A good piece of storytelling relates to us in multiple ways. Whether it’s who we are or are not; what we hope for or are afraid of; the people we love or abhor—there’s always something. You Hurt My Feelings, written and directed by Nicole Holofcener, found its way to me. At first, the nostalgia of movies like this drew me in. Soft giggly indies that revolve around people who are comfortable enough to sweat the small stuff. Funny stories of neuroses and self-examination within the microcosms of families or intimate friend groups. You know the ones. The kind once made by that famous director from New York, when we still trusted him; or that NYC television series celebrating single women in the city. This movie—about an author, her therapist husband, their cannabis-selling son, the author’s sister, and her actor husband—brought me back to the movies I watched growing up; where the stakes were low but the relationships meant everything (and you could laugh at trouble).
Julia Louis-Dreyfus is Beth, an author whose memoir did okay but not as well as it should have according to her mother (Jeannie Berlin). Beth is married to Don (Tobias Menzies). Their relationship is depicted with such loveliness you either want to coo at them or hit them with your bike. Beth is in the process of writing a new book. Don says he likes it—repeatedly—but those are lies and propaganda. Even in sessions with his patients, it’s clear Don is mildly allergic to the truth. And that’s when the couple’s meet-cute shifts into reverse, becoming a break-mute.
Thematically, it aligns with an Erykah Badu quote, “Keep in mind that I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my sh!t.” In a parallel plot, Beth’s sister, Sarah (Michaela Watkins), is another sensitive artist and the clients at her interior design firm are pressing all her buttons. Her actor husband, Mark (Arian Moayed), is struggling to keep the faith but Sarah always tells him what he needs to hear. Just like Beth does for her son Eliot (Owen Teague) who is writing his own book (and he really wants her to shut up about it).
So many artists and one therapist, so many anxieties, what could go wrong?
This is truly a New York story with the resonance and overflowing life those movies evoked, and it charmed me in similar ways. Holofcener sculpts her characters with an acuity that gives them tangible forms, uplifted but also sagging hilariously under the weight of teeny tiny lies. The movie is shot for realism with the hard edges sanded off, which builds a sense of comfort that makes you want to explore. You could be walking down these streets or eating at these tables, you could be falling apart because of hurt feelings.
Beyond the effervescent cast, the layering of themes is another part of the film’s appeal. You Hurt My Feelings juxtaposes those beautiful lies against hurtful truths. It also deals in art and whether criticism can construct a better artist; or perhaps art only needs to find its audience. Then again, it is about the chaotic nature of communicating with our loved ones, and how miscommunication devolves into resentment. What is fascinating is how You Hurt My Feelings digs so deeply while making you laugh so sincerely.
