Mike White, the writer of Chuck & Buck, School of Rock and Nacho Libre, is unquestionably a talented fellow, and there are some decent moments in his directorial debut.
But within 10 minutes of the credits rolling I found my fingers itching to get themselves around the picture's virtual neck and throttle it to a painful death.
The problem is not so much that the film deals in pounding cliches (though it does), nor that it trivialises psychological breakdown (though it does that too); it is the unmistakable whiff of indie smugness about the enterprise that makes it so excruciating. Look how awful the suburbs are. Let's all laugh at the deluded idiots with their silly jobs and their trivial home lives. Look how much cooler we seem by comparison.
The reliable Molly Shannon stars as a lonely employee of some dull firm who goes through a series of jarring life changes after her dog dies in a neighbour's yard. Introduced to the vegan lifestyle by a young man (Peter Sarsgaard) who works for a pet adoption programme, she begins to question her values and to take an interest in animal welfare.
Unhappily her new friend turns out to be asexual - though that's only half the truth, we suspect - and, after enduring his rejection, she begins to lose control of her affairs. This particularly inconveniences her uptight, neurotic sister-in-law (Laura Dern) and her, well, uptight, neurotic boss (Josh Pais). One can only sympathise with them.
The bland, characterless streets remind one of the world of Todd Solondz, but White shows none of that director's taste for the jugular. Rather than revealing true suburban horrors, he contents himself with laughing at the harmless foibles of ordinary lives.
Shannon, a fine actress, fights hard to make sense of her role, but she can't quite dispel the overpowering fug of sanctimoniousness. The film is not quite a total dog, but she deserves better.
