There are a few things that you realize within the first couple of minutes of the film. One is that the writing relies a little too heavily on the voiceover approach, which it continues to lean on throughout the course of the film (in sometimes effective, but mostly ineffective ways). Another is that it's going to be filled with a lot of moan-and-groan, white-male-privilege, 1st-world problems. The other is that the conclusion is obvious and dangling in plain sight.

The voiceover approach is the lesser of the evils, and it helps to carry the story (as VO tends to do), but also succeeds in placing us squarely into the head of our protagonist (think Taxi Driver, but not as good, groundbreaking or edgy), plunging us into Brad's foolish inner monologue, filled with his worry and strife, no matter how vapid and trite they may be, which are disproportionately counterbalanced by his vague, semi-poetic musings. The voiceover often leads to some of the more notable comedic moments -- the best of which features a child snorting cocaine on a private jet. The narration and accompanying visuals portray the delusional reality that Brad believes is the earnest truth. The narration ends up being one of the weaker story elements, but adds a layer of reliability to Brad's character, as nearly all of us live in the made up confines of our own distorted thinking. Although, the white male jejune cognition will likely turn off some viewers.