A portrait of a "regular" guy, who spends his days barely getting by in a series of dead-end jobs, and his nights perfecting his comedy routine in a series of sparsely-attended "open-mike" sessions at local comedy clubs, this film fails to deliver anything but a depressing series of vignettes centered around it's main character, played by Frank Whaley (who also wrote and directed). How any would-be stand up comic could keep trying to be funny, and yet be so patently unfunny, and for so long, is beyond me; I've seen my share of mediocre comedians, but they all pale in comparison to Jimmy, whose depressing routines consist of what appear to be confessionals, centered around his miserable existence. And then we get to experience this miserable existence first-hand, as the film cuts between Jimmy's stand-up routines and his personal life. What is the point of this sorry exercise? Otherwise effective, and at times touching, performances by Carla Gugino, Ethan Hawke, and Mr. Whaley himself are wasted here.