He (Crumley) is a Brooklyn-based technogeek who’s permanently attached to his camcorder. She (Buice) is a waitress who dabbles in art. They meet online, and after some friendly stalking, the couple agrees to hook up on one condition: Everything from snack preferences to sexual positions must be communicated sans speech. Before this no-budget flick can morph into Last Tango in Bushwick, however, accusations of herpes transmission lead to estrangement. Which, in turn, means lots of back-and-forth video letters explaining emotional hang-ups, which then become the material for confessional art projects about...zzzz...
Arin Crumley and Susan Buice’s autobiographical drama devoted to (de)constructing relationships in the new-media age pays tribute to a mighty romance, but the sweethearts’ crazy-sexy-cool infatuation isn’t with each other so much as their own pixelated reflections; unfettered Gen Z narcissism has never received such an elaborate, swooning valentine. Technology is the film’s true objet d’amour, with scenes lovingly staged to replicate MySpace home pages, digi-downloadable animation and lo-res podcasts. All of which would make Four Eyed Monsters seem cutting-edge if there were any edge to it whatsoever; its DIY experimental trappings and metamodern tweaking can’t hide what’s essentially a fuzzy romantic comedy for self-centered hipsters. (Opens Fri; Cinema Village.)—David Fear