Take whatever expectations you have about Miranda July’s second movie, The Future, and throw them out a sixth-story window. It’s a far darker, colder, steelier film than Me and You and Everyone We Know. If that was a romantic comedy, this is a romantic tragedy. Whereas that one began and ended with images of the sun, this one begins and ends in a dim Los Angeles apartment. True, there’s that familiar July bizarreness (a talking cat, a T-shirt that crawls on the ground), and the dialogue has that July edge, and the soundtrack has that aquatic July remoteness, but the film takes a strange turn halfway through and doesn’t end happily. It is, however, breathtaking. (See Movie Times)