Slight, and slightly precious, this wide-eyed indie cross-pollinates the romantic comedy with the offbeat ensemble drama. Whether the results seem like Robert Altman lite or a more profound When Harry Met Sally depends upon the sensibilities of the viewer. Writing and directing her first feature, video artist Miranda July grapples with the terror and exhilaration of human interaction: love, sex, companionship, and fate. These characters -- including July's own Christine, the aspiring artist whose tentative romance frames the story -- rarely understand their own needs, let alone each other's. Their lives intersect, often in unexpected ways, yet fear and misunderstanding usually threaten any lasting connection. As a filmmaker, July favors episodes over arcs and wry chuckles over belly laughs. As a performer, she proves compellingly ethereal: evocative where she could have settled for quirky shtick. Ditto for John Hawkes, of Deadwood fame, who provides a winsome variation on the sort of wounded man-child who pops up in any number of features at Sundance every year. Really, there's not a bad performance to be found anywhere in the film. It's the overall tone that's as likely to annoy as enchant. July makes judicious use of talented composer Michael Andrews, whose previous credits include Donnie Darko and TV's Wonderfalls. His compositions help sustain the mood of ramshackle momentum and the moments of sudden, tenuous transcendence.