Mutual Appreciation

Painful awkwardness…it's a real problem. Bujalski masterfully uncovers a new generation of college graduates that probably seems all too familiar to some. The film captures moments of social anxiety that come from a generation of sheltered upper middle class graduates. The security of a sheltered life comes with a price: these people have no idea how to express emotions and talk about anything beyond mundane daily happenings unless, as Ellie says, they are fed multiple beers. When Ellie and Alan admit a mutual attraction for each other on the bed, they have absolutely no idea how to realize it. All Alan can do is hilariously and timidly rub Ellie's arm. Instead, Ellie simply goes back to a boyfriend that doesn't even experience a mood shift when Ellie tells him he is attracted to his best friend, and they had a very vague "moment". Are we finally seeing the consequences of not letting youth experience anything for themselves? Are these people victims of their upbringing or is it their own fault, or both? I sat there watching the film feeling entirely uncomfortable, which is why the film worked so well. The silence in the air often made me cringe, which created completely hilarious moments when the characters finally responded with confused, inarticulate comments: "I can't even do that thing where you're not my girlfriend and I'm making out with you". I was scared to watch the movie, because I was afraid it would remind me of my own post college life. Some moments did hit close to home for me, and I found myself reflecting on my own life as well as the characters in the film. This film is scary and funny at the same time. It reminds us to wake up, but to also realize that life is full of awkward moments and sometimes all there is to do is laugh at them. I saw this film at Chicago's Music Box, and suggest that everyone do the same before the film is gone from the theater.

Throughout history, there have been people who have changed the world. Edison gave us the light bulb; Guttenburg the printing press. I feel I am offering a public service for all mankind just as great by warning people to stay away from "Mutual Appreciation".

It is perhaps the most monotonous movie I have ever seen. Nothing happens. These slackers, who are really disturbing to look at, just sit there and talk. I wouldn't have a problem with that if they had something interesting to say. They don't. And they have nothing to say in the most dreary manner possible. No ups, no downs. Just flat, unemotional speaking. It is just true torture. Please, please, for all that is good and holy, ignore the critics who liked this and avoid this horrific piece of...film.

I bet Andrew Bujalski is sick of reading that he's the voice of his generation, when most of that neo-slacker demographic has never had the opportunity to see his films. Like Funny Ha Ha, Mutual Appreciation is hardly your standard Amerindie … It's shot on 16mm black-and-white, thus confirming Bujalski's allegiance to a strain of maverick films—Shadows, Stranger than Paradise, Clerks—that bring poignantly accurate renditions of subcultures of which their directors have intimate knowledge to otherwise homogenized screens. While Cassavetes is the most obvious influence, one might also regard Funny Ha Ha and Mutual Appreciationas Rohmer without subtitles. Both films are "moral tales" whose characters leap to language as offense and defense.—Amy Taubin

I haven't seen this director's first film, the 2002 Funny Ha Ha, but I'm already a fan, if a mild one, from this second effort. It's enjoyable to watch the quiet textures of ordinary young adult American life that Andrew Bujalski weaves, because his people talk in ways that are both witty and remarkably believable, even if the rhythms are mostly lackadaisical.

"If John Cassavetes had directed a script by Eric Rohmer," Variety's Joe Leydon has written, "the result might have looked and sounded like Mutual Appreciation." That indeed does give you a starting point for understanding what Andrew Bujalski (a Harvard film graduate, now thirty-one) is up to, except that these aren't Seventies American actors or later French ones, but mostly twenty-something American non-actors, and the result of the blending of methods and interests of those two older directors is different, of course, from either Rohmer or Cassavetes. Bujalski's film is grainy black and white, the look is rough, the scenes are improvisational and vérité. The topics and the conversations are delicate, however, like Rohmer's; there aren't any long harangues or violent arguments or tortured late-night epiphanies as was Cassavetes' way. Attractions, desires, choices – no huge dramas.

There's really just a triangle, two male friends and the girlfriend of one of them. The boyfriend is Lawrence (Bujalski himself); the girlfriend is Ellie (Rachel Clift). The other guy is Alan (Justin Rice, in real life founder of the indie-rock band Bishop Allen), who's just come to town (NYC, i.e., Brooklyn), whose band has split up, and who wants to get started again. Alan has an interview of radio, and the host, Sara (Seung-Min Lee) later hits on him. During the course of the action, at several times when Lawrence is away, Alan and Ellie acknowledge that they "like" each other. They have a "moment," as they say. But they don't do anything about it, as far as we see (the scenes are chopped off at the ends almost every time; that's the style). They both separately tell Lawrence about their "moment." Some consideration of gender roles comes up when Lawrence agrees -- very half-heartedly -- to participate in a reading of women's experiences with men; and when Alan is talked into putting on a dress. The trio of lovers and friends acknowledge the temptation to infidelity that has happened and end with a group hug. That's all that happens in the 109 minutes.

There's a hand-held camera, the grainy look of 16 mm., but Bujalski doesn't revel in the richness of black and white as Cassavetes' cameramen did. There's nothing particularly cinematic about Bujalski's method, which also has little to do with politics or current events or trends – except for the presence of cell phones. There are hardly any exterior shots. But something magical does happen in the way Bujalski and Rice and the other main characters, who aren't particularly photogenic, to put it mildly, start to look good to us, because the inner beauty of their natures – Alan's openness and positivity; Lawrence's sensitivity and goodness – gradually emerges from the thick grain. Because Bujalski's kitchen-sink use of awkwardness is so adept, it almost disappears. The pace is sometimes excruciating, but in a way this isn't a movie; it doesn't feel like one; and that's not so bad.

