Saturday, 5 November 2011

The Future, dir/wr. Miranda July, st. Miranda July, Hamish Linklater

Sophie (July) and Jason (Linklater), mid-30s and full of hipster apathy, decide to adopt a stray cat in lieu of... what? Kids? Commitment? Just having something to do? The cat, Pawpaw, yes the cat they plan to adopt, disconnectedly narrates the action in a cutesy cat-voice. Elsewhere, Sophie's overlarge comforter T-shirt crawls across the street towards her, whilst Jason converses with the moon. If it all sounds a bit performance art, it's probably because it is, or at least it's how the film started out. Miranda July is an artist, an actor, a musician. a designer and here, a director, and although quite talented as she clearly is, it's hard to see past the indulgence on display. The brilliant Jon Brion provides the languid score that exacerbates the tedium and the film as a whole never quite goes anywhere. That said, that's probably the point; Sophie and Jason sit on their couch opposite each other, both on laptops, sharing the odd private joke, both have no-through-road jobs counterbalanced with higher, unfulfilled aspirations, money's tight and they're wondering what their lives have been leading up to; if The Future is supposed to be a mirror held up to the iGeneration, its idea of what's reflected isn't far off.