The movie is ultimately about communication in the digital age, but July approaches her theme slyly, dancing around her "message" while filling her story with refreshingly original real-world observations (to the extent that an awkward chatroom come-on to pass poop "back and forth" becomes a fitting metaphor for all forms of electronic correspondence). It's an audience-friendly art film full of humor and moments so unexpected they seem almost surreal: a love affair between two pink shoes, a man who sets his hand on fire, the secret mystery of the sunrise, and more.

It helps that July regards the world with childlike innocence, exploding with curiosity where other filmmakers see only irony. She's not afraid to wear socks on her ears or talk in silly voices, but best of all, she's still fascinated by her environment, discovering new qualities in everything around her. In an early scene, July's character watches as a father comes out of the pet store carrying a goldfish. He sets the plastic bag on the roof of his SUV and drives off, and in that instant, the audience collectively leans forward in their seats, breathlessly attached to the fate of that goldfish.

The scene is like a self-contained poem tucked within the larger narrative. The movie is full of such gems, evidence of July's unique ability to take her mundane suburban setting and examine it inside-out. Will the movie still hold up in 10 years? It's hard to say. Me and You works so well now thanks to the sheer originality of July's voice, but I fear "the Roberto Benigni effect," where the more familiar audiences become with the movie's virtually unknown writer/director/star, the less endearing they find her eccentricities. Still, it seems impossible to imagine that a perspective so fresh could ever get old.

[as featured on Premiere.com]