What makes the movie a success is the naturalness doesn't seem forced or self-conscious. The people aren't actor-y like Cassavetes and his pals. Their conversations are choppy and awkward sometimes, but alert, even witty. These aren't Actors Studio-style tortured-intensity Stanislawski moments, but remarkably believable recreations of twenty-first-century, twenty-something American conversations. Bujalski's characters, as his Wikipedia bio says, are "well-educated, yet socially inept young white people." The scenes, which include a show at a club that's not very well attended, and a little gathering at an older man's house afterward followed by another dying party of three women in wigs who dress Alan in drag, and phone conversations between Alan, the singer, and his father (one of them to voice mail, while Alan strums his guitar and doesn't answer), have a documentary feel, but it's a documentary that's niftily edited, about people observed so nicely you end by liking them.

In limited release. Seen at Cinema Village NYC September 18, 2006.

Here's a drama of sorts, done up in grainy, black & white, faux verité style to simulate a documentary of a moveable feast of trust children and other well heeled, well educated slackers, all Brooklyn apartment denizens, whom we follow around during their standard issue daily lives. I suspect - though I don't know and haven't read - that the actors were told the general arc of the film and assigned broad outlines of their characters (maybe they even helped to develop them: the method of the English director, Mike Leigh), then allowed to ad lib within those limits. The dialogue surely has that feel.

The major subtext here is friendship. The action, if you can call a long series of sedentary conversations that, centers around a trio of characters: Lawrence (Andrew Bujalski, also the writer-director), his girlfriend Ellie (Rachel Clift), and Lawrence's long time best friend Alan (Justin Rice), who has just come to town after his rock band, "The Bumblebees," had broken up in Boston. A crackle of attraction fills the air between Ellie and Alan, and a lingering issue throughout the film is what will develop between them, and what will become of Lawrence's ties to both.

The principals and their friends prattle on about such crucial matters as the iron deficiency that can develop from vegan diets (Alan's friend's solution to this was: eat meat); honesty; what to do after someone kisses you; making pop music and performance art; taking "proactive control of one's destiny," as Ellie puts it to Lawrence at one point; obtaining and smoking good weed and occasionally maybe scoring some cocaine, though it's not a big deal; hitting Dad up for dollars; Buddhism; elliptical references to some other people - erstwhile close chums - getting married. .

Those are the searingly important issues of the day for these young adults. Nothing about politics, social or global issues. Not a word about career, except for Alan's aspirations to make it as a rocker (Mr. Rice has an arresting singing voice with a faintly Irish lilt to it). The talk goes on and on for 110 minutes. It's "My Dinner with Andre," without Andre. And without dinner. No arc. No resolution. No character changes. Not even an interesting idea or two. Just slices of daily life, like I said. The whole enterprise feels (a) realistic and (b) boring, agonizingly boring.

One saving grace is Mr. Rice, whose Alan is a shy, beguiling, endearing rogue of a fellow for sure. The other thing is absence of cigarettes. For the longest time I thought this would be a fag-free movie, and it almost is. Only in the 85th minute was one cigarette smoked, shared between Ellie and Alan as a sort of 40s style sexual signal. And not again. This film is marginally better than Lila Yomtoob's recent movie "High Life," about the same Brooklyn-dwelling, beer drinking young slacker social set.

My partner and I have ties to a group of "younger" adults, now approaching 40, who attended college together and then migrated more-or-less as a group to San Francisco, where most of them continue to live. Their bonds remain palpable and enduring. A dozen years ago their daily lives might have looked, to an outside viewer, a lot like the people in this film. Today it's different, but only in some respects. Most have solved the problem of vocation, one way or another, and they are more interesting than the 20-somethings because of it.

One has followed a traveling circus, becoming proficient as a sword swallower. When not on the road he lives in a warehouse by the Bay with his partner, a woman who arranges sets for the opera. Another flies in for parties from D.C., where he now works for the IMF. Yet another is an agronomist who is about to finish law school, and one sells art at an upmarket gallery near Union Square. Our friend, who has lived in Japan and studied Butoh dancing, is now a freelance, self-taught finish carpenter and fine cabinet maker.

Our friend only became political in his early 30s, shifting dramatically from indifference to activism. In terms of their intimate lives - their capacities to establish and sustain romantic or conjugal relationships - it's still a much more mixed picture for our friend's group. Some have married, others not. For several, although they are highly personable individuals, "permanent" love relationships still remain just beyond their reach.

I bring up this group not so much to suggest those things that may and may not change as singles move from their 20s into their 30s, but primarily to make a very different point. Our friend's friends would have no interest in or even knowledge of us, nor is it likely that we would know or care about them, fascinating people though they are, were it not for the connections – the social network – that exists through our friend. He was my stepson's dearest chum in childhood; my partner has known him since he was 5, and I have enjoyed his company for over 10 years. It is because of our friend that his circle interests us so.

To sharpen the point, there are only two reasons for anybody to care about the group of kids in this movie: (a) you identify with them: you're a kid yourself, in fact or in terms of your own psychological makeup; or (b) one of them IS your daughter, son, or a longstanding friend of theirs. For everybody else, and that's most of us, this film basically sucks. My grades: 5/10, C. (Seen on 02/09/06).