Sorry, Haters is an unusually ambitious attempt to grapple with the jumbled emotions of post-9/11 New York, taking some pretty big risks in its presentation -- as well as liberties with its logic. It's this last part that's fatally problematic. Any applause for writer-director Jeff Stanzler's intentions will dissipate once a viewer reaches the other end of the running time. Sorry, Haters goes from intriguingly unbalanced to downright unbelievable in what Stanzler chooses to do with Robin Wright Penn's character. Penn deserves kudos for her usual willingness to play someone unsafe, or in this case, utterly unlikable. However, there's a difference between a character whose motivations are sinister, but at least based in a psychological reality, and a character who makes havoc simply for the sake of making it, which is one way to describe Penn's Phoebe. Without giving away any details -- though Sorry, Haters doesn't deserve such a gag order based on its merits -- suffice it to say there's ample evidence that Phoebe is, plain and simple, a sociopath. Trying to explain her actions, or fit them into any kind of intelligible theme, is almost impossible, and that robs the film of most of its meaning. Abdel Kechiche submits a good performance to match Penn, but his effectiveness is also diminished by the unlikely evolution the script forces on his character. Out of this mess, Stanzler emerges as no better than a deluded provocateur, not the brave pusher of hot buttons he wanted to be. It's a shame, because a creepy first half sets an excellent tone, asking questions that seem like they'll have discomfiting answers. But as it spirals off into ridiculousness, the film doesn't merely owe its audience those answers -- Sorry, Haters owes them an apology, indeed.