Over the weekend I watched All The Real Girls for the first time since it came out for a couple of reasons. One, it's been a weird year for David Gordon Green fans, watching his two weakest films (Snow Angels — with its nervy naturalism eventually undercut by an all-too-schematic doom-and-gloom plot and heavy-handed symbols straight from the worst middlebrow novels — and the pointless '80s simulacrum of Pineapple Express) come out in quick succession. Was I overrating Green based on false memories, or is he just going through a weird transitional phase? Two, I was wondering if All The Real Girls is secretly one of the most influential films of the decade.

The answers are no and yes. Sort of.

Five years down the line, All The Real Girls retains its position as one of the most visually distinctive American independent films produced. Working with immensely talented DP Tim Orr, Green sets pretty much every scene to "stun." Unfortunately, that hasn't really rubbed off on followers; as in George Washington, Green wanted to bring a new way of looking at poor regional areas to the screen, making them as gorgeous as any movie set in ostensibly pretty settings. Instead, we got the self-consciously ugly Ballast. Oh well.

All The Real Girls' true influence extends in two directions, mostly pernicious. There's the issue of score: as in George Washington, Green loves droning, post-rock guitars suffusing everything in an atmospheric haze, punctuated by the occasional indie-rock ballad (Will Oldham for the opening!). I don't recall this happening in independent films before Green, but it seems to be everywhere now (e.g. Bubble, Half Nelson). This isn't really that big a problem, though sometimes it makes movies blur together. Presumably this and the post-Juno wave of twee pop soundtracks will get into a battle to the death.

The other influence is a broader, thematic one. All The Real Girls is nothing if not embarrassingly unmediated in presenting all the soppy and jejune things young couples can say to each other when no one is listening. Sometimes this leads to emotional honesty; unfortunately, occasionally it leads to stupidly "quirky" lines like Zooey Deschanel's infamous "I had a dream that you grew a garden on a trampoline and I was so happy I invented peanut butter." This realm of affectation and self-conscious quirk in the name of emotional truth (as opposed to what it actually is: stupid, youthful self-indulgence of everything you think being interesting to other people) is, of course, directly how we got to Garden State and all its off-spring. In many respects, Zach Braff's emo template seems more than ever like an unacknowledged steal of All The Real Girls' aesthetic and proclivity for mawkishness without any of the things that made it interesting. On the bright side, as Matt Dentler once said, it also seems like a direct path to mumblecore. Unless that makes you angry too.