Everyone Else tells the story of Chris and Gitti, a couple taking a week in the Mediterranean at Chris’ wealthy parents’ vacation home (“They’re not wealthy,” Chris insists at one point, “they just bought the wrong size pool.”) This is the kind of film where slow and patient observation reveals reality for what it is. Chris and Gitti surely know the terms of their relationship, and we see them pivot awkwardly around these definitions of their personality that cause strife in their relationship.
Naturally, I fell asleep in the first five minutes (I was tired), but awoke with a poof after some fifteen or twenty minutes. This is merely stated to note that I haven’t actually seen all of this, but the remainder of the film was riveting in the way it observed some groan-inducing scenery. There were some holes in my understanding that are addressed (and thus I am in the dark) in the third act (the story of Chris’ niece learning to be upfront and outgoing about her dislike of people, and the reason why Chris and Gitti are avoiding Hans, a more successful architect than Chris and a former classmate).
That said, I came into the film during a conversation where Gitti (Birgit Minichmayr) and Chris (Lars Eldinger) were in bed, speaking to each other frankly about the biggest differences in their personalities (she is outgoing, wants to discuss the particulars of everything, and isn’t particularly pretentious, whereas he is more insular, intellectual and quiet). After running into Hans and his successful designer-wife at the supermarket, the two couples begin to circle each other in some spectacularly awkward scenes. The difference between the high-minded couple of Hans and Sana and Gitti are established almost immediately, and the world of success represented by this couple is incredibly appealing to Chris. Lines are drawn, and they seem to exclude Gitti altogether.
What follows is a continuing evolution of the relationship between these two couples that begins to push Gitti and Chris closer together and further apart at the same time. And one of the things that works so perfectly about the film is the way it takes awkward scenes and uses them for a basis in understanding how power works in a relationship. ‘Awkward’ is often a short-cut nowadays to humor, because it unveils ugliness in the human condition, but here it is used purely for drama, and all the more excruciating for it. With humor, there’s always an out – there’s always irony. The shrugging gentleman with the pursed lips who “gets it” or is the butt of it. Here there’s none of this, best illustrated by the evening dinner scene where Chris and Gitti first relent to Hans’ hospitality, and the hiking scene which is utterly devastating and probably uncomfortably familiar to anyone who has been in a relationship for a serious amount of time.Gitti’s final salvo is a bit of a mystery – I’m not exactly sure what’s happening, or what we’re expected to think throughout the sequence. Is it clear to Gitti and Chris equally that they are breathing? From my perspective, I was somewhat shocked by Chris’ behavior. But with every patient second during that final scene we begin to wonder what we have come to know about these two characters. When we are finally given a hint as to what the nature of this particular reconciliation is, the film is over. Mercifully, in some respects.
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