I can’t claim to be a Miranda July fan; I’m not that familiar with her work. She was a Renew Media Fellow, so I’ve heard her name a few times in the course of my work there, and consequently added her film, Me and You and Everyone We Know to my Netflix queue. I have to admit to being beautifully blown away by the film.

Sure, different films hit you in certain ways depending on where you are in your own life. The first time I saw The Piano, I was so grossed out by the sight of Harvey Keitel naked, that the entire film was lost on me. Fast forward a few lonely years later, and the movie hit me like a ton of bricks (in a good way).

There’s a lot of blog press these days with The New Talkies: Generation DIY opening this week in New York. Besides making interesting films, the “mumblecore” filmmakers are a charismatic group so it isn’t hard to support them and talk about the cultural vein they have tapped into (read Matt Dentler’s First Person at indieWIRE). Their work touches on similar themes found in July’s 2005 film.

Loneliness, technology, touch and human connections. If you say you aren’t dealing with how to balance technology in your life with actual real life connections, well, let’s just say I’d be surprised to find you reading a blog. It’s easy to feel like we are doing a better job connecting to people when our lives are immersed in new technology, but as July’s film makes poignantly clear, touch between people and finding a family, however it is defined, is what we need. Technology can be expressive and communicative but it can’t replace holding someone’s hand or even those first awkward sexual experiences.

Generation DIY films also explore these topics, and I do really like them. Perhaps because July is a woman (the writer and director of the film) or because I felt that it had more layers of meaning, that I was so touched by Me and You and Everyone We Know, but for me, it felt like the highest of art.