A Celebration of Miranda July’s Oddball Parent-Child Relationships

An eclectic pair of schemers drill their daughter to swindle and pilfer money just like them. A single father assists his daughter as she digs a plot in their backyard, so that he may bury her alive. A soon-to-be-divorced dad neglects his two sons, so they ditch elementary school and start flirting with strangers on AOL. Sound like folks you’d recognize at a family party? Possibly not, unless you’re a character in a Miranda July film. These bizarre parent-children relationships float in the warped ether of July’s filmography, a peculiar mix of shared anxieties, trauma, hobbies, and perhaps, love. For the writer/director/actor’s birthday, it’s time to celebrate these complex family dynamics, as surreal and bonkers as they are.

July’s most recent film, Kajillionaire, focalizes on a wonky parent-child dynamic. An only child, Old Dolio (Evan Rachel Wood) executes elaborate heists under the stringent command of her old parents (masterfully played by Richard Jenkins and Debra Winger) — they control her as if she were a remote-operated toy, a handy tool rather than their special little girl. But she’s used to it. They’ve melded her in a way so that she is theirs and theirs only, tutoring her to be a perfect somersaulting con artist instead of a spelling whiz or a math pro. And her name, Old Dolio? Yeah, that comes from an elderly gentleman who won the lottery. Perhaps, her parents bet, the original Old Dolio will take notice and grant her his large sum. (He doesn’t.)

Being both a mother and a daughter, July has deep ties to this complicated parent-child narrative. In fact, in an interview with Shondaland, the director explained that she couldn’t have made Kajillionaire without that pertinent connection. “I’m circling around the tyranny in this parent-child relationship that both parties are kind of set up to betray each other,” July said. “The parents will describe a world to their child that is not going to be the child’s world. Then it’s the kids’ job to leave and let go. And that’s this kind of heartbreaking betrayal that’s just built in.” Sure, the scheming traditions of Old Dolio’s parents are more than off-putting. But July’s perplexing description here does not merely apply to her odd characters — it’s a more universal concept with parents and children.

Kajillionaire hones in on this guardian relationship, but July clings to the dynamic in her other films, too. If you thought the parents of Kajillionaire were oddballs, wait until you meet Marshall, the father featured in The Future. Not only does he allow his young daughter to dig her own live grave in their backyard, he seems to be encouraging her to follow through with the plan. And then there’s Me and You and Everyone We Know, which has a fantastically grotesque introductory scene: the father, Richard, douses his hand in gasoline and draws a lighter to his palm. As he does, he plants himself outside the window of his sons’ bedroom. Why would he do this? Even when they’re not the heart and soul of the film, July’s guardians jut into her stories with intensely individual quirks and foibles.

Relate to them, hate them, or simply gawk at them — July’s depictions of parental relationships certainly stand out. The recurring motif has persisted since the early days of the filmmaker’s career, stemming in her very first short, Atlanta. In the 1996 film, July plays both Dawn and Mary Schnabel, mother and 12-year-old daughter. She cuts between herself, hopping into the shoes of a parent and a child, discussing the young girl’s desire to become an Olympic swimmer from both ends. The mother version of July pressures her daughter, the daughter version hesitates. It’s a classic domineering parental tale, retold with July’s erratic style.

A hidden treasure nestled in July’s sea of parent-child relationships is Madeline’s Madeline. An ethereal film created by Josephine Decker, July stars as an overbearing single mother with a hoard of anxieties about parenting. She handles the role with grace, a sure sign that she’s well-versed in the subject. Oddly enough, July’s lonely character struggles with expressing herself — clearly, the opposite of the artist’s true self. But the narrative, which pokes its nose into themes of stand-in guardians and the power dynamics of parenting, wraps July’s collection into a tidy (albeit untamed) set.

Some parent-child relationships perch at front-and-center of July’s films, demanding all attention, the sole subject of her narratives. Others take to the sidelines. Some manipulate, others neglect. Each of July’s kinships is different (and zanier) than the last, a friendly reminder that these bonds are evolving, testy, hard to explain. They are surreal, but they’re also realistic in a sense: incredibly flawed, distinct, and layered like real kinship. They may not be traditional “comfort” films; however, they do provide a sense of comfort within their utterly strange narratives. Because, hey, parents are weird. Kids are too. Feeling the imperfections of these give-and-take relationships is a near-universal concept, and thankfully, July never fails to acknowledge that.

Fletcher Peters is a pop culture writer and rom-com obsessive based in New York. Alongside Decider, she’s written for Paste Magazine, Film School Rejects, Jezebel, and elsewhere. 

Where to Stream Kajillionaire