People say that suicide is selfish, not necessarily because that statement is true in every single regard, but rather because that notion undisputedly ranks higher than the alternative. To want to die is the worst feeling in the world, the kind of pervasive outcome that can sometimes feel like one’s only rational recourse. Miriam Toews’ novel All My Puny Sorrows did a beautiful job capturing all the pain that suicide brings, finding humor in unthinkable tragedy.

Unfortunately, somewhere along the way that sense of open generosity vanished from the film adaptation of Towes’ work. Fans of the bestselling Canadian book can see the outline that director Michael McGowan attempted to follow. The voice so abounding in humanity just isn’t there.

The film follows Yoli (Alison Pill), a struggling novelist in the midst of a messy divorce. A parent at 18, Yoli finds seemingly no joy in raising her daughter, Nora (Amybeth McNulty), herself quite aware of her mother’s general aura of apathy. Yoli perpetually lives in the shadow of her sister Elf (Sarah Gadon), a successful concert pianist who inherited her suicidal tendencies from their father (Donal Logue), who committed suicide years before the events of the narrative.

Film Yoli is pretty unpleasant to watch. Extremely selfish and a crippling narcissist, listening to her talk about her shell of a career is like a best-of compilation of the cringiest overheard conversations on college campus coffee shops. As the title suggests, this sense of blatant privilege isn’t really lost on anyone, though neither McGowan nor Pill seem to know how to craft Yoli into something resembling a palatable protagonist.

Lacking its source material’s abundant wit, All My Puny Sorrows is a self-indulgent slog seemingly hellbent on guilting its audience into liking it. It feels bad to hate Yoli, a woman dealing with tragic family circumstances. Trouble is, she doesn’t elicit anything other than obligatory pity, making you feel nothing but regret for having made the mistake of listening to her story for too long to back out unnoticed.

The narrative plays fast a loose with mental health. Elf, top of her field, is regarded by Yoli as privileged for having reached a career peak high enough that if she did quit piano, she could coast later on in life as a genius recluse. Knowing the depths of depression’s effects, a simpler reality is that those with fortune rarely consider that at all when consumed with nothing but darkness. The 103-minute runtime feels suffocatingly long, solid acting unable to compensate for an atrocious script.

Annoying people who suffer from mental illness deserve sympathy, a reality that compassionate people can understand even if it doesn’t necessarily feel good to offer any. All My Puny Sorrows is the kind of film that makes you grateful that it is a work of fiction, because it’s okay to dislike its loathsome protagonist. McGowan’s work feels cheap and exploitative, a disappointing adaptation of source material that certainly deserved better.