the Loneliness of Macaroni

ME AND YOU AND EVERYONE WE KNOW (2005)

THE LONELINESS OF MACARONI

Jack Kerouac once wrote,” The only people for me are the mad ones—the ones who are mad to live—mad to talk—mad to be saved—desirous of everything at the same time—the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing—but burn, burn, burn—like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars—and in the middle you see the blue center light pop—and everybody goes,’Awww!’ “

Miranda July, aka Miranda Grossinger, is one of these people. Creativity bursts from her every orifice. She was born in 1974. Her parents are Berkeley publishers of New Age and Eco-Friendly books. Her father is heir to the famous Catskills eatery—Grossinger’s. She grew up in a world of liberal politics, literary influences, and metaphysics. All of this seemed to supercharge multiple aspects of her creativity. In 1999, she dropped out of UC Santa Cruz and moved to Portland , Oregon . She soon became a “performance artist”—a one woman show. She began touring the country—and then the world—doing multimedia performances—alone or with musical accompaniment. She performs “live”, and uses recordings and video in her presentation.

July said,” I was raised with this fear of fakeness—this fear that I might become fake. But what is fake? You know—I’m fighting against the intellectualism I came from. I want to make my way “In” the world. Like the bird picture in the tree at the end [of this film—a large framed photograph of a bird in a tree—placed in a tree.] Does fake really matter if we’re really able to connect? Beauty? It’s such a misnomer for what I do in performance—which is actually much closer to the movie than people imagine. My performances are very dialogue-heavy—they’re pretty narrative. They have somewhat more abstract elements—and I’m usually performing more than one part—but they are linear and have some wealth of detail.”

One of my favorite performance artists was Spalding Gray—or perhaps he was more a storyteller—but if so—he was a great one. Anyway—I would watch and listen to him for hours. I was very sad to read that he had committed suicide. I had assumed that his repetitive motif on the pain of loneliness and depression was just his schtick. So his death was shocking—as if suddenly we found out that Woody Allen had blown his face off with a shotgun because someone in “Elaine’s” had disrespected him or criticized his work. Miranda July is certainly a multimedia and visual artist—but she is also a writer, actress, storyteller, musician, producer, collaborator—and now a feature film director.

July once said,” To me it is all one medium—all one voice inside me. The mediums—performances, short stories, radio plays, and music—are just the voice paired with different sides of me. Part of me loves technical invention—and will spend months coming up with ways to interact with video on stage. But other parts of me think that is boring and just wants to be on that stage. But I am also shy—and might just want to write a story in my room and not have to deal with anyone. And the part of me that makes movies is thinking big—and wants to be in conversation with the whole world.”

She started out in the late 90’s doing her performances in Seattle , Olympia , and Portland . Several of her short stories can be read in THE PARIS REVIEW, and THE HARVARD REVIEW—but considering her new notoriety—they will soon be printed in book form. Pacific Northwest Indie music labels have put out albums of her work. She wrote ARE YOU THE FAVORITE PERSON OF ANYBODY? Her radio performances—like THE LOVE DIAMOND and THE SWAN TREE-- are carried on National Public Radio’s THE NEXT BIG THING. Her multimedia performances have been presented at the Institute of Contemporary Art in London , and at THE KITCHEN in NYC. Her short films—like NEST OF TENS, THE AMATEURIST, HAYSHA ROYKO, and GETTING STRONGER EVERY DAY—have screened internationally at Guggenheim museums. With her debut feature film, ME AND YOU AND EVERYONE WE KNOW (2005)—she was shown at Sundance—and the film won a special jury prize for “Originality of Vision.” At Cannes this year, she won four prizes—including the Camera d’Or. FILMMAKER Magazine rated her at #1 in their “25 New Faces in Indie Film” for 2004.

Ella Taylor of LA WEEKLY wrote,” It’s a wonderfully strange new film—a slyly crafted yet charmingly accessible romantic comedy. Still—it wasn’t July’s craft that moved audiences at Sundance—or the ecstatic French teens and old men who rushed to pay homage at Cannes . More likely—it’s her articulation of the inner and the outer lives of ordinary people in the modern age.”

Anais Nine wrote,” We don’t see things as they are—we see them as we are.”

