A list of films directed by women, in alphabetical order by director. To make the list manageable, I'm adding 1…
When a couple decides to adopt a stray cat their perspective on life changes radically, literally altering the course of time and space and testing their faith in each other and themselves.
I am convinced that each and every one of us has this friend or acquaintance that tries too hard to be smart, different, hip, philosophical, intellectual, profound and unique. But they never are any of those things. What they are is annoying, pretentious, fake and shallow.
This film is that friend. And its family. And its circle of closest artsy fartsy friends. All wrapped up and stuffed in the body of a cat. A fucking talking cat. Oh, and a talking moon. Yep, the moon fucking talks as well.
I am amazed how anyone can be allowed to crap out a piece of pretentious, pointless shit as this. Hold on. Let me correct that. Shit has a purpose. It gets…
Whilst watching the latest quirky and oh so self-aware film from Miranda July, The Future, I unexpectedly put my foot through my television in a fit of uncontrollable rage. I feel it is irresponsible of Miss July not to provide an official notice with the film warning the audience that it may cause such unexpected reactions. I am now without a TV, nursing a sore foot and haunted by memories of her sickeningly smug movie.
No doubt she feels her work is clever, insightful, funny and full of profundity. However, I think she may have confused melancholic whimsy for deep insight or great universal truths. The film is narrated by a terminally ill cat. A fucking cat. If that in…
I've noticed something about myself. I tend to generate the most hatred for films I want to like, but can't. The films that have so much potential to be a favorite of mine, but I find them offensive and dangerous. Miranda July's The Future is in that special category. It induced so much rage that it took me a couple of days to see it for what it is. This is by no means the worst film I've ever seen... not even close. That doesn't stop me from hating it more than 99.9% of the films I've seen.
The Fucking Future is about a fucking annoying thirty five year old woman named Sophie who…
Tying a noose right now.
I chose to watch this out of curiosity after having read plenty of scathing reviews and seeing the trailer, which looked exactly like something I would deeply hate. So yes, expectations were low, but I still was not prepared for just how putrid Miranda July's The Future is. It's smug, cliché-ridden, pretentious mental masturbation of the most detestable kind. About five minutes in I had to pause and take a deep breath and 25 minutes later I stopped entirely and decided to go to bed before this shit-heap ruined what was otherwise a good day. I woke up knowing I had to finish it and, begrudgingly, I just did. I have to say it's really, truly as ghastly as people…
Profound in the sense that it made me realise life's too short to finish every movie you start. No star rating as I turned this shit off when I checked my watch to see if it was nearly over, to discover I was only 30 minutes in.
I really wanted to like this movie. But our female lead was too sickly sweet for me, and that made her later decisions confusing. The surreal aspects of this movie seemed out of sync with the beginning events. The voiceover of the cat might have been satirizing The Lovely Bones, I'm not sure. How that storyline played out really angered me. I mean, c'mon, really? You had to do that?
Bitter, sweet and sad film. Among all the characters, I love the shirt and CAT most.
This was the first Miranda July film I've seen, and I was immediately struck by the resemblance it bears to her writing. Her style is so unique and elegant, and that became the film's biggest asset. Otherwise, this movie just made me really sad, and not in a reflective/contemplative/philosophical way.
I adore 'Me And You And Everyone We Know' and so was really geared up for this... but I was surprisingly (and mostly) irritated by it.
This review reportedly contains spoilers. I can handle the truth.
I'm 30 years old, gut I can say that am not mature enough for this movie.
It's like when I was in primary school and they took the class to the theatre for some extremely artistic performance.
I was like... me eyes! my brain! me eyes! my brain!...
PS. I felt bad for the cat.
I liked the cat.
Few artists even dare this level of self-expression, which I should have been more mindful and respectful of when I first saw The Future, at LFF 2011, with unreasonably high expectations and a largely disapproving crowd (their displeasure was audible). Not that I was entirely ready for it then, but July's second feature probably gets closest to the definition of 'grower' in cinematic terms anyway - it becomes wiser as you mature alongside it. So, now aged 23, this makes more sense as a film about losing grip of the place you assumed was yours in the world, and finding inexplicable the fact that the home/life you woke up to today, though the same, makes less sense than yesterday. Like…
in my room.
Films Directed or Co-Directed by Women
The 2015 edition of the They Shoot Pictures, Don't They? 21st Century's Most Acclaimed Films list.
Incomplete data forced the…