Andrew (Robert Dayton) is trying to convince himself that he is a god who creates his own reality. What he really is, is a pathetic little whiner; a diminutive divorce` who desperately hangs out on street corners trying to meet women as they pass by. Such is his dating strategy, until he has a conversation with Jay (Shane Nelken), a musician in Andrew’s ex-wife Sally’s (Cindy Wolfe) band and part-time amateur porn producer. Jay advises Andrew to set his sights on someone even more desperate than him. It’s a strategy that pays off when Andrew seduces a pleasant lonely heart named Lucy (Kim Cote), and he thinks he’s hit his stride. Instead, however, he turns into a sniveling, manipulative jerk who leaves a trail of ticked off friends, would-be lovers, and strangers in his egomaniacal wake…and a pile of viewers who could probably care less.
It’s simply beyond me why anyone would want to make a movie in which there’s not a single sympathetic character in sight. Instead, director Blaine Thurier tries to tell his pointless, goes nowhere fast tale using five — counting Andrew’s best friend Ian (Steve Wood) — of the most despicable, desperate and disgusting characters to soil the screen. Not even the two topless attractive lesbians making out at around the seventy-minute mark of this was-it-really-only-78-minutes-long stinker managed to stir me out of my stupor.
“Male Fantasy” is one long, tedious, droning bore with the stench of community theater improv performances all over it. Meant, one would assume, to be a black comedy, it is instead a joyless dispiriting dullard of a film. The only fantasy this particular male had while “Male Fantasy” was painfully unspooling before my eyes, was seeing the words, “THE END” pop-up on screen.