July as Christine Jesperson has created an unforgettable character—part autobiographical—and part whimsy. Her Christine is bursting to be recognized as a performance artist—and as a woman and a person. July has created a persona lodged somewhere between a young Mary Tyler Moore and Shelly Duvall—quirky, naïve, deeply caring, lonely, confrontational, original—gorgeous, yet still somewhat clunky. In every scene she appeared in we found ourselves riveted to the screen—not knowing what she would say or do next. It will be interesting to see what kind of a film project she will follow this one with. I feel that she wrote Christine to be self-effacing—like a female Woody Allen—and she fused just enough of her real self into the fabric of the character—that the dialogue vibrated with humor, sadness, and compassion.

July was quoted as saying,” You know—it’s funny—as a woman filmmaker—I did sense when I was pitching the movie, and trying to come up with the financing—that there might have been a little prejudice there. Probably many of them were passing on it because of its lack of stars—but I didn’t want stars in it. [The film was shot in 24 days for around 1 million dollars in Van Nuys, Ca.] While making the movie—it all seemed normal. I was the Director—of course—it’s my world. But once it was done—and I got to Sundance—and I was one of only two women directors out of 16 movies in competition—then I was kind of stunned. Sexism is everywhere—but in ways people don’t like to talk about because they’re all struggling to move up. So it seems something’s got to change—but I don’t know what or how.”

Jean Oppenheimer of EAST BAY EXPRESS wrote,” This film overcame its irritating star—who is a fine director but lousy actress. An audience and critical favorite—its appeal is unmistakably a mystery. As an actress, July is annoying as hell—with quirkiness so labored that she accomplishes nothing so much as begging for our attention. Her own self-regard is never in doubt. So pronounced is her narcissism—that it borders on psychological exhibitionism. [Christ—this analysis disrespects and denounces the comic genius of the Marx Brothers, Jack Benny, and a plethora of others down to Rodney Dangerfield.] July—the writer—is interested—make that fixated—on the emerging sexuality of children. While July’s attention on sexual matters seems a bit extreme [At the screening I was at, several older couples walked out of the theatre in shocked disgust—with their lips so pursed they hissed as they walked sounding like snakes. Perhaps some geriatrics are ill-prepared for such frankness—albeit presented tastefully.]—yet perhaps it’s an accurate reflection of today’s culture. Certainly, kids today are exposed to things—chat rooms, X-rated websites (violence, nudity, and vulgarity in many movies and much of their “music”) that earlier generations were not.”

Relative to the “sexual” themes in certain scenes, Roger Ebert wrote,” I know this sounds perverse and explicit—and yet the fact is these scenes play off with an innocence and tact—that is beyond all explaining. They are about what an embarrassment and curiosity sex is when you’re old enough to know it exists—but too young to know how it’s done—and what it’s for.”

Miranda July wrote,” The DP was Chuy Chavez. I could not have done it without him. He emphasized to me that whatever the camera was doing was secondary to what needed to happen with the actors. He was quick—like lightning—and he made it look incredible. I couldn’t have had a better Director of Photography for my first experience.”

The cinematography was done by Chuy Chavez, aka Jesus Chavez. He has been head lenser on 16 films since 1996, most of them Mexican and Hispanic—films like STAR MAPS (1997), and CHUCK AND BUCK (2000). He is considered one of Mexico ’s premier cinematographers. He shot July’s film with High Def Cinema’s HJ11x4.7B lenses. He stated,” I wanted the widest lens possible to capture Miranda’s unique take on contemporary life. With a prime lens zooming in is a cumbersome and time-consuming task. I would have to get the right stock—get the right lens—and then switch lenses. But with the Canon HD lenses—this all becomes very easy. I can zoom in—get the shot—and since it’s video—we can just keep rolling.”

James Berardinelli of REEL VIEWS wrote,” Today, it is increasingly rare that we see a film with this kind of quiet depth and poetic soul escape from the film festival circuit—and enter general distribution. It is truly “Independent”—which is to say off beat, daring, and the kind of experience Hollywood will never come close to offering. The film is not for everyone. The narrative wanders elliptically—never taking a straight line to its ultimate destination. The tone is slow and poetic—not frenetic. Most movies are too long. This one (at 90 minutes) is too short. The characters—even the minor ones—are vividly drawn. When the film comes to a close—we want to spend more time with them—interested in seeing the next chapter of their lives. But there is no clear resolution—just hopeful clues. This keeps us thinking about the movie for days—usually the mark of a successful movie.”

