I have no idea what to say about this one. Solid performances, curious, complex characters, and an unusual storytelling format show a single mother raising a son in the summer of 1979 as she pulls in an unusual cast of characters to help in his upbringing. There are fantastic voiceovers with the characters’ future selves describing what will happen. It’s funny and warm and well worth watching, but the most interesting thing I have to say about it is what happened afterwards. As a kid growing up at this time with a single mother, the film should have really resonated, except it didn’t. The film was completely foreign to me. I couldn’t identify with it in any way whatsoever and so, although it was funny, it felt tinny to me. A few days later, I met with some other film friends who both adored the movie and explained why. They are both males of approximately the same age who had single mothers struggling with concerns about the adequacy of their parenting. They wanted their sons raised right and were afraid they may not be adequate. They had the upbringing portrayed in the film. That’s what struck me. It’s astonishing how film speaks to different people in different ways. My single mother couldn’t have cared less about these concerns. I was property, an accessory to her personality. Not only would the notion of reaching out to anyone else to be a positive influence on me be absolutely anathema to her parenting and personality, but she always actively drove a wedge between me and anyone who would care about me. She was the only one that mattered and it made for a very lonely childhood. So although I’m sure Twentieth Century Women is a lovely movie, the village raising the child may be simply far too foreign for a viewer who grew up on an island of one.