While Fading Gigolo has potential, the delivery makes it a wholly frustrating watch.

If you can get beyond the implausibility of Sharon Stone paying John Turturro to join her in a mnage trois - and, frankly, I couldn't - then there are lightweight pleasures to be had amid the wry, angsty middle-aged male fantasy.

It would be misleading to suggest that the film falls into the so-bad-it's-good category. But a degree of obscure pleasure can be derived from the wrong-headedness of everything about it.

With his fifth directorial effort, John Turturro offers a thoughtful Woody Allen-esque meditation on the lengths to which lonely people go to fill the emotional holes in their lives.