A shoe salesman splits up with his wife and enters into single fatherdom by spouting Generation X platitudes about the meaning of life at his McJob, before entering into the most unconvincing romance between two irritating people this side of Anakin and Padme.
Meanwhile an old man goes through the usual “grab the moment while you can” cliches and underage kids flirt with sexual encounters in the most distasteful way; but it’s “quirky” so it’s okay, apparently. Throw in a token death, a kooky “artist” making inane analogies about relationships and shouting out “You are loved!” to a doomed goldfish like the immature rantings of a second year film student and you’ve got everything that’s wrong with indie cinema. At least the similarly vacuous Garden State had likeable characters and a few laughs. This is unfunny, pretentious dross pretending it’s profound by being wacky and filming a sunset with a handy cam. Apparently this turd has won awards; this fact just goes to show that if a dog were caught short in an art gallery, there’d still be a cretin who’d proclaim its business as a masterpiece.
Me And You And Everyone We Know is nothing but a total insult to the intelligence.