Mutual Appreciation

Without condemning the whole mumblecore movement, I think I sympathise more with its critics than its fans. The films certainly convey relationships between their characters realistically, and there are some scenes in each mumblecore film I've seen which I could almost recognise for myself, but I'm always overwhelmed by this slightly smug self-awareness that pervades many artists working under the 'indie' banner. It is easy to believe that the makers of these films are very similar to their characters – young, confused, directionless – but the fact that the focus most often falls on the progeny of the last bourgeois generation takes away the integrity of this gritty, frugal filming style.

Mutual Appreciation is as much a milestone of indie film-making as it is a victim of its own pretences. The observer paradox seems to pervade much of the dialogue, much of which feels calculatingly awkward – it is easy to distinguish between the improvised lines and premeditated lines. Having said that, I was struck by one scene where Alan is besieged by with women at a 'party' he wasn't certain about going to in the first place, and is eventually convinced to don a dress and make-up. Here it seems the actors were given the most room to ad-lib, and it's a brilliant piece of footage which seems to speak to the majority of young adults and their issues with projecting identity.

I saw this film yesterday at the Independent Film Festival of Boston and was pleasantly surprised. I just randomly picked it because i wanted to see something at the IFFB, and i loved the movie. Andrew Bujalski did a great job writing this conversion driven movie. The conversation felt so natural that I thought most of it was ad-libbed, but after the film he told us that while parts of the script were somewhat left open for ad-libbing, it was mostly written dialog. The main character, Alan (Justin Rice) has this wonderfully unique charisma, which really pulled me into the movie. Mr. Bujalski told us that much of that character was based on real life Justin Rice, and it came across well. I would definitely recommend checking out this movie if you can, especially for fans of Woody Allen, and it reminded me of Wes Anderson's work in some ways, probably just because of the characters.

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

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 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.