This is the first and last time I've seen Miranda July in (or behind) a movie, and I actually find it a little surprising. Despite being a little hard to grasp it's a great looking movie. There's a lot of clean, considered slo-mo and a cool, languid quality that occupies the other end of the spectrum from the scrappy handheld aesthetic of The Hurt Locker and the Bourne films that's still so popular.

The two main characters are newly divorced shoe salesman Richard (Swersey, who looks spookily like Vincent Gallo) and child-like, misfit performance artist Christine (July) and most of the movie's concerned with the stumbling romance they embark upon. It's not easy for them to see eye to eye as they both live complicated inner lives and each one is gripped by a pathological strangeness - in an early scene the hero runs outside to set his hand on fire in a fit of inspiration.

A host of quirky secondary characters orbit them like planets with their own ecologies, from a pair of wannabe-promiscuous teenage girls who encourage very unsocial behaviour in a co-worker of Richard's to the aloof art gallery director Christine's desperate to get the attention of and who has her own secret yearning for love.

It's a love story rendered by someone well schooled in the independent cinema world, and while the script and the pace won't be for everyone, it's a good example of the creative craft of filmmaking.