That convention-flouting title misleads: this winsome affair lags lamentably close to the modern romcom average. The Glaswegian backdrop projects more dignity than the actors blundering around before it: Karen Gillan's klutzy author is conceived as Bridget Jones in Annie Hall clothing, at least until the sub-Austin Powers scene that deploys a perky pair of meringues to obscure her nudity from her hunky publisher (Stanley Weber). You could dismiss it as another film made by men who've never encountered a flesh-and-blood woman, were it not that the male characters are equally alien, half-heartedly beamed in from Planet Romcomnia.