Brief Interviews with Hideous Men

One hell of a date movie. A surgical examination of the male psyche based on David Foster Wallace's book and written and directed by John Krasinski, there is plenty of food for thought and argument.

An insightful, sharply written and unsettlingly amusing exploration of the darker elements of masculinity.

What this arid and arty exercise offers is the opportunity for a bunch of actors, many of them tethered to TV series, to deliver theatrical monologues pulsing with misogyny and narcissism. It's like second-rate Neil Labute.

A blast from the 1980s, when the idea that men were essentially rapists and women rapees was a popular way to score chicks on campus.

They’re not all hideous, the men who sit for interviews with a graduate student (Nicholson) and unload their dirty laundry. Sometimes they’re just feckless, or crass; some are even pitiable.

The question is, could someone turn these full-frontal-dudity snapshots into a satisfying, cohesive movie? Answer: no, but not for lack of trying.

As a film, Brief Interviews With Hideous Men is a disaster.