Boy meets girl. Girl invites boy into flat. Boy watches porn. Boy passes out. Boy wakes up strapped to a chair. Girl gets medieval on boy's ass.
There is nothing wrong with a film that poses more questions than it intends to answer. However, when the questions are as nebulous as those being offered here, there is nothing left to admire.
The anorexic plot follows a man who picks up a woman in a bar, returns to her flat expecting to get laid, but instead is tortured to death. The story presents an interesting parallel to the audience's own experience: build up of expectations - perhaps even a little titillation - only to endure 90 minutes of excruciating agony.
It isn't just that the film is atrociously acted, appallingly scripted and shot in a manner that to call amateurish would be discourteous to amateurs the world over. The problem is that it tries so hard to be something deeper, by questioning issues of screen violence, censorship and the voyeuristic nature of cinema.
Denied a video certificate for seven years, Boy Meets Girl stirred some interest early on at international film festivals. But now it just seems odious on every level.