This is the kind of film where, as it's unfurling, you can play a whole host on online games, set your Virgin digibox for the next day, pick your proboscis thoroughly, and know you're not missing anything. Wanna know more?
All the characters feel assembled from various spare parts of other, much better movies. You have the failed scriptwriter (maybe he worked on this production) recovering from a bad break-up, his douchey best friend who hands out bad dating advice like Smarties, the terrible agent more interested in a quick buck than the career of his client, and of course, the love interest... Sarah, a kooky Brit who happens to be into surfing.
Listening to this crap, I experienced people not talking like people, awful pop songs being warbled through endless montages, facile complication upon complication being heaped up in a way it never would in real life, and sex scenes to chaste I think even the Vatican might approve. I'm someone who spends half his life tucked away inside... And even I can tell the phoniness of everything here pertaining to real life. It fails HARD on every single level to paint the picture of a convincing relationship, or being in the least bit entertaining.
So there. 3/10
