The fact that Saul Rubinek's directorial debut – Jerry and Tom – wasn't seen by more people is one of the greatest travesties of the '90s, right after the break-up of The Ramones and the cancellation of My So Called Life.  The hitman dramedy, adapted by Rick Cleveland (an occasional writer and producer on The West Wing) and based on his three-man play, was a competitor at the 1998 Sundance Festival, and then later that fall at Montreal and Toronto, where it played to strong reviews.  Then it collected dust on a shelf at Miramax until its August 2000 video release.  That's right – Jerry went straight to video.

Rubinek, an actor last seen on the screen as Nic Cage's boss in Family Man, packs his second effort – Club Land – with more of the same long, unedited shots and stunning jumps from scene to scene that made Jerry so enjoyable. Unfortunately, it's all for naught.  Cleveland's intelligently written script is followed up with one penned by Steven Weber.  Yes, that Steven Weber – the same vanilla no-talent who had the name of his television show changed from Cursed to The Weber Show because nobody knew he was on it.

Weber writes about as well as he acts, which dooms Club Land from the get-go.  He also stars in the film, playing Stuey Walters, a Korean War vet who is forced to go into the family business - talent management.  Stuey's father, Willie (Alan Alda, What Women Want), is an old-school hard-ass who constantly breaks his son's balls for not being into the management game. "You look like you fell out of a bum's ass," he yells at Stuey, who seems more content scouting skirts than talent.

When Willie's one decent money-making act quits, the Walters boys become even more outwardly hostile toward each other, while simultaneously growing closer on the inside.  It's a story that should be taken out back and shot. Club Land is Broadway Danny Rose without the humor, or the heart.  It wastes the talent of Alda (who looks like he's having fun, for some reason) and Happiness' Louise Lasser, while accentuating Weber's complete lack of aptitude.

The only thing remotely interesting here is going on behind the camera. Rubinek's direction and Sloane Klevin's editing (he also worked on Jerry) are the lone standouts, creating odd scene transitions using clever camera angles and mirrors.  But it's still not enough to make Club Land worth watching.