The resulting film has the integrity and the ugliness of the truth. It's not true because it's ugly; no, it's ugly because it's true. full review

There's no colorful Boschian absurdism here, only soulless banter and projectile vomit. full review

One of those exercises in masculine self-pity and glib misogyny that frustrates because of its shortsightedness. full review

Yes, it feels true. But why bother? full review

This slovenly, self-indulgent riff on Charles Bukowski-like fringe-livers has all of the naked harshness of Bukowski with none of the poetry. full review

An appreciation that the pain is personal doesn't compensate for the picture's self-absorbed need to alienate. full review

The exuberant editing and puke-into-the-camera edginess indicate a film more interested in boasting of hell-raising than in exorcising it. full review

These two non-lovers have real chemistry, and it's hard not to be intoxicated by the strange cocktail of watching them together, even as the story appears to be going nowhere. full review