'Three Day Weekend' really takes the biscuit. It's like a bad reality-tv show. Nine, not too bright superstuds in a remote mansion spend a weekend mesmerising about relationships, love and sex. The group certainly put their money where their mouths are, where the latter is concerned. They swopped partners like they were playing pass the parcel. Nothing wrong with that, had the acting not been stodgy and rigid, and the characters not been potrayed as wooden dummies. The only bloke standing out was the one teaming up with the yoga-freak. I don't recall his name. I don't recall any name, for that matter. I still don't know who's who, due to badly connected storylines. TDW's plots meandered through a muddy field of anxiety, (false) hopes and sexual (un)fulfillment. The concept of delectible geezers, shacked up together in the middle of nowhere, had been worked out much more absorbing in 'Boyfriends', its British counterpart. Watching TDW, one has to make do with some assorted masculine acting wimps, pretending to be genuine and profound, while in fact they're superficial and hackneyed. The computer generated score did nothing to eleviate matters. It made it hit rock bottom!