I’m going to have to buck the trend on this one and say it’s really not much of a movie. For some reason the critics are lavishing praise on this little relationship ad-lib, but it’s very light on the movie moments.
The film is notable for its complete lack of a script, throwing the actors in front of the camera without a guide and letting things unfold in real time. This technique is bold and different and ultimately doomed to fail. Actors fumbling around to develop a scene isn’t all that compelling to me. Perhaps if the stakes were higher, the situations more dire, real threats, grit, it might have had potential. As is, this film just sort of panders to drunken 20-somethings. I hate pandering. I hate obvious attempts to relate to audiences. It’s so cheap and pathetic.
I do, however, love Olivia Wilde, but in this role she is rather repulsive. The opening has her overly accommodating, an object told not to do much to challenge the menfolk. It’s obvious to the point of irritation. Later she’ll grow some. Snore.
Every scene of the film has them drinking designer beer. It’s the 20-somethings drinking expensive beer movie. The drinking gets old pretty fast, and the specific scenes are banal more than extraordinary, or:
“…just like a night of heavy drinking, it’s something you’re not likely to remember.” -Moira MacDonald (Seattle Times)
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