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) — David Elliott
This movie is not currently in theaters.