Like most of you, the film A Single Man passed me by on its initial release and only crept onto my radar due to Colin Firth’s Oscar-nominated performance. I should have stuck with my gut.

A Single Man is helmed by first-time director (and big-time fashion honcho) Tom Ford. Apparently Ford’s definition of directing begins and ends with slow-motion shots. Even the movie’s title sequence couldn’t escape the hack device as a man roils underwater, grappling against an invisible force. This crutch is used several times throughout the rest of the film, never really highlighting a specific scene or moment, but used like an amateur imitating his hero. Slow-motion should be used sparingly to accentuate important movements or dramatic points, the equivalent of writing with exclamation points! Use anything too much and it loses its power.

Owing to his fashion background, Ford was meticulous with the clothing and set design, even going so far as to create a story behind Firth’s black suit and its origin. A young man’s angora sweater emits an aura of innocence and Julianne Moore’s pink-bodied cigarettes exude femininity. Vintage soda and candy dispensing machines are immaculate, harboring as much chrome and classic lines as luxury cars (which are also in abundance).

For as much as Ford and company scrutinized the look and feel of A Single Man, it seems no one thought to measure the completeness of the story. The plot is threadbare at best, following a day in the life of a man (Firth) who has lost his partner in an automobile accident. This tragedy happened months ago, but Firth’s feelings of loss still corrupt his dreams and make life unbearable. So unbearable that he decides the only way to end the pain is to kill himself. He buys bullets, empties his bank box, and obsessively lays out his artifacts in preparation for his funeral. However, a final trip to his favorite bar – and a chance encounter - may change everything.

If you read that last paragraph, you don’t need to see the film. Nothing else happens. There are no dramatic turns or a climax; there is boredom and cliché and flashbacks; disorienting flashbacks which don’t necessarily ground the viewer in the past or present until the scene is nearly over. From the moment a naïve college student enters the frame, one knows exactly how the movie will end, and the trip there is a line flatter and straighter than a road trip through Kansas.

As for the Oscar nomination, it’s debatable. Firth plays the same dignified and dashing Brit role we’ve seen him in before, but with a heart full of grief. Think Pride and Prejudice mixed with Brokeback Mountain; if you didn’t know yet, Firth’s character is gay. Which leads me to this question: If this movie had been about a heterosexual single man – or woman – in the same situation, would it have even been made let alone looked at for awards?