In the generation of travelling pants and orange tic-tacs, producers too often seem to think they've struck upon the goldmine of teen psychology. Apparently the youth of today are world-weary disconnected outcasts of society, rejecting everything else that others deem "normal". Obviously anyone who adheres to such is shallow and living a meaningless existence... apparently. This image of iPod-clutching, trend-defying loners and their sarcastic "edgy lingo" has become rather mainstream, which is ironic considering its intense craving for all that is "indie". Critics immediately applaud titles such as "Juno", "Garden State" and "Superbad" for so effectively capturing the essence of the "Facebook Generation". Unfortunately, too often do those quirks that might serve to make a character more real and relatable become merely gimmicks tossed around over coffee between past-prime men and middle-aged women seeking to make a quick buck off the intense teenage sensation of wanting to be accepted while still feeling unique. "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist" is, sadly, no exception.
Nick (Michael Cera), obsessive music consumer and only straight member of "queercore" band The Jerk-Offs (whose name is in constant revision), is grieving after his promiscuous girlfriend dumps him on his birthday. Norah (Kat Dennings), a semi-emo and very self-conscious fellow obsessive music consumer, is wandering aimlessly through life watching out for her high-maintenance BFF while trying to avoid a pathetic and very clingy on-and-off boyfriend.
Though they share mutual friends and Norah has heard many of Nick's mix CDs, the two have never meet in person. That is until they bump into one another at a night club in New York City, where Norah recruits Nick to be her "five-minute boyfriend" in order to brush off intrusive peer Tris, who just happens to be Nick's ex-girlfriend.
This leads to a long night of dragging each other and company around New York City while pursuing two common interests: finding Norah's stereotypically wasted blonde friend, who wanders scantily-clad and drunk about the streets of the Big Apple, and tracking down their favorite band 'Where's Fluffy?', which requires its fans to find each gig through a series of clues.
After a while, it may very well be the audience that finds itself dragged along, hitting every awkward bump as each scene dully rolls on, often stalling worse than Nick's bright yellow Yugo. Though billed as a comedy, there's little to laugh at, unless you count the almost endless gay cracks (which, despite trying to paint homosexuals in a sensitive light, are usually at their dignity's expense) and an unforgiving string of gross-out humor involving communal gum, unflushed public toilets, and genitalia-related band names.
Despite doing everything it can to avoid the painted lines, most of these characters and situations end up seeming awfully cookie cutter. We've seen every personality here a hundred times (if not more), made worse by the fact that it's often the same kid type-casting his way through role after identical role. This has all been done before. Drunken blonde girls who beseech help from bewildered strangers in an embarrassingly disheveled fashion? Seen it. Cross-dressing gay musical numbers designed to make you squirm? Bad enough the first time. Every possible rehashing of high school dating memories laden with insecurities which inevitably lead to uncomfortable silences? Yup, and done to death.
There's nothing fresh here. The charm is seriously lacking. And the structure caves in after about fifteen minutes. We never feel like we're going anywhere. And you may, like I, find yourself apologizing to the friends you invited to come to the movie with you, both for the wasted afternoon and theater admission.
Encountering a movie that so fully lives up to its title as "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist" is rare. Indeed, it takes something special to make a ninety minute flick feel so... infinite.