Here's what you need to know about this film: Lizzy Olsen starts out with several varieties of shirts on, but loses most of them in favor of a near see though tank top. It's a literal and metaphorical metamorphosis of mammary viewage.
Less important stuff to know: It's told in real-time with each take averaging around 12-13 minutes. It's particularly tense (think The Strangers) early when the audience is still in the dark, then settles into mediocrity once the plot is revealed.
An exploitative documentary about the banal arguments of two drunks in late '80s Frisco which were recorded by two guys who are still living in the past.
The only emotion I felt was dislike for the douchers who made the recordings and all the bottom feeders who followed and tried to get rich off of the audio.
A one trick pony that outlasts its welcome.