Dangerous Parking
Cert 18, 108 mins
**

Peter Howitt’s directing debut, Sliding Doors, put him on the map. This vanity project could — and should — shove him back into obscurity.

Based on Stuart Browne’s acclaimed, posthumously published novel, the film follows the many chemical highs and lows of druggie Noah Arkwright, a cult film director whose self-destructive tendencies arouse the interest of police, doctors, AA group leaders and several angelic women.

These good people want to save Noah. The irony that is supposed to hit you as tragic is that when Noah finally stops trying to kill himself, testicular cancer steps in to finish the job.

Howitt adapted the script himself. Much of the self-pitying vitriol lacks novelty. And the female characters are staggeringly unbelievable.

But hey, that's nothing new. It’s the fact that onetime actor Howitt chooses to cast himself in the lead, as well as direct, that makes your jaw drop.

As Noah, Howitt is devoid of charisma. More crucially, (since the film is full of one-liners) he is unfunny. A comedian like Simon Pegg might have made the self-conscious self-loathing work. With Howitt omnipresent (Noah provides a voice-over throughout) panic sets in. There’s no escape.

Howitt’s direction is as flat as his delivery. Noah’s switches between past and present should shake us up like a rollercoaster. But, thanks to Howitt’s dead hand, each whimsical digression seems to last an eternity.

Safron Burrows is actively bad as Noah’s cellist wife, all fluttery hands and vacant eyes.

Rachel Stirling has nothing to do as the ex-alcoholic determined to sober him up. Tom Conti — as a foxhunting doctor — is delightful.

Delusions of edginess haunt Dangerous Parking. Alas, all it represents is an opportunity, criminally wasted.