The style of the film is intrinsically dead pan, documentary and Chris Waitt the director, really brings it off. At times like me, I sure many of the audience cringed at his gaucheness, at having a relationship of any standing with a member of the other sex. During this journey he notes down his faults and ideas in a note book. His initial attempts to arrange interviews with his long list of ex-girlfriends, are met with notable failure, no interested is generated by the project and some choose to blank him, or threaten him, one with legal action pending. His only supporter is his pragmatic mother, who even is brave enough to help him tidy up his squalid flat, filled with toys and unlikely to meet any females approval. Alongside visiting his lamentable past, he also tries to find a new girlfriend, and subscribes to face book. Names of women are rapidly and ceremonially crossed out.

This self mockery continues, sometimes to extremes, especially when he visit’s a sadomasochist, in a puerile attempt to cure his erection problems, which are also hindering his attempts to secure a genuine girlfriend. He also takes copious amounts of Viagra, forcing him into demanding flagrantly for woman to have sex with him. For me, the comedy works best when it is more tied to reality and less so when it so blatant. There are some surprisingly warm and human elements in this film, some great observations, about modern day life.

If you are in a long term happy relationship, you can sit back and revel in this film, if not this film might be painful viewing.

Francis H. Powell is originally from England and moved to Paris in 1999. In addition to being a writer (articles, songs and poems), he is a painter, DJ and English trainer. For more information, read his complete bio.

Comments (0)