I liked July’s script—and her writing in general—but I would agree that we did not get enough back story on her character—Christine. Why was she alone? What was her family like? How successful had her career as a performance artist been? Was the museum showing her inaugural effort? In the scenes where she put on the Elder Cab placards on her car doors—and drove geriatrics—why did we only see her driving one client—the interesting Hector Elias as Michael? Perhaps a brief montage of several other clients or riders would have fleshed out that part of the plot. In a way, July only gave us several thin slices of life—with very little explication. Characters just appeared—fully realized, but mysterious—and their circumstances were extant but not explicated. I did find it kind of refreshing that no big deal was made of Richard’s “mixed” marriage. His wife, who was black—was just treated as a beautiful enigma. Her color was never a focus. The only mention of the unique quality of the marriage was done by the 10 year old Sylvie.

Sylivie: [To Peter] I know you. Your Dad is a white guy—and you have a little brother.

Norm Schrager of FILMCRITIC.COM wrote,” As an actress, Miranda July is bold and endearing—as a filmmaker, she has a firm sense of timing and flow; her real strength though—is as a writer. Her set-ups could easily be short story work shop moments—but with solid character development and shockingly funny dialogue that creates something bigger --something with equal parts tension, awkwardness, and heart. Sort of like Todd Solondz—minus the anger and resentment.

Anita Katz of the SAN FRANCISCO EXAMINER wrote,” Zany, absurdist, off-the-wall funny—this film is a rare quirky Indie flick that contains not only crowd pleasing eccentricity—but also an underlying humanity that is distinctive and generous enough to entrance you.
The film is a bit slight. July doesn’t deeply explore her protagonist’s driving loneliness. Some characters—like the museum curator with hidden kink—deserved more dimension. But it still delivers a heady mélange of loneliness, romance, friendship, and a kind of loopiness that often characterizes people’s attempt to click. July’s oddball brand of humanism yields marvelous stuff.”

John Hawkes played Richard Sweeney—the very sad shoe salesman who was valiantly struggling with his recent divorce—and shared custody of his two young sons. He seemed to be wrestling with powerful guilt demons—and his anger was always just below the surface.

Richard: Do I look well to you guys?

When they didn’t answer—he got an odd look on his face—went out into the back yard and lit his left hand on fire. As the flames began to burn him, he had a tough time putting them out. He had doused his hand with lighter fluid. He mentioned later that his uncle used to light his hand on fire all the time just to entertain the children—but then he remembered that the uncle had always used rubbing alcohol. This tragic mistake was indicative of Richard’s state of mind. He had to wear a bandage on his hand for weeks after.

Hawkes tapped into the depths of this man’s despair—and we witnessed both the pain and the pushed cheerfulness in his eyes. Miranda July wrote,
“ John Hawkes—I knew he was perfect the moment I saw him—but we couldn’t change the way he looked. His hair and beard had to be kept the same as it is on HBO’s DEADWOOD. I was kind of bummed by it—but clearly it was part of the deal. He was both charming and a bit frightening to me—a little scary. This made our scenes together have more “life” in them.”

In the movie, when Christine was flirting with Richard—while he was at work—she walked with him for a time—down a long block on the way back to their vehicles. She started them off playing a lovely mind game—that the length of that one block represented their lifetime together—in a pretend relationship. It was a very creative concept that has never been used in a film before—charming, funny, and touching.

Christine: How did you hurt your hand?
Richard: I was trying to save my life—but it didn’t work.

Roger Ebert wrote further,” That scene where they walk down the block and suddenly pretend it represents their whole lives, and their relationship, was terrific. It is impossible to suggest how poetic this scene is—and when it’s over—you think that was a perfect scene—and no other scene could ever be like it.”

After the couple reluctantly separated at the end of that block, as Richard is slowly pulling out in his car—Christine just appeared, like she had been waiting for him—opened his passenger door and planted herself in the car. The look on her face was mischievous and self-satisfied. Richard turned to her, and angrily asked,” What are you doing in my car?” His flare of temper in response to her aplomb—left her stunned, almost devastated. She had not expected that response—and neither had we. She immediately got out and exited without a word.

John Hawkes, aka John Perkins, has had 44 film appearances since 1987. I liked him as Groom in FLESH AND BONE (1993) with James Caan, as Flick in PLAYING GOD (1997) with David Ducovney, and the lovelorn Bugsy in THE PERFECT STORM (2000). He was Marty in Spielbergs TV mini-series, TAKEN (2002), and now he is working on his third season as Sol Star on the HBO series, DEADWOOD. He’s had 27 guest shots on episodic television—like NORTHERN EXPOSURE (1992), MILLENNIUM (1996), X-FILES (1999), and two 24’s (2001). In Austin , Texas , Hawkes founded the Big State Productions Theatre Company. He starred in a national touring company production of GREATER TUNA—playing multiple comic roles. He wrote and performed a critically acclaimed solo play, NIMROD SAIL at the Improv Theatre. He currently writes, records, and plays with his band, GANGSTER FOLK—joining the Hollywood ranks of Kevin Bacon, Russell Crowe, and Keanu Reeves. In 2004, he participated in a Sundance Film lab—teaching alongside Ed Harris and Stanley Tucci. Miranda July attended a Director’s lab there—and they might have met.

