I bet if you asked a lot of people to play a word association game with the phrase “indie film,” they would probably respond with nothing. Literally, “nothing.” The major criticism of these films by the masses is that nothing has really happened by the time the credits role. This is true to the extent that these films do have less going on than a Michael Bay or Jerry Bruckheimer film. There are a lot of filmgoers who prefer the former, however, and with all due respect to escapism, regular life is often much more complex, and much more interesting.

“Mutual Appreciation,” is one of those films. It’s about nothing more than the lives and relationships of a few young people in the city, and it is not terribly exciting. Alan (Justin Rice) is a talented young singer/songwriter who has come to the city trying to make a living from his music. He finds support in his good friend Lawrence (writer & director Andrew Bujalski) and Lawrence’s girlfriend Ellie (Rachel Clift). The camera is like a fly on the wall, watching the three of them go about their lives and relationships (it also, like a fly might, sees only in black and white).

I’ll admit that for a good part of “Mutual Appreciation,” I wondered when something would start happening, hoping for semblance of a conflict. Most of this movie is just people talking, and a few times, making out. But interesting things happen periodically, and it is paced extremely well. Alan meets Sara (Seung-Min Lee), a college-radio DJ, and before the end of their brief romance, she introduces him to her brother, a drummer whom with he will collaborate for a nice musical interlude about halfway through the movie. Meanwhile, Lawrence is offered a part in a small play, which would consist of men reading monologues written by women.

The important story arc, though, is the relationship between Alan and Ellie. From the first shot you can tell they connect, that he pines for her. But in walks Lawrence from stage-left, and you realize that these two aren’t together, but rather, as Ellie puts it, like asymptotes, “those two lines that, just like, never [cross].” Sara is a sweetheart, but Alan wants what he can’t have. It’s a common tragedy, just like we’ve all experienced, and you’ll like these characters because they’re a whole lot more emphatic than most of the real-life hipsters you know. They’re extremely open characters, and the moments that come closest to drama are during unabashedly honest exchanges.

But it’s never overly dramatic, and none of the characters come close to the numbing thoughtfulness-cum-painful-awkwardness that Zach Braff would have you believe is characteristic of people our age. The whole thing is just pleasant, and if you want to be pleased, you could do a whole lot worse than this movie.

Which leaves the problem of, “what’s it all about?” Nothing really, I’ll hold, but life, and dealing with relationships that aren’t usually complex enough to warrant this sort of storytelling. But it’s like when some of the characters in this movie confront each other about their feelings, even if they know it will serve no greater purpose: it just needs to get out there, and I, for one, understand that completely.