Review of Tiny Furniture (2010) by Katrina C — 28 Feb 2012

This film is at its best when it's being horrifically, uncomfortably true to life. Once in a while it'll bend too far to go for a laugh or sneak in a too-cute line, but for the most part this film's business is staring unflinchingly into the bottomless abyss of my generation's prospects.

Maybe the types and mannerisms, the vocabulary, the sense of frustrated, impotent restlessness, maybe all these things only seem desperately familiar to me and a handful of others, but I think not. I think not, because I don't want the things this film says about me, my peers, and the world we have inherited, to be true, but I can't really argue against it either.

To be an arts grad in the new millennium means secretly suspecting that everything important has already been said and done, that there's nothing left to do but try to entertain ourselves while waiting for something to live for.

This isn't so much a comedy as a sardonic tragedy, I laughed because it hurt. Of course, the film itself is the best argument against its own attitude, here's a new filmmaker who managed to say something new, with skill, subtlety and expertise, that drew on her own experience of the world.

We can't all be Lena Dunham, but I'm glad Criterion recognized this for the rare and valuable work that it is.