This film is rated “R”—“for disturbing sexual content involving children, and for language.” It did not contain any nudity. Richard’s two sons, Robby the younger (7), and Peter the older (14) both had sexual escapades. At one point, waiting for their Dad to get home from work, they got into a chat room together.

Robby turned to Peter, who was keyboarding,” Say—you poop into my butt hole and I poop into your butt hole—back and forth—forever.”

Later Robby continued the chatting solo—and finally was lured into a meeting with the “person” on the other end—a person who seemed sexually excited by all the poop-talk.

Sean Axmaker of the SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER wrote,” The best opening night film the Seattle International Film Festival has featured in years—performance artist and experimental filmmaker Miranda July’s award-winning feature directorial debut is a playfully offbeat, willfully wide-eyed tale of the lonely, inarticulate people looking for connection in a disconnected world.
There is an unsettling undercurrent to some of these scenes—yet even the most discomforting elements became oddly innocent and harmless under July’s benign outlook. No predators are lurking here—merely empty souls looking for a connection. Her off-center dialogue sings with yearning. In her guileless worldly trust, she is rewarded with affection and acceptance—and that’s a comforting place to be.”

Her casting choices were incredibly precise. Her directorial work with the children and young people was flawless. Brandon Ratcliff as young Robby—who was all of 5 years old when he made the film—will win all the “cuteness’ awards for the 2005. He was a natural in this role. There were no forced moments in his dialogue. His performance sparked a lot of praise by the critics. Considering the text of his “poop” scenes—it also sparked a lot of controversy. He has continued to work—now having appeared in 2 films and has had two guest appearances on television. He will join the long line of excellent child actors that endeavor to hang on into puberty and adolescence. Good luck, young man.

When Robby found his way to the rendezvous set up by his chat room partner— he discovered an adult woman sitting on that park bench—but not just any woman—it was Nancy the aloof museum curator. Robby crawled up onto the bench and sat staring at Nancy until she finally noticed him—and then figured out that he was her “date”. She was stunned, bemused, and disappointed. Robby stood up and touched her hair. Where would this lead? In July’s capable hands—it remained a safe moment. As Nancy strolled away—we could only wonder at their inner monologues.

Miles Thompson played the older son, Peter—who was 14. Two of his precocious classmates—Heather and Rebecca—approached him, out of the blue, as he and Robby were returning home after school—and they offered to perform fellatio on him. He, of course, had no idea of the scenario that preceded their proposal. They had been flirted with an older man—Andrew [played by Brad Henke] who just happened to work at the shoe store with Richard. They told him they were both 18 years old. He did not believe them—but his hormones were certainly stoked up. On a whim—he pasted a scatological love note to his living room window—knowing that the girls would pass by and read it. When they did, he added another note—and another. [This whole scenario was “cute”, but wholly improbable. The notes were huge, and his apartment was near the sidewalk. Passers-by would certainly have confronted him—or called the police immediately] as per one note he suggested that he would like Rebecca—the taller thin girl—to give him a blow job. This hurt Heather’s feelings.

Heather: Why would he want you to give him a blow job—instead of me?
Rebecca: I don’t know—maybe he thinks I have a sensual mouth.

This sparked controversy and conflict between the girls—and soon it became an adolescent rivalry—which led to their sexual offer of services to young Peter. They forced Peter to lie with a pillow over his face—so that he couldn’t see who was performing the oral sex. Afterward, they demanded to know which of them had performed “better”. Peter diplomatically—and honestly responded with,” They were both the same. I couldn’t tell the difference.”

Najarra Townsend played Rebecca—the taller thin teenager. She has already had a very full career—at only 15 years old. She was a runway model at 3 years old, and she has worked in musical theater all her life. Her Rebecca was gawky, vulnerable, and memorable. Natasha Slayton played Heather—the shorter blond teenager. Her character was the initiator, and the manipulator. She was the most attractive of the pair—and she knew it. Often in life, it seems, an attractive girl will buddy up with a less attractive one. Somehow if feeds her ego. The character of Heather—though competently played by Slayton paled until it became this week’s blonde. She was just less memorable than the quirky Rebecca.

