Plot: The titular author struggles with his second novel and his relationship, probably because he isn't really a very good writer and can't stop sleeping with ever other woman he happens to sniff.
With a vanilla jazz score; a cast of television C-listers (a guy from Becker, a guy from Ed); a lead played pretentiously by Fisher Stevens, a poor man's Adrian Brody; and an alarming lack of depth for a character study like this, this movie is just generic and sucky. I couldn't stand Sam, and I got frustrated waiting for some kind of character transformation that I wasn't going to buy anyway. At one point, he describes his writing as not being a story but "a moment" and how he's focusing on what is "important" or "meaningful." Unfortunately for anybody trudging through Sam the Man, there's nothing important or meaningful here. The interactions between unlikable characters range from awkward to irritating. I'm not completely sure what director Gary Winick or anybody else involved with this project were going for, but they apparently didn't get there.