Adam Shankman's film adaptation of the Broadway musical of the same name is an awkward melodrama wretched with ridiculous cliches that potentially steals away the entire vibe of "tribute-to-rock" , - something the film desperately aspires to be. So when you aren't keenly trying to analyse or rather ridicule, the contrived love story between an up-and-coming rock musician and a waitress at The Bourbon joint, the one thing to keep you sufficiently engaged is Mr. Tom Cruise. It may not be entirely the story of Stacey Jaxx, who he essays, but for the screen-time which has been (rather haphazardly) devoted to him - he is pure fun of the slapdash-doped-out-rockstar variety with shades of Slash. Since it is a Hollywood musical, when you expect the characters to deal with the conflict in a rational manner, they break into an abrupt song, which is hilarious at times, suitable only occasionally while never really fitting in plausibly. While Stacey Jaxx' sly manager Paul Gimamati shrewdly gets him to perform at the flagging Borbon Room run by a haggard Alec Baldwin, a number of complications and misconceptions arise which involve a Rolling Stones' reporter fling with a depressed Stacey Jaxx, the upcoming musician breaks-up with his girl for he suspects she slept with Stacey Jaxx, which in turn forces her to abandon her own dreams and become a stripper! There's also a parallel gay-affair (between Russel Brand and Baldwin) which is used as an inadequate sub-plot. The story then further tries to explore themes of loneliness and tough-life through a string of distantly related characters while lines like, "Swallow your Tears" and "Harden your Heart" punctuate the fading dramatic power. Scenes featuring Cruise and the Rolling Stones' reporter are the funniest as well as the most poignant of the lot, while others are overtly superficial and simplistic at times. There are occasional humorous situations but they mainly involve the entire stereotypical rock attitude in situations or Catherine Zeta Jones'Patricia character who is a closet junkie of rock but is trying hard to get the "filth" out of town as her pseudo-modernistic mentality dictates. Adam Shankman could have made the film a lot more watchable had he not cluttered it with laughable melodrama and had dedicated some thought to the films' structure. At one point, we don't even realize where the film is headed as the principal story breaks open and parts of it become independent of it; untidily coming together in the sanguine climactic performance. This is Rock of Yawn.