The film's a group effort that is finally and mostly the product of one man -- Eddie Jemison (shown at left) who wrote, co-directed, co-produced and stars in the leading role -- at whose feet one can lay the praise or blame. I hope Mr. Jemison wears a size 15 shoe. Pace the late John Cassavetes whose black-and-white early American "art" movies Jemison has surely seen and here tries to ape, but it takes more than decent b/w cinematography and men behaving not just badly but ultra-stupidly to create something redeeming.
That cinematography and its editing, both by co-director Sean Richardson, is worth seeing -- though in the initial scene at a railway station, it takes awhile to get one's footing/viewing. Soon we're in a practically empty bar, watching our quartet of males, led by Jemison's character "Ditch," behaving in an irredeemably dumb way. As the movie goes along, this guy just gets worse and less believable with each scene.
OK: Maybe this is just "guys being guys." But there is a limit. Pushing the envelope is one thing, but Jemison rolls it into a ball, stomps on it and then sets it ablaze. Ditch's behavior is so thoroughly out of line in every way that you simply can't believe that the other three "friends" would tolerate him for more than a few minutes. These include the tall and lanky Gat (David Jensen, on poster at top and above, right), Artie aka The Professor (Joe Chrest, below, left) and Leon (Wayne Pére, below, right, and two photos above), the best-looking but also the shyest of the four, who is relegated to using a voice box in order to speak and be heard.
The women are played by Laura Lamson (below, right, and at bottom) as Ditch's wife, Mary, and Andrea Frankle (below, left), as his sister, Evie. Both do an excellent job, with Ms Lamson in particular able to create a whole character and space around herself via a quiet but insistent strength. This goes a long way in making the movie worth sitting through.
Jealousy, desire, shame, anger and mostly stupidity keep the ball rolling along here, but the movie's weakest link is its very tenuous hold on reality. None of these guys seem to have a job, save The Prof, who -- wait for it -- sells magazine subscriptions for a living. Granted we're in the New Orleans area, post-Katrina and the Gulf Oil Spill, but still, we've all got to earn our keep. How these guys even afford a meal is questionable.