A compelling exercise in humiliation-comedy. By CALEB STARRENBURG.

WHEN OUT OF WORK independent filmmaker Chris Waitt is dumped with no explanation, he decides to track down and interview his cavalcade of former girlfriends to learn why his romantic-life is so spectacularly unsuccessful. More importantly, he’d like to discover why it’s been several years since his last erection. This supposed documentary is too staged to ring entirely true; yet Waitt is such an endearingly self-effacing character it ultimately doesn't matter.

At the outset of A Complete History of My Sexual Failures we learn Waitt – a derelict Kurt Cobain-esque 30-something Londoner – has been left by all 20 of his former girlfriends. Their methods have included phone, email and text. One even wrote a novel in which she alluded to the brutal murder of her hapless boyfriend. The filmmaker’s initial attempts at contacting these women are gloriously unsuccessful. Waitt is met with a torrent of denials and even protection orders. Fortunately, the director’s long-suffering mother is able to convince his high school sweetheart to meet with him. She’s now married with a child and not entirely pleased to be on camera. This awkward first interview sets the ball rolling and establishes the tone for the rest of the film.

What follows is a progression of increasingly humiliating, and often hilariously funny encounters. Waitt’s laconic and deadpan delivery might occasionally feel forced, but is played off well against the reactions of his former girlfriend, whose responses range from bemused to antagonistic. He is described as lazy, immature, non-committal and a self-absorbed bastard, but despite this continues to proposition his former lovers. When they reject his advances, Waitt naturally decides his ex girlfriends must be crazy.

The film really picks up pace when Waitt’s producer suggests he search for a new girlfriend. An advertisement on MySpace inexplicably leads to Sexual Failure’s most unforgettable scene: chained in an urban dungeon, Waitt’s unpixilated genitals are lashed by a dominatrix. The filmmaker’s reaction would suggest he’s not faking this one.

Sexual Failure’s overly-scripted and convenient conclusion jars. However, it is a necessary means to imbue Waitt with a glimmer of redemptive optimism. Parallels can be drawn between Waitt’s film and the pseudo-documentary work of Sacha Baron Cohen. Both directors distort reality to create uncomfortably entertaining situations. However, while the latter filmmaker seeks to ridicule his interview subjects, Waitt’s intention is to deride himself. And this is the film’s appeal – a clever and compelling exercise in humiliation-comedy.