Don’t expect to see Sex and the City 3 anytime soon.
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James White is in trouble. His father has just died, and he’s reeling outward in a spiral of alcohol-fuelled despair; he finds it difficult to think about others; his own selfishness keeps dragging him down despite his better intentions. But unfortunately, his horridness bleeds into the movie itself, making James White – yes, he’s so obsessed with himself that he named the movie after himself – something close to bruising psychological torment. And not the kind you enjoy, either.

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Richard Loncraine’s understated drama thrives in its simplistic narrative.
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