You Hurt My Feelings

Tobias Menzies and Julia Louis-Dreyfus in You Hurt My Feelings

I always seem to be of two minds about Nicole Holofcener and You Hurt My Feelings, her best film, does nothing to change that. The film is a bourgeoise domestic dramedy that is winningly constructed and has no particularly bad performances. Holofcener gently satirizes her characters self-absorption. There are no explosions or broken crockery, though there is an inordinate amount of shopping Even an armed robbery leaves no physical or psychic scars, just feeble digs at mother love. Holofcener is a talented writer, not only for her own films but for such disparate projects as The Last Duel and Can You Ever Forgive Me, but she has very little visual style as a director. One is reminded of Woody Allen and James L. Brooks and countless sitcoms. Visually, Holofcener lacks passion, dynamism, and vivacity.

Holofcener does nail the Upper West Side setting and I always enjoy the walking and talking shots of female kinship in her films. Julia Louis-Dreyfus' presence probably got the project financed and she portrays the writerly aspects of her character ably. However, she is only an interesting actress from the neck up. Physically, she is too stiff and inexact for comedy much less drama. Much of her schtick on Seinfeld consisted of double takes and reaction shots. I preferred the playing of Tobias Menzies as the writer's husband, a man so disengaged that his performance as a therapist suffers. David Cross and Amber Tamblyn are outstanding as a bickering couple whose rancor is transferred to Menzies' therapist. Best of all is Michaela Watkins as Louis-Dreyfus' patient sister. Holofcener remains one of our least Dionysian directors, but You Hurt My Feelings has its mannerly charms.