London

It's a cold night in Manhattan when Syd (Chris Evans) decides to attend the going-away party of ex-girlfriend London (Jessica Biel) in the large loft of a friend (Isla Fisher, completely wasted). Before getting to the party, Syd stops to see his bartender friend, Mallory (Joy Bryant), and meets up with Bateman (Jason Statham), a man with a serious amount of cocaine but who refuses to be called a dealer. With Bateman and drugs in tow, Syd hits the party, doing more drugs and doing more alcohol that Hemingway, Carver and Sid Vicious combined. Bateman and Syd hole up in the bathroom talking about everything from S&M to the Almighty, and eventually Syd gets up the guts to talk to London.

Try to ignore the fact that the film is misogynistic without even being funny, and the fact that Syd seems to be God since he takes in at least 23 snorts of cocaine (probably more), half a bottle of tequila, five beers, and a joint and yet is sober as a judge when he talks to London. Also ignore the hundreds of drunken conversations theyt have. Did I say hundreds? I meant millions. The fact that Richards decides to fix his camera on Bateman and Syd for most of the film as they spew pseudo-philosophical bile makes for a picture that is already contrived, obnoxious, and unbearably benign. Furthermore, Statham and Evans, both of whom can be good in the right film, don't have the ability to carry most of any film, especially one that relies so heavily on dialogue. The other main part of the film is flashbacks of conversations between London and Syd that fill in why they broke up. As much as I can enjoy Biel in films like Rules of Attraction, she also doesn't have the ability to really grab our attention with her dialogue talents.

For a film that is all about sex and drugs, you've got to marvel at the timid nature of this movie. There's little nudity, and the few sex scenes couldn't steam up the window in a dollhouse. The drug use, though excessive, is never really a source of conflict nor is it ever given any consequence. Above all, I've never seen a film waste talent the way this film does, especially Kelli Garner, who was exceptional in Mike Mills' Thumbsucker and is reduced to T&A jailbait here. London acts like those bullies who promise vicious beatings and when/if ever struck, they cower and later blame it on the sun in their eyes. I've seen more ferocious, and entertaining, spectacles at Raffi concerts.

Is that Egyptian cotton?