming her own revolutionary talents. Her humility as a filmmaker, when taken in conjunction with her abstract sensibilities and penchant for the puzzling (but deeply meaningful) makes Me and You and Everyone We Know an exceptionally fascinating portrait that takes us on a journey deep into the lives of its main characters, guiding us tenderly along the way as we try to find our footing and see the world in an entirely new light, as facilitated by one of the most original voices in contemporary cinema, someone who may not be to everyone’s taste, but who fashions heartfelt works such as Me and You and Everyone We Know, which are simply too brilliant to ignore.

Me and You and Everyone We Know is a film about loneliness, and July does exceptionally well in bringing this story to life, creating a varied tapestry of lives that interweave, focusing on the different individuals that are associated by mere proxy – neighbours, co-workers or even just strangers who interact for a brief moment. July isn’t known for her lucidity, especially not in this particular film, but unlike many of her peers that take on a more surreal approach to realism (creating a kind of modern New American magical realism), Me and You and Everyone We Know is free of all pretensions, put together with a sincerity driven by a filmmaker who isn’t taking a stream-of-consciousness approach to be different, but rather to explore her own curiosities, which we essentially witness in real time, watching as she takes on the role of both director and lead actress, figuring the art-form out while giving the audience invaluable insights into her creative process, without explicitly stating it. Me and You and Everyone We Know is tantamount to watching a painter compose the most beautiful portrait, with the other difference being that July is far more concerned with the inner beauty, focusing on the complexities of existence that are often ignored in favour of more plot-driven cinema. This film is mostly an attempt to create a compelling composition of the human condition, one that provides a brief but incredibly poignant glimpse into our varying quandaries, while remaining incredibly experimental and brutally honest in both its inspirations and overall intentions. It achieves something quite beautiful without outwardly stating its own genius, which may be its most accomplished merit.

What most viewers may not realize about Me and You and Everyone We Know is that this isn’t a work that purports to following any clear direction, persistent in its intentions to go its own way, and rather than slowing itself down to allow all of us to accompany it, it rather invites us on this journey and makes it known that it’s not going to be something we’d expect. A large part of the brilliance of this film comes in how we are essentially standing alongside the characters in these situations, with July constructing a meaningful set of individuals that populate the film and create this mosaic of modern existence. In this regard, Me and You and Everyone We Know has some astonishing performances – July herself is incredible, playing the part of a woman struggling to find her place in the world, with the director bringing so much of her own inner questions to the part, exploring them in tandem with the audience’s experience of watching her. Graceful but grounded within reality, July isn’t only a talented director, but a profoundly gifted actress at all – she brings an elegance to such an ordinary role, playing Christine with immense empathy and a lot of reserved humour that many of us can relate to in some way. The other half of the central duo is played by John Hawkes, who has always been severely underrated, particularly at this point in his career, where his slight frame and vaguely sinister aura made him a wonderful villain, but rarely gave him the chance to play a hero, something remedied in Me and You and Everyone We Know, which provides him with arguably his finest role to date. A man struggling to stay afloat after having his life changed by the end of his marriage, Hawkes’ Richard isn’t a particularly interesting character, but he’s an unquestionably real one – Hawkes has always thrived in playing his characters with great authenticity, and this film in particular shows his incredible control of character, while still allowing him the space to do something different, which is truly wonderful to witness, especially from one of the most criminally under-praised character actors working today.

Me and You and Everyone We Know is a wonderful film and stands as one of the better directorial debuts of the past two decades. It is a moment that allows a gifted artist to make her mark cinematically, and while July hasn’t necessarily been the most prolific in her role as one of the most interesting auteurs working today (having only directed two subsequent films, one of which is set for release this year), she achieves something that immediately places her into the pantheon of alternative cinema. This kind of stream-of-consciousness narrative may not always work very well for a lot of viewers, but this is ultimately inconsequential, since there is a method to this madness, with all the bewildering narrative threads converging into a series of climactic moments that are incredibly fascinating and truly compelling. The emotions that pulsate through Me and You and Everyone We Know are entirely authentic, with the director not neglecting to make what she’s depicting on screen seem entirely real and meaningful. This is a film that benefits from repeat viewings, where one is able to take a closer look into the small details infused so meticulously into every frame, engaging in a close reading that reveals even more incredible complexity to this astonishing portrait of human existence. It takes quite a substantial amount of effort to condense so much metaphysical commentary into a single work, so to not only manage this but create something effervescent and charming, void of all overwrought sentimentality, is further proof that Me and You and Everyone We Know is something very special.