Carlie Westerman played 10 year old Sylvie—the boy’s neighbor. Her steady gaze and budding talent insured a solid characterization. She was a tween who had already planned her future life—planned her dream house. She dearly loved buying small household gadgets and hoarding them in her hope chest. Often taking them out and counting them and marveling at their boxes and newness. Peter found himself being relaxed around her—he could just be himself. But when he approached her in the schoolyard, while she was with her girlfriend—he began to feel the difference four grades higher could mean. She was unable to acknowledge his friendship in front of her peers. This didn’t seem to bother Peter much. I guess he understood peer pressure.

I found it odd that July as Christine, while performing her Elder Cab driving services—only seemed to have one client—Hector Elias as Michael. Mostly he liked to be driven to see his lady friend—Ellen—who was ill and a shut-in. On one of those rides, July created a marvelous scene involving a father, a daughter, and a goldfish in a plastic bag half full of water. This gem of a scenario was truly worthy of being in a Jacques Tati film. It required almost no dialogue. The newly purchased goldfish, in its plastic bag, was left on the roof of the car. Christine and Michael want to warn the other pair of the peril—but feared it would confuse them and they might stop too quickly—and the fish would perish in a fall. This five minute digression became a marvelous misadventure that was great fun to watch—even though it was not really relevant to the plot.

Hector Elias is a wonderful character actor. His Michael was compassionate and sage. His adoration for his shut-in girlfriend, Ellen—was a joy to behold. Elias works a lot in theatre, and he has had 25 film appearances since 1970—BANG THE DRUM SLOWLY (1973), and THREE AMIGOS (1986). He has had 35 guest shots on episodic televison—like BARETTA (1975), CHICO AND THE MAN (1977), and HILL STREET BLUES (1982).

The lovely Ellen Geer played the lady friend—Ellen. She is, of course, the daughter of the late great character actor Will Geer (THE WALTONS). Miranda July said,” You know it’s funny because that character’s name had always been “Ellen”. I did want to use an older, possibly famous, actress—but Ellen Geer just fell into my lap. And we were able to use real photographs of her, and playbills. In her home she had a wealth of amazing things to show.”

Ellen Geer has had 58 film appearances since 1968—like HAROLD AND MAUDE (1971), PATRIOT GAMES (1992), and PHENOMENON (1997). She has logged 73 guest shot appearances on television—shows like THE WALTONS (1972), BARETTA (177), DALLAS (1979), MOONLIGHTING (1986), STAR TREK: TNG (1991), CSI (2002), and recently she played the Crone on HBO’s CARNIVALE (2005). Currently she is an Acting Professor in the Drama department of UCLA.

Christine: Michael—even though Ellen thinks that she is going to die—how could you let her push you away like that?
Michael: I didn’t let her. She’s just doing it.

Peter Travers of ROLLING STONE wrote,” It is July’s gift to locate a common humanity in the strangest of bedfellows. There’s not an ounce of shame or arty superiority in her hilarious and heartfelt film. Her unique take on the world is cause for celebration.”

Jessica Winter of THE VILLAGE VOICE wrote,” An idiosyncratic polymath turns delicate whimsy into a heartfelt story of us. The film proceeds with childlike discursiveness—conjuring up a heightened reality—where characters verbalize their thoughts, desires, and impulses without submitting them to the usual filters. July takes in their foibles unblinkingly—and folds them into an awkward heartfelt embrace.”

Sam Adams of the PHILADELPHIA CITY PAPER wrote,” This film takes place in a primary color world—even though it’s set in a mundane stretch of unnamed suburbia—every location feels somehow strange—like a place you’ve never been—or have been and have forgotten. In July’s world—the adults are barely more than children—and the children are practically adults.
But it is almost too precious for words—on the edge of insufferable tweeness of faux-naif Indie-rock. July simplifies her narrative to evoke the rituals hidden in daily life—and in the mysterious connections that bind people without their knowledge.”

Ruthe Stein of the SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE wrote,” A bizarre collection of lonely souls inhabit this film—and every one of them is worth knowing. Totally original, yet filled with familiar human frailties, EVERYONE leaps off the screen to become one of those rare movie going experiences that linger in that part of the brain reserved for celluloid memories. At last—here is a Sundance and Cannes prizewinner worthy of the high-tone imprimatur. This film leaves you inexplicably “happy”. It is positively buoyant—like a helium balloon you regret to see float away.”

