If Quentin Tarantino and a woman made out of horrible movies had a baby and then punched it in the head a lot...it would also hate this movie. This movie is veritable house of cards constructed of candid "insights" on life (analogies aplenty) and held together by watered down attempts at graphic shock value...also there are some cards.
James Woods' actual talent only serves to accentuate the bear-wearing-a-funny-hat that is the rest of the movie.
Also, this movie offers a rare chance to see Michael Rapaport rape someone on screen (that is, outside of a courtroom environment.) In conclusion, directors should make better movies than this and have two names.
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