Starting like Girls Gone Wild and finishing more like Jay McInerney, this indie tale of a rake’s progress is considerably sweeter than the marketing and early scenes would indicate. (Socialite/model Lydia Hearst and various catwalkers appear in various states of undress.) Jason Behr (from TV’s Roswell) plays a rich, idle, one-shot novelist who cavorts with supermodels while pining for his editor/childhood sweetheart (Monet Mazur). Despite the film’s title, he’s not much of a cad—more like a man-boy living in a spell. Why he’s named Jack Frost, with nary a snowflake in sight, is vaguely explained in a children’s storybook. Calling him Peter Pan, as one character actually does, is more apt for his enchanted Neverland of fabulous apartments, elegant offices, and trendy bars (all shot like a very expensive beer commercial). Sex mainly remains an unrealized threat as Jack and his cohort talk about love. A cute British journalist (recent suicide Lucy Gordon) even interviews him on the subject. An adorable, wise 11-year-old girl in Jack’s building essentially tutors him on the subject. And yes, Jack has a Family Tragedy in his past that must be addressed—it’s that kind of movie. There’s a strong element of male fantasy in Steve Clark’s debut feature, but despite all the models in lingerie, no trace of misogyny. In this fable of a shallow city prince, the damsels come across better, and he’s the one in need of rescuing.