Cox has managed to recruit great actors only to elicit bafflingly melodramatic and stilted work. Emma Roberts, as an aspiring artist and the only female character with more than a couple speaking lines, is particularly wasted.

It's a derivative bore, all popped collars, douchey bros and hand-me-down psychology, that gets its characters up to their necks in borrowed money just long enough to have it really hurt when the accounts run dry.

As Hunt's life unravels, so does the movie, though the story maintains a certain baseline of interest just by virtue of being sordid.