Tiny Furniture – review

Aura's life has stalled. She's a feckless arts graduate, returned from college to leach off mum, bicker with sis and wander around New York telling herself a story – about the crappy job, the casually horrible men, her crummy video art – that keeps the days rolling. There's been spiteful murmuring about Tiny Furniture's star/writer/director Lena Dunham, who at 23 won SXSW's narrative feature prize and has since been commissioned to write a series for HBO . She's the dying "meh" of mumblecore , apparently; she's pretentious , she's fat – the sort of bitchy asides that greet success come quick and early. Dunham, who pads through much of this extremely well-written, often funny and very touching film in the semi-nude, doesn't give a damn about any of it.