You Hurt My Feelings (2023, Nicole Holofcener) (Patreon)

48/100

Holofcener hurt my feelings by repeatedly assuming that I'm a simpleton who needs everything spelled out for me half a dozen times. (Worst offense comes right at the end, when we get a completely unnecessary close-up of a book-jacket blurb for which immediately preceding shots have already cued us to look. I tried to lay this out in detail but it got overly cumbersome, with indigestible references to shots labeled (1c) and (2a). Just trust me, it's lame.) That extends to the film's superstructure, which has every character grappling with exactly the same problem in more or less the same way and arriving at the same cozy solution, complete with a one-year-later happy ending for all. Would much rather have seen Holofcener and Louis-Dreyfus and somebody more charismatically recessive than Menzies genuinely dig into the tricky marital balance between being supportive and being honest, giving that dynamic the sustained attention it demands. Throwing in several parallel crises leaves each of them feeling skimpy and underdeveloped, and while I liked the scene that resolves Beth's anger with Don (particularly JL-D's priceless nonverbal response when he asks which pair of earrings she doesn't like), I also thought, "Wait, that's it?" Comedy's frequently pitched too broad for my taste—the goofy pot-store robbery, Cross and Tamblyn ludicrously but quite seriously demanding a full refund for $30,000 of therapy, etc.—and Holofcener at full strength shows up only once, when Beth, lashing out in her misery, casually incites what's likely to be a very ugly fight between married strangers sitting near her at a bar, simply by asking each of them her opinion of the other's creative work. The rest of You Hurt My Feelings is disappointingly glib and shallow by comparison.

BUT.

Here is what I wrote on the nerd chat group about Lovely & Amazing after seeing it at TIFF 2001.

With the exception of Mortimer's big scene, which is fantastic (and not just for the obvious reason), I did in fact find most of it pitched roughly at sitcom level, particularly when it came to Blethyn's manic mum and the adopted child. And while there are no big speeches stating the movie's theme, it's still handled like an oversized bag of cement—I kept waiting for someone to say aloud, "Wait a minute! Is it just me, or does everyone in this family suffer from the exact same problem, albeit in a myriad of different ways?!" Yeesh.

I wish I could remember the slew of little things that irked me. I vaguely recall Mortimer being treated in a humiliating fashion that was exaggerated to the point of ludicrousness, but the details escape me now. I dunno, the whole thing just seemed kinda clumsy and forced.

And here is what I wrote on the nerd chat group about Lovely & Amazing after rewatching it nine months later, in preparation for my Time Out New York review: 

So I did watch it again, armed with a notepad on which I intended to scribble down the dozens of moments that I'd found galling or implausible or exaggerated or otherwise annoying the first time, whereupon I'd march back here and give this dopey movie's supporters a piece of my mind. And I would, too—except that I find that the pages of my notepad are mysteriously blank.

I was wrong.  This is a pretty good movie.

So while I stand by what I wrote above, for the moment, I don't necessarily trust myself.