After offing himself, Zia (Patrick Fugit) turns up in an afterworld for suiciders, a bizarro duplicate of dusty Southern California, where everybody's gloomy and nothing works quite right. But Zia still has a tiny spark of life, and he teams up with two other relatively lively denizens -- an irascible Russian (Shea Whigham) and the no-bullshit Mikal (Shannyn Sossamon) -- for a road trip to nowhere. This is definitely a journey for those who don't require ha-ha comedy; there's nods to Stranger Than Paradise, Repo Man and even Gogol Bordello frontman Eugene Hutz. The film is intentionally washed-out, and no character laughs or smiles, but amid the pervasive gloom and the recurring mysteries (there's a black hole in the car), Wristcutters grows increasingly life-affirming. Of his miserable afterlife, sighs Zia with newfound realization: "What can I do about it now, kill myself again?"