What a shame this movie was so dull. So many great actors, some doing a terrific job. Chris Eigeman, for example, is a master of this type of intimate, low-budget film which, with far less editing than is seen in slicker productions, is at times closer to theater than to Hollywood; his delivery is natural and his body conveys enough that the extensive cutting it takes to make some actors come alive can be safely dispensed with. For pure fun, the great Peter Bogdanovich spoofs the insider impersonations that are a well-known aspect of his conversation.
Sadly, such quality is not the standard. John Lehr starts out painfully over the top as Miles, and Carlos Jacott as Felix is barely believable until the bar scene well into the middle of the film - although he redeems himself with a strong and funny performance in the last ten minutes of the film. The couple whose apartment is the only setting are an unlikeable and unconvincing pair much given to excesses of acting that bring out rather than overcome the weaker points of the script.
In fact, unlikeability is at the center of the film: Felix, about whom what little plot there is revolves, is known to all but his 'best friend', Jessie, as a louse; Jessie's wife describes Felix accurately as an asshole. Unfortunately few characters are more sympathetic, and only Eigeman's Fletcher, who rarely appears, is pleasant enough to carry the viewer past the stilted dialogue and melodramatic hamming that are the movie's basic features.
