There's nothing worse than slitting your wrists, falling to the ground to drift off in a pool of your own blood in an apartment you've just cleaned for the occasion ... only to discover, right before the life drains out completely, that you've missed a giant dust bunny. This is your last glimpse of life on earth: an accumulated ball of dirt, wrecking, and mocking, your plan for flawless self-termination. Could hell be any worse?

Yes and no. Wristcutters: A Love Story, is the directorial debut of Goran Dukic, who developed the script at the Sundance Screenwriters lab in 2004, based on a short story by Israeli writer/actor Etgar Keret. The film tracks Zia (Patrick Fugit), a young guy so wrecked by a break up that the only solution is to clean his house and slit his wrists. After dying, Zia finds himself in a special afterlife reserved for suicide victims. It's not quite hell, exactly – unless your version of hell looks an awful lot like industrial Los Angeles – but it's certainly not heaven, and though Zia is resigned to his lot, he can't stop thinking about Desiree (Leslie Bibb of Popular fame), the gal he offed himself in the name of. Zia wastes away most of his hours either working for minimum wage, or drinking with Eugene, a mutton-chopped Russian who got his ticket to the afterlife by electrocuting himself whilst onstage fronting what appears to have been an Gogol Bordello ripoff band (speaking of Gogol Bordello, Wristcutters has a feel similar to Liev Schreiber's Everything is Illuminated, except far less self-important and pretentious).