I watched You, Me and Everyone We Know this week. It represented, to me, what is worst about indie films, though I do love them. It was arty in a very self-conscious way: gratuitous shots of leaves or the sun, the whole scene with the goldfish on top of the car. It had no arc, and I mean no arc. The pacing was slow, painful in some parts. And there were whole story lines (the teenage girls and the blowjob, for example) that I just did not understand in the context of the film as a whole.
That said, I did like aspects of it. The characters were great. I especially liked the little boy and his explanation of the chore wheel. "There's a metal thing and it helps. With the turning." The movie was a bit disturbing, as a whole, on the idea of children being unsupervised and doing wildly inappropriate things (meeting adult women in chat rooms for example).
I want to love indie film. And every so often there are some great ones (Roger, Dodger; Pieces of April; others I am blanking on right now), but why, in general, do indie films feel they are exempt from the basic ideas of storytelling?
Arc! I want arc dammit!