The defining image of Miranda July’s audacious debut Me and You and Everyone We Know isn’t July scrawling ‘FUCK’ on her windscreen or John Hawkes setting his hand ablaze but a piece of impromptu ASCII art created by a six year old. Four brackets and two greater-than signs illustrate his simple desire: “I’ll poop into her butthole and then she’ll poop it back into my butthole, and then we’ll just keep doing it back and forth with the same poop.” By attempting to approximate how a physical process can embody an emotional bond, he sums up the struggle to connect openly that is the theme not just of the film but most of July’s multidisciplinary work. Even when they can’t articulate it, all of her characters – like me, like you, like everyone we know – are ultimately just looking for someone to poop back and forth into their butthole, forever ))><((
Published as part of Little White Lies’ “100 great movies by female directors” feature. To read the original article click here.