A stylized pipsqueak comedy from performance artist, director, and deadpan conceptualist Miranda July. Her spaced husband (Hamish Linklater) talks to the moon, and July speaks in a wee voice as her sick cat. The film floats as a bubble of whimsy, like Pee-wee Herman and David Lynch conversing underwater in a medicated dream. There is some fine night imagery, yet this seems to be the back end of a vanguard that has come and gone. 2011.

1.0 stars

— David Elliott

This movie is not currently in theaters.


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