Drama done poorly can elicit boredom and disdain, but there’s a special type of aghast irritation that terrible cinematic comedy stimulates. While humor is unarguably more subjective, and wacky situations and jokes themselves can therefore connect or not depending on the viewer, when a comedic film with naturalistic roots fails to establish a single realistic character whatsoever, it can make one want to toss eggs at its makers. And that, in a nutshell, describes Expecting, the strained, tone-deaf and almost offensively slapdash feature film debut of writer-director Jessie McCormack, which careens haplessly from one artificial set-up to the next in telling the story of a surrogate pregnancy involving female friends.

On a certain anthropological level, this film is a fascinating misfire. If its royally inept screenplay is the tool by which it most readily delivers exasperation and annoyance, McCormack’s aimless direction also brings out the worst instincts in her actors, who give performances that exhibit no fixed, innate character traits. But make no mistake — Expecting is not even “so bad it’s good.” It’s simply bad. By all means, though, if fans of Michelle Monaghan or Radha Mitchell feel compelled to hear them rhapsodize about “gargling balls,” this dreadful train wreck may be their only chance. For the full, original review, from Paste, click here. (Tribeca Film, R, 87 minutes)