YOU & I– 3 STARS

Summer Shelton’s new indie romantic drama You & I contemplates the old adage of “the one that got away.” That often-held regret is commonly romanticized with nostalgia, but one should look more closely, as this very film does. As they say, the devil is in the details.

A strawberry-blonde middle-aged woman named Sarah (Shelton herself) is returning to her small Tennessee hometown for a friend’s party weekend. It’s a birthday gathering for Misty (Teacup’s Ashley Shelton) at her rustic home with her beau Mark (Linds Edwards from Homefront). It’s been many years since Sarah has been back in these parts away from her more urbane Nashville digs. Also attending this party is the well-dressed and well-tressed Joseph (Clayne Crawford of The Killing of Two Lovers). He too hasn’t been back here in several years and grew up with this same group.

The get-together ends up being just the four of them. Everyone comfortably knows each other and have an easy time catching up. Nevertheless, there’s a clear body language of pining from Joseph. When a call from the hospital pulls Misty and Mark away from the party, it leaves just Sarah and Joseph finishing glasses of wine and clearing the dishes. That’s when the mood of You & I turns. The film brings these two forward as former lovers who know each other intimately. 

Presenting this intriguing duo sharing this intersecting setting, Summer Shelton and You & I deconstruct the proverbial “one that got away” trope. Sarah and Joseph aren’t the usual high school sweethearts of teen love who reconnect a handful of years later in their slightly-more-mature twenties. These are two beleagured forty-somethings carrying the mileage of extended lives filled with greater peaks and valleys of happiness and disappointment. Their conversations take on an entirely different tone than star-crossed, whimsical happenstance.

LESSON #1: DECONSTRUCTING “THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY”-- Breaking the trope down further, the typical reasoning and equation of “the one that got away” is someone wanted more and the other wanted less, leaving one or both of the people involved to leave the relationship in premature or divisive bridge-burning fashion. Just who You &I reveals that is between Sarah and Joseph creates quite the bated breath to hang on in the film. Looming even larger especially, once again, for the ages of the two people involved is the weightier questions of why between their past and present status. Building and quelling those unspoken assumptions and answers is where the real drama is.

Much like what would likely be our own awkwardness and heightened antenna being in this same room and space, You & I cinematographer Bruce Thierry Cheung (Who Invited Them) floats the often handheld camera on the periphery. His point-of-view peeks through windows, doorways, and hallways from a slight distance. It’s a stance of cooled civility and cautious apprehension, all while there’s no instrumental underscore manipulating any emotions. The rawness come through to speak for itself. We witness that here where small talk is really small–no grand monologues or shouting matches– but no less impactful. 

That effect gives the actors space but also room for the smoke, so to speak, to linger and hit our noses. When courage increases and invitations are opened, You & I’s pressure shifts. As Joseph get closer and the flirtatiousness reaches a nose-to-nose distance, Cheung’s camera has edged forward to close the gap accordingly. All of that photographic framing raised with the intimacy for a strikingly balanced posture taken. 

LESSON #2: COMPETITNG ROMANTIC REALITIES– That is until reality hits in You & I for these adult characters, where the rush and revealed truths slow them down. Both Joseph and Sarah have ducked the potential of being together for decades now. Time has created more animosity than curiousness, particularly with Joseph being a married father. While flames are certainly present, any carnal needs carry different triggers and risks at this point. The future-minded “what’s best for each other” prognostication couldn’t be foggier or more disquieting. Compared to younger reunited lovers, only mature people who already know each other’s shorthand think that way.

The scripted monologues and traded barbs between Summer Shelton and Clayne Crawford spell out all of the spoken and unspoken needs and wants simmering out of their characters. Led by Shelton calling the shots, the two offer a pair of truly sublime performances. Sarah and Joseph are more stalwart than desperate. Sharing difficult scenes together, it’s marvelous to observe the trust they let each other have in their moments to embolden a stance or unravel one in front of the other. Their pauses and stares often sear greater than their words. 

Some of the few places to exhale come from excellent complimentary original song interludes from Louisville singer-songwriter Carly Johnson. Her stellar midpoint song of “Take Care” ushers in a smooth time shift where the characters’ central encounter takes a springboarding leap to evocative new territory for their histories. Carly returns with a pair of end credits songs– “My Moon” and “Burn Your Fears”-- which massage the resulting coda to fit the unknown future of the central pair. The gentleness shines through so well. 

Altogether, Summer Shelton has composed a pungent expanse of reflective maturity with You & I that puts honesty on the “what if” sliding doors many viewers may feel when comparing their own histories of love. The entirety of this film’s course exudes thoughtful reflection and a wise restraint borne from the romantic predicament on screen. You & I is passionate without being overtly explicit, yet the reverberating echoes of those instinctual feelings are intense and even morose in their own way. This one will sit with you after Carly’s done crooning.