"I Melt With You." Only If I Can Put My Head in a 500-Degree Oven First

Flipping through the cable On-Demand menu the other night, I came across a movie. "I Melt With You," that got some buzz earlier this year at the Sundance Festival.

The basic synopsis of the indie film, On Demand now but opening in theaters in a few weeks, was four college friends, now in their mid-40s, get together for their annual boys-only retreat and reflect on various parts of their midlife crises.

Hey, I'm in my mid-40s. OK, go on. It stars Rob Lowe (Squee! So it must be like "About Last Night," but 25 years later, right?), Thomas Jane (playing a complicated teacher, much like his role as complicated teacher Ray Drecker on "Hung," right?), and Jeremy Piven (playing a twitchy, big money bigshot with a long-suffering wife, like his Ari Gold on "Entourage," right?).

OK, I'm in. Plus, based on the title, like the Modern English song, so there will be lots of 1980s music, right?

Not exactly (though Piven is completely Ari Gold in this flick). Plus, "Entourage" regulars Carla Gaugino and Sasha Gray show up later. Stay with me.

Here's the plot of the movie: They meet up at some big mack daddy beach house in Monterey with enough drugs to kill Jimi Hendrix 10 times over. In fact, the entire first 30 minutes of this movie is the boys partying down (how did they get all that stuff on a plane, anyway? Just one of many WTFs). At first I said, "Hey, I was at that party in 1984!"

But then it just kept going. More drugs. And more. Did I mention that Rob Lowe plays some kind of Dr. Feelgood who arrives with a giant doctor's satchel of Oxycontin and syringes and the like? At one point, he snarfs a handful of pills like Cookie Monster at a rave. Morphine, nom, nom, nom.

Then the movie (without giving too much away) moves into threesomes, flashbacks of the Challenger disaster, some convoluted pact made 25 years ago that makes no sense, some barf, fishing, death, more drugs, death, a joyride, syringes, more barf, a couple of nervous breakdowns (I felt close to my own, OMG), cigar smoking and crying. Plus, the Dead Kennedys are playing!

The plotless plot, which makes no sense for 118 of the 12o minutes, sort of comes together in at the very end, at which point I said "Seriously?"

In the climactic scene, Carla Gaugino, in the silliest casting ever as a nosy cop with two much time on her hands, chases Thomas Jane on a cliff in a Hitchcock-style pursuit, but with a jerky camera and screechy "Psycho" music.

In fact, most of the movie has screechy music, camera cutaways and extreme closeups stolen from "The Shining" and "Eyes Wide Shut." I kept waiting for it all to add up to some bigger meaning. Alas, it just led to more vodka and secrets.

So to repeat, this is not "The Big Chill." How I wish it were "St. Elmo's Fire." It could have turned into "Weekend at Bernie's" which actually would have made it more entertaining.

Want 80s nostalgia? Go see "The Muppet Movie." Want to reflect on that life didn't turn out exactly the way you planned back when you were an idealistic college student? Reconnect with your fraternity brothers safely on Facebook.

And if Thomas Jane is invited to your weekend getaway, decline and stay put in your split level of disappointment and bills. Don't say I didn't warn you.