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Although there's enough emotional manipulation here to fill a river with tears, it's hard not to be swept up...

Maybe it's all true. But one is always a little discomfited when life, or a movie, imitates weary melodramatic patterns this slavishly.

Broadly conceived and schematically directed (or is it non-directed?), this is a shallow satire, basically a short extended into feature length movie, about a rehabilitation camp for gays and lesbians that wastes the talent of Natasha Lyons.

Dumb, heavy-handed satire.

Actually I quite enjoyed the movie--but how do I get rid of this awful discharge?

The leads and their accomplices look dead glam, but it's never clear whether their vacuity is a deliberate strategy. Certainly Avary's style seems all for instant gratification.

Although she comes across as bordering on insufferable, we are expected to understand that Sandy is the touchstone of honesty in the film because, like other American films of the Sundance variety, eccentricity signifies emotional authenticity.

Weaver pretty much keeps Imaginary Heroes aloft.

An imperfect movie with so many moments of truth that you forgive its stumbles.

It isn't bad enough to be good.

Undiscovered feels more like a pilot for a glossy nighttime soap on Fox -- probably one that would be canceled midseason -- than a feature film with even a modicum of discernible originality or depth.