Body Shots

"I'll give you a ride/On my jelly roll/But I won't give you nothin'/From my soul." That opening anonymous quote is about as succinct a summation as any for this lugubrious, pretentious exercise in Gen Y navel-gazing that follows eight single young Los Angelenos through a club-hopping Friday night and a what-the-hell-happened Saturday morning after they pair off in various combinations. Accompanying their dalliances are direct-address commentaries by the characters on contemporary love and sex that make the "Confessional" segments on The Real World look like revelations of zen wisdom. Those pseudo-insightful asides are plenty bad enough, but things go from very bad to even worse in the final half hour, dedicated almost exclusively to a he-said/she-said date rape scenario. The incident becomes less about exploring lack of communication between sexual partners than a public service announcement for why friends should help friends avoid binge beer-drinking. With its marathon sex scenes and graphically trite narration, Body Shots generally feels like porn with delusions of social commentary. Not recommended. (S. Renshaw)