There's many a film when you surreptitiously glance at your watch only for your heart to sink at the minute hand grinding slowly round.

The most notable thing about this indulgent mess is to actually achieve the optical illusion that your timepiece is going backwards.

In the broad church that is the theatre, what we get is up there with the sort of rubbish put on by spotty medics in some obscure corner of the Edinburgh Festival.

If it's not an edifying experience in the first place then it's hardly going to make for a rewarding cinematic offering - unless there's a sharp script, well-judged performances and, well, a few decent gags. Unfortunately, none of the above make it onto the screen. What we do get is a shabbily amateurish movie about a shabbily amateurish theatre group.

Quite how Julie Delpy (E.R., Killing Zoe) got involved is anybody's guess but at least Steven Berkoff gets the chance to ham it up more than a premier butcher as a Cockernee sex club owner.

We follow the (mis)fortunes of the Vagabond Theatre Company as they tout their avant-garde interpretation of the Tempest around London, Edinburgh and Paris. The main thing lacking apart from wit, humour and characterisation are the audiences - and it's no real surprise why.

There is a spankingly good film to be made about the lives and times of a fringe theatre group. This isn't it.

Tim Evans