Hav Plenty

Here's what writer/director/actor Christopher Scott Cherot's debut film--inexplicably a hit at Sundance earlier this year--has plenty of: bad acting, mediocre one-liners, irritating asides delivered directly to the lens, unattractive compositions, schizophrenic cutting, and low-budget chutzpah. I have nothing against amateur filmmakers who are willing to max out their credit cards in order to follow their dreams, but it helps if a) you have something to say that might at least hypothetically interest somebody who doesn't know you personally, and b) if you scrape up enough cash so that you aren't forced to include takes in which your actors clearly flub their lines. Cherot, demonstrating a certain hangdog charm but no real acting ability to speak of, plays a struggling writer who accepts an invitation to spend New Year's with a friend and winds up resisting the romantic and/or sexual advances of every female within a 20-mile radius; is it just me, or is this maybe a tad narcissistic? Not recommended. (M. D'Angelo)