From IMDB: “A collection of twentysomethings try to cope with relationships, loneliness, desire and their individual neuroses.”
A ponderous picture about one New Year’s Eve in the early 1980s and the intersection of a bunch of New Yorkers in the city on that night. They chatter and say cute things and go on and on about the meaningless of it all. They also over-emote and incessantly navel-gaze.
They started making these ensemble/group hug/chit chat/why are we here? movies after the insidious The Big Chill which spawned the terrible Reality Bites.
Nothing is funny – save one Janeane Garafolo line (“These matches are disappointing me”) and one Ben Affleck attempt at a pick up line (“How do you like your eggs in the morning? Scrambled or fertilized?”). Other than that, the film is awful. Everyone is bad, but special merit for over-the-top histrionics goes to Christina Ricci, Martha Plimpton, and Paul Rudd.
The director, Risa Ramoan Garcia, wasn’t given another film to helm for 11 years. He has, however, paid the bills as a casting director for CSI.
The writer, Shana Larsen, never wrote another movie.