Kajillionaire (Miranda July)

I was frankly so put off by the melancholy whimsy of Miranda July's first two features that I was kind of dreading Kajillionaire. Her first film, Me and You and Everyone We Know, worked a bit too hard to turn a collection of doodles about standard-issue loneliness into a cri de coeur on the deleterious effects of the Internet and a grand statement about How We Live Now. The Future, meanwhile, was just a muddle, examining Generation X's failure to measure up to an older model of adulthood without considering how raced and classed those models always were.

But July has grown quite a bit as a filmmaker, and although there are aspects of Kajillionaire that really don't work -- I almost dislike the film, to be honest -- overall it's an impressive and unexpected achievement. Part of the film's surprise has to do with its marketing, and the planimetric, faux-Wes Anderson staging that offers quirky fodder for stills and trailers. The studio make Kajillionaire look like a wacky family heist film -- a sunny, wryly comedic Shoplifters, essentially. In fact, this is a film about abuse.

As any psychology textbook will tell you, the fundamental rule of abuse is isolation. Whether the victim is a spouse, a child, or an elder, the abuser must create a hermetic universe with its own warped rituals and behaviors, and shield that universe from external scrutiny. If the abuse victim sees a world in which other kinds of behavior are possible, or meets someone who is outside the system and can provide an objective evaluation of that victim's situation, there is the threat that the abuser might lose his or her power.

Con artist parents Robert (Richard Jenkins) and Theresa (Debra Winger) have raised their daughter Old Dolio (Evan Rachel Wood) away from all external influence. There is no indication that she has been to school, or has ever had friends. Her parents have carefully withheld affection from her, and when she asks for it, or expresses any need that falls outside of her parents' selfish parameters, they explicitly mock her. Early in the film, we see that Old Dolio is very uncomfortable with being touched. Her awkward behavior could indicate some neuro-atypicality, which has made her that much easier to manipulate.

In the course of one of their scams, Robert and Theresa make a strategic error. They bring an outsider, Melanie (Gina Rodriguez), into their world. As we discover, they make this mistake for their own selfish, twisted reasons. But this disruption of the enclosed family triad is the beginning of the end. Melanie begins to witness how the couple have infantilized and manipulated Old Dolio, treating their entire relationship with her as if it were a long con. (Even her very name is part of a failed grift. This young woman has literally been denied any subjectivity outside of criminal utility. She may as well be called Three Card Monty.)

July understands the nature of trauma, that long-term abuse and neglect form a kind of language that must be unlearned and recoded. Melanie reaches out to Old Dolio under the guise of a bargain, providing fake caring for cash. This is the one con that Theresa would not sign on for -- for her, even pretending to love her daughter was a bridge too far. By slipping into the syntagmatic position of the Mother -- which has always been occupied by Money -- Melanie can access Old Dolio's capacity for trust, which is first and foremost understood as a willingness to be duped. 

What is love, after all, if not a willing suspension of disbelief? The fact that it may not last forever means it could be construed as just another con job. But what makes it different from other scams -- what makes it "real" -- is that both partners are in on it. As Kajillionaire concludes, we see Old Dolio and Melanie engaging in an even trade: a fictitious past for an uncertain future. By cashing in a full eighteen years of phony parenting, Old Dolio finally gets her share.