WHITE LIES, PAINFUL TRUTHS
‘YOU HURT MY FEELINGS’ IS A COMPLEX, GENTLE AND FUNNY FILM ABOUT HUMAN RELATIONSHIPS AND WHAT WE DO AND SAY TO MAKE THEM WORK
Writer/director Nicole Holofcener is one of the great chroniclers of the micro dramas and minor injustices that make up the tapestry of our relationships, and thereby of life itself. It’s an increasingly rare thing, in the current cinematic landscape, to see films like this, that tease apart the delicate intricacies of quotidian interactions in order to pose larger questions about who we are in relationship to each other, and what that means for our own sense of self.
Her latest film, “You Hurt My Feelings” is another Holofcener home run on this field, a comedic unpacking of the little white lies we tell each other in order to avoid unnecessary conflict, to smooth things over. It’s also a gentle but necessary skewering of her solipsistic characters, whom we both laugh at for their self-centered indignation and relate to on an intrinsic level.
Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Tobias Menzies star as Beth and Don, a deeply co-dependent New York City couple who have been ignoring or papering over any friction in their relationship with false assurances for years — fawning over anniversary gifts, blindly cheering on their career moves without much critical thinking. They are completely in step with each other, almost to the point of disgusting their 20-something son, Elliott (Owen Teague), until suddenly the veil of polite, unyielding support is violently pierced thanks to an accidentally overheard conversation.
Beth is a moderately successful author and writing teacher; Don is a somewhat hapless therapist. One day, Beth overhears his true feelings about her latest manuscript as he confesses to his brotherin-law Mark (Arian Moayed), and it sends her into a tailspin. She’s rocked by the lies about his opinion of her novel, but it also dredges up other pressing questions about love and creativity, such as: does your partner have to like your work for the
relationship to function?
Holofcener positions Beth’s sister Sarah (Michaela Watkins) and her husband Mark as mirrors to the central couple. Sarah, a long-suffering interior designer to picky clients, is much like Don the therapist — they take on the whims and intimate struggles of other people in private, without anyone watching what they’re doing. On the other hand, writer Beth and struggling actor Mark are publicfacing artists, creating work that is both available and expected to be consumed, not just inviting feedback but exhorting it from their loved ones.
With the time and space to explore every nuance of this dilemma, Holofcener plumbs the depths of this question to its absurdist and insightful ends. Much of her filmmaking genius lies in the structure of her films, their easy rhythms moving like the flow of everyday life. We enter into the world fully before the conflict is introduced; repeated scenarios allow us to see the characters in new ways every time, and she utilizes totems and touchstones, such as a sweater or a
pair of socks, that take on different significance with every callback. A running gag featuring real-life spouses Amber Tamblyn and David Cross as a couple seeking therapy with Don is a highlight, especially as they unite to steamroll him.
As Beth, Louis-Dreyfus skillfully balances on the knife’s edge between acerbic and vulnerable, her performance at once lightly satirical and deeply affecting. This is a film that is not uncritical of its characters, and is willing to let them be bad at their jobs and capricious in their conflict. Watkins brings a necessary hit of acid as the pragmatic Sarah to Moayed’s dramatic Mark, who has the perfect energy for
a Holofcener film. At one point, there’s a reference to the 1978 Paul Mazursky masterpiece “An Unmarried Woman,” situating “You Hurt My Feelings” in the canon of great New York City-set films about women fumbling through their relationships, making mistakes while also searching for grace.
The question that Holofcener poses continues to resonate after the conclusion of this enjoyably complex film, as she takes the time to dissect what might otherwise seem mundane but is, in fact, intrinsic to the core of our existence and how we coexist with each other. What could be more important than that?