Is the stress of ludicrously manipulative films getting on your nerves? Had it up to here with the canned, filtered and processed holiday dreck that is a Garry Marshall movie? By all means stay away from his latest, New Year’s Eve, unless you’re able to make a deal with the movie theater and allow them to let you in just for the outtakes during the closing credits. You can sneak them in on your way to one of the many bonafide quality end-of-year films that are out there plentifully. And, mercifully, you will have seen the only good parts of New Year’s Eve, which if it isn’t the year’s worst film, is certainly the most offensive to any sensibility higher than that of, say, the average lemur.
Small-minded sure comes to mind in searching for a description of this cinematic tour bus of copious Hollywood stars all in search of a shred of plot, character, one iota of depth, anything. Robert DeNiro isn’t the only big name who’s fallen so low here he may never get up. There’s Sarah Jessica Parker, Halle Berry, Hilary Swank, Seth Myers, Jessica Biel, Zac Ephron, Katherine Heigl, and, creepers, Jon Bon Jovi (rest assured your sister is a better actor than him). And while I don’t want to spoil it, there’s a mysterious character named Ingrid who you may not be able to identify until the closing credits. She’s a former A-list actress who gives a genuinely formidable performance in the face of the overwhelming odds here. Her surprise kiss from the much younger Ephron at the stroke of midnight is diffused by Ephron subsequently announcing it as no more than a checked-off New Year’s Eve resolution. Prone to play it safe above all, and pander to the most potentially “tasteful” outcomes of a scene, Marshall insults our intelligence by teasing with provocation and a hint of realism, only to descend into mind-numbing dumbness is very short order. Parker’s daughter (Abigail Breslin) finally negotiates going out unchaperoned, yet, as a Marshall safety valve, the mom of a girlfriend is not so subtly spying on her in every nook and cranny. Myers and a pregnant Biel compete to win money by giving birth to the earliest baby delivered after midnight, then their fierce bickering with the other father (Til Schweiger) inexplicably fizzles when it’s revealed he has two other kids. Myers, without any scene provided to explain his sudden empathy other than shots of Schweiger’s kids, recapitulates and lies about his wife’s delivery time so Schweiger can have the prize. Come to think of it, there couldn’t have been an extra authenticating scene inserted there. This film has so many alternate stories Marshall and “screenwriter” Katherine Fugate, barely have time for much besides switching back and forth. See, if you can switch to the next story, then the next, you can avoid having to come to that crux when something resembling a slither of depth is required.
So check out this wussed out, flabby, and pretentious excuse for a feel-good holiday movie only if continuous cringing, rolling your eyes, and shaking your head is your idea of a good time. Myself, I wanted to throw a bowl of yogurt at the screen.
2 Eye Rolls (Out of 10)…Woulda been a “1” if not for the mystery actress.