As a man, I acknowledge I am automatically at a disadvantage when it comes to judging a film, like Little Black Book, that is so blatantly marketed and conceived for women. But Book is guaranteed to confound and disappoint even hardcore devotees of chick flicks. It is a romantic comedy that is neither romantic nor comedic.

Though the title refers to a book full of women’s numbers - the kind 99% of men haven’t used in decades - the object of the characters’ focus is a PDA which is, strangely enough, blue and steel gray, not black. It belongs to Derek (Office Space’s Ron Livingston), a hockey team talent scout who is dating Stacy (Brittany Murphy), a producer on a Jerry Springer-esque talk show named “Kippie Kann Do!” All the door handles in the Kippie office are shaped like K’s, far more clever (or “klever”) than any of the actual jokes in the script. Since it’s Derek’s PDA, it would make sense to focus at least a subplot on him; to hear his side of the story, to learn how he feels about what is happening. Naturally, he is shunted off-screen for all but the first and last quarter hour.

While Derek goes out-of-town on a movie-long business trip, Stacy, largely unprovoked, wades into his little black book (which, mind you, is neither black nor a book) and finds out about his previous girlfriends. They include a supermodel, a sex therapist, and a cook named Joyce (played by cast standout Julianne Nicholson). All of them tell Stacy what a wonderful boyfriend Derek was, and how badly they miss him. Instead of feeling lucky over her relationship to a rare catch, she continues to muddle with his past, lying about her identity and poking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Stacy and Little Black Book believe that men are obligated to tell women every single intimate detail of their previous relationships. How this is supposed to create a better relationship is unclear. Still, Stacy’s borderline psychotic obsession is more appropriate for a Single White Female style stalker thriller than an alleged romantic comedy. It quickly becomes clear to all of us in the audience that Stacy doesn’t deserve Derek (she deserves a straightjacket, frankly). He clearly belongs with Joyce the cook because she’s, y’know, not bat-crap insane.

Whatever the intent of Little Black Book, it is an outright failure. I’ve discussed the inherent flaws in the story, but I haven’t even gone into the terrible dog flatulence humor (and there’s an incredible amount of it) or the character Barb (Holly Hunter) whose is supposed to be the advice-giving sidekick, but, perhaps out of jealously of Stacy after she’s lost her own boyfriend, she only seems intent on providing advice that will result in trouble and broken relationships. There's plenty more where this came from, but why beat a dead little black dog?

Anyone (like me) who enjoys Ron Livingston and goes into Little Black Book expecting to see a lot of him will be shocked to find he barely plays a role in the plot his character initiates. The film’s opinion of him, and of men in general, is so low that it doesn’t even offer Derek a resolution after the what-the-hell-were-they-thinking emotional climax.