What happens when you get a bunch of Canadian sixes and try to make some kind of polemic about sexism? This. This right here.
Donny is a douchebag photographer who's only in it for the poontang. Boy, is he a bad guy! He JUST USES WOMEN! He bangs women behind his girlfriend's back. He makes her do his laundry and do all the shopping. One night during dinner with friends, he tries to hit on his best friend's girlfriend. Donny's girlfriend catches him and everyone tells him he's a jerk and leaves. So he gets drunk, make unsuccessful booty calls and needs to throw up. So he goes to the bathroom and...FALLS INTO SOME KIND OF TIME HOLE. Or something. Either way, he falls into the lair of some society of feminists. What follows is A Christmas Carol where Donny's shown the error of his ways. We're subjected to vignettes of Donny being a dick with women, how he's screwed their lives up and a whole lot of really badly written faux-feminist crap that sounds like it was written by a guy because it was.
Joel Olson's one gear consists of smirking. He can't even lie convincingly. He just smirks. "I'm sorry," he smirks. "I love you," he smirks. "Don't kill me," he smirks. Dominique St. Croix does a passable job as the dominatrix...er...queen of the feminists but that's not saying a lot given that she gets to say things like "you just throw women away like trash."
Throughout the whole mess, you get the feeling that film actually believes that they've come up with something new. It's only listed as sci-fi because the society wears belted lavender tights conducive to camel toe.
If you want to know how not to write dialog, this is your movie.
