I know of a situation very similar to the one presented in the film. This two guys challenge the other about having sex with each other without changing their own perceptions about who they were. It became a big joke because although they got very near, apparently, never ever happened. Funnily enough they both had, separately, an homosexual experience with a stranger. It is absurd to think that two human beings could not make love if there is a minimum of attraction, physical, intellectual, emotional. We have been brain washed about this factor. Homosexuals have no fear, not really, about straight sex but heterosexuals have an irrational fear of gay sex because, I believe, they are terrified of the fact they may like it or feel comfortable with it and then a flood of insecurities will follow. Under that umbrella "Humpday" gets it absolutely right. They don't get to it because of fear of themselves, plain and simple. But the whole thing could have been told in 30 minutes. Improvisations are fun if one has the sense to administrate and cut. Edit, edit and edit leaving the surprises alive and "Humpday" spends an inordinate amount of time saying the same things. However I had fun and the three leads are terrific.

"Humpday," Lynn Shelton's indie about straight men attempting gay porn for an erotic film festival, has been praised for its honest portrayal of male relationships, but any goodwill I had for the film was squandered on the intensely dislikable protagonist, the (come on) unbelievable plot line, and complete lack of dramatic payoff. "Humpday" is a stillborn Sundance fiasco with few if any redeeming qualities.

The premise, while certainly original, takes shape only after overcoming a rickety stepladder of clichéd comic situations. You know them: crazy old friend needs a place to crash, husband forgets wife's special dinner, husband lies, digs himself deeper. The situations might have been forgivable in an ends-justify-the-means sort of way, but the film is being sold on its premise and its title, and fails to deliver as advertised.

The principal cast is small and they argue a lot. There's Ben (Mark Duplass), the idiot husband who plays both sides, either blaming his wild friend for his own decisions or condescendingly touting his "great" relationship with his wife as a wildcard for his reckless behavior, his buddy Andrew (Joshua Leonard), the slovenly, worldly hipster whose artsy lesbian acquaintances spark the drunken conversation that leads to the auspicious idea, and Ben's eternally forgiving wife, Anna (Alycia Delmore), whose ability to tolerate her husband's stupidity is surely her greatest asset. Most of their dialogue is improvised, and the film frequently feels more like six fifteen minutes scenes than a properly paced comedic feature.

The laughs are few and far between the clunky roundabout verbal tennis matches, and are completely undercut by the characters. It's assumed we feel Ben and Andrew's friendship at least peripherally, and the filmmaker portrays them as lovable, misguided heroes, though the 'misguided' bit is the only part that really seeps through.

Worse yet, the script only lamely attempts to legitimize Ben or Andrew's inexplicable desire to see the act to its completion. Even sober, neither will back out of having sex with the other, in what we can only assume is the female writer/director's misinformed representation of machismo. And when Ben tells his wife, "I'm not sure why I want to do this," it reads as a screenwriter's confession. The two behave like stubborn children for an hour, only to somewhat appropriately chicken out when the moment arrives, and the film becomes more an examination of exceedingly weak characters than their bond of friendship as a result.

"Humpday" brings very little to the independent film scene, and is never as funny or controversial as the trailer might lead you to believe. Truth told, the film plays it safe, reducing its homosexual content to the type of jokes you would expect in any given PG-13 sex comedy. There's precious little genuine human interaction on display, and while the cop- out ending imagines itself a more profound statement than its alternative, it ultimately cancels out the only interesting thing the film has going for it. It's a reaction I couldn't anticipate, but I've never been so disappointed by a lack of gay porn.

It's simplistic and inaccurate to say this is a movie about homophobia. The two guys are not homophobic in the least. If anything it's about peer pressure and machismo, albeit in an unconventional, post-feminist context.

The movie's framework, two straight guys considering whether or not to have sex with each other for an Art/Porn movie, generates an absurd dialog. Does Art justify a willful, forced, deviation from the norm, or is a willful, forced, deviation from the norm automatically Art? The subtext is about moving out of your comfort zone, and your motivation for doing so.

I went into this not knowing what to expect. As a gay man, I resisted it, finding the plot line forced. But as it went on, I bought into it. I think it was the two main actors who sold it, primarily.

The premise sounds comic and coarse, but the storyline is actually subtle and gentle. Not easy to sell that kind of bait and switch.