I was attracted to and hooked by the film’s heavy sentimentality—shocked and surprised at the boldness of its inquiries about and excursions into the psychological dark places we all share—those things that are rarely discussed and never really have been presented in a comic film. I liked being subjected to, for me, the new world of “performance art”. July reminded me that there can be “art” in everything—even the most mundane of objects, situations, and thoughts. Often we can enjoy experiencing the world through the perceptions of a poet—the wordsmithing of a good writer—the sensual movements of a talented dancer—the melodic strains of a musician—the pedantic musings of a philosopher—and the dynamic daubs of a painter. I think Miranda July is all these things—and more.

In this film, in the scene within the shoe store where Christine was trying to capture Richard’s attention and she put socks on her ears—this was a tiny improvisation of genius—not a self-deluded act of egotism as has been suggested by some critics. It was like Picasso seeing a bull in the handle bars of a bicycle. I believe there is art all around us. A jazzman converts the pounding staccato of traffic into a whirling riff. A photographer provides us with a simple black and white photo of an Appalachian family standing in front of their cabin—and this converts into a grand philosophic statement. Roses have a wide spectrum of colors within their diverse genus—and they have a pleasurable odor. Often it would behoove us to stop near a bush of them, and really look at them, process them, and inhale their singular loveliness. Miranda July made me want to break out my 35mm camera and wander the wrecking yards, searching for the perfect shot of a 1941 Chev coupe—made me want to write more poetry—return to rewriting one of the three finished unpublished manuscripts I have that I hoped one day would compete for the status of the next great American novel. I have always felt that a “good” film represented the perfect distillation and commingling of all the arts—photography, dance, music, writing, and performance—and that I was always a viewer in lesson, not just an audience member experiencing a thrill ride.

In July’s film, when the museum curator, Nancy, took the time to actually view the entirety of Christine’s presentation video—and she began to view the work in with new eyes, letting her heart be engaged too—it was not surprising that Christine’s phone rang and Nancy only said one word--
“Macaroni”. Later when Christine is able to take Michael to her exhibit—we all hope that this opportunity will be followed by many more.

Perhaps because July is used to working with short pieces—comic bits—catchy tunes—short stories—the episodic quality of the film’s plot overlapped comfortably; but sometimes at the expense of clarity. I really wanted to know more about many of the characters. What had Ellen been like as a younger woman? How many times had she or Michael been married? Did Nancy have a quasi-lesbian relationship going on with her museum assistant? Did Sylvie’s mother pass on much of the domestic focus that she espoused? What specifically broke up Richard’s marriage? Where was Richard from—what were his parents like? How did Robby fare at school ? Why was Andrew still single? What kind of a home life did Rebecca and Heather actually have? Did that goldfish survive? I realize that a good piece of literature or film leaves the viewer both enthralled and wanting more. That being the case—this film must qualify as “a good piece of Art”.

Kimberly Jones of the AUSTIN CHRONICLE wrote,” Miranda July has long trafficked in short pieces—and it shows. Her feature length film debut is packed with arresting images, moments, and single lines of dialogue. The film’s “preciousness” sometimes overwhelms that uniqueness of vision. What does survive the “precious” assault are the devastatingly good performances.”

Not all the critics loved this film. Dustin Putman of MOVIEBOY.COM wrote,” The film has sparks of brilliance—but it gets bogged down in an unfocused, often contrived array of characters and loose narratives—all vying for further exploration than the 90 minute running time will allow. July has confused reality with showy sexual flagrance. The film is rife with controversial material.
The ending comes as an extreme disappointment. All the pieces seemed to be there—and yet they didn’t fit into a cohesive and meaningful whole like Ms. July intended. This film plays like a rough cut on its way to greatness—but in dire need of rewrites and re-shoots that regrettably—never came.”

Roger Ebert, in his inimitable way—summed it up,” Performance Art sometimes deals with how odd and wonderful it is to be alive. So does this film. It is a balancing act—as July ventures into areas that are risky and transgressive—then uses a freshness that disarms them—a directness that accepts human nature and likes to watch it at work.
When the movie was over at Sundance, I let out my breath and looked across the aisle at another critic.
“What did you think?” she asked.
“I think it’s the best film at the festival,” I answered.
“Me too,” she agreed. “

Yeah—me too, Roger. I would rate this film at 4 stars.

Glenn Buttkus (2005)