Too old, too ugly, too stupid, too fat — 34-year-old single gal Audrey (Sybil Darrow) is none of these, not that you'd be able to convince her otherwise. Neurotically insecure enough to make Bridget Jones look like Margaret Thatcher, the head-turning architect spends the hour she waits for her date to show up, at a snooty bistro, cataloguing everything she should change about herself. Billed as a comedy but nothing more than a shallow and exasperating portrait of female self-loathing, Dean Pollack's Audrey puts its protagonist through hell — and its audience along with her. Like a drawing in a coloring book, the protagonist's blankness invites us to imbue her with the shading and hues that make sense to us. But the drawing of Audrey might as well be of her being caught on the toilet; her wretchedness is so extreme it's not identifiable — it's off-puttingly pathetic. Too worried about her figure to order any food and too frightened to call or text no-show Gene (Jonathan Chase) — not with her real number, anyway — she's simply eaten away from the inside, and Darrow isn't compelling or complex enough a presence to make up for the underwritten script. After numerous flashbacks to her failed relationships and her two banally pleasant dates with Gene, Audrey finally embarks on a pat "fixing-everything-that's-wrong-with-her-life" third act that's no less grueling in its rigid, predictable rhythms. Audrey is an unconvincing girl-power anthem that begins with a barely audible whisper and ends faker than Katy Perry.