Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist

Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist

You know it's love when you're alone in a crowded room.

(Screen Gems) Michael Cera, Kat Dennings, Ari Graynor, Jay Baruchel, Rafi Gavron, Aaron Yoo, Alexis Dzieno, Jonathan B. Wright, Zachary Booth. Directed by Nick Sollett

They say that there is somebody out there for everyone. I suppose that’s also true of insufferable, sensitive hipsters with indie rock leanings.

Nick (Cera) has broken up with his girlfriend Tris (Dzieno); well, it’s more like she broke up with him and while his head realizes it, his heart doesn’t. He leaves her pathetic messages on her answering machines and has made a series of “breakup” mix tapes which are numbering in the double figures at this point.

Tris, like Nick, is a high school senior and she doesn’t have time for mopey losers like him. She already has a new boyfriend and is more concerned with having fun her senior year. She wants to go out, and her besties Caroline (Graynor) and Norah (Dennings) must go with her. Caroline, a party girl of epic proportions is fine with that but Norah, who is less outgoing, is just along for the ride. As Tris throws another mix CD from Nick into the trash, Norah retrieves it, convinced that Nick (who she’s never met) is her musical soul mate.

Nick is certainly musical; he is the only straight member of a New York indie rock band called the Jerk Offs along with butch gays Dev (Gavron) and Thom (Yoo). Apparently their only purpose in life is to jumpstart Nick’s romantic life, since they are sick and tired of Nick moping around. So when Norah kisses Nick in order to make an ex-boyfriend (Baruchel as the loathsome Tal) jealous, they are only too happy to nurture a budding romance, even though neither Nick nor Nora have any romantic intentions in the slightest.

They both have a good deal of baggage; Nick with his lovesickness, Norah with being the daughter of a music industry legend which, while it gets her into clubs without standing in line, often leaves her wondering if the friends in her life are only in it for the perks she brings to the table. She might not be wrong on that score.

As it turns out, Nick’s favorite band (and Norah’s too) Where’s Fluffy are playing a surprise mystery show somewhere in Manhattan and a number of clues have been left as to its location in toilets and clubs around town (I often get my information in toilet stalls, don’t you?) and most of the Scooby gang are eager to chase down this Epic band of Awesomeness.

Unfortunately, Caroline gets soooooooooooooo wasted that she needs to go home and it is up to the gay bandmates to get her there, but she flees when she figures out she’s in a strange van and so the rest of the movie is spent finding Caroline and, in the case of Nick and Norah, romance as well.

Let’s get a couple of things straight; I have no problem with indie rockers, twee hipsters or romantic comedies in general. I don’t even have any problems with high school kids. I do have issues with movies that purport to talk down to me and tell me that because I don’t like Vampire Weekend I’m some sort of clueless idiot. I also don’t like movies that paint themselves in hip colors but are really disguising the fact that they’re a standard Hollywood romantic comedy, even if they started out life as a novel.

The soundtrack for the movie is awesome, as a matter of fact; whoever picked out the music (and the highly cool Bishop Allen makes a concert appearance in the movie) can pick out my Infinite Playlist anytime they want. However, I have an issue with the movie’s internal logic. Here, the kids exist in a kind of fairyland New York City where there’s plenty of street parking, nothing bad ever happens to young women in cocktail dresses left deserted at the side of the East River in the early hours of the morning. In this world, suburban New Jersey kids are apparently able to spend the entire night out in the Big Apple without their parents freaking out and calling the National Guard. In this fairyland New York City, no parents appear other than Norah’s dad and even he is merely a picture on the wall. His presence exists to get Norah into nightclubs.

Cera is an actor who has plenty of appeal; I can see it. What he doesn’t appear to have is the ability to vary his performance much. He’s the same guy in Superbad and Juno – hell, he plays the same guy in Paper Heart when he’s purportedly playing himself. We get it – he’s sensitive, kind and far cooler than anyone else in the room. He just doesn’t play a character I connect with.

Dennings has some real chemistry with Cera and that is what makes the movie more than just a soundtrack with pictures. She’s funny, she is less too-hip than the other characters in the movie and she alone of all the people who get more than a few moments of screen time is the one I’d want to hang out with.

I will give the filmmakers credit for utilizing their location to its best. This isn’t the highbrow Manhattan of Sex and the City but more like the underground Chicago of High Fidelity. These people may have the same taste in music that I do, but they are not my people.

WHY RENT THIS: The soundtrack is great, and there is considerable warmth at the movie’s heart.

WHY RENT SOMETHING ELSE: It’s too self-consciously hip for its own good, and while I dug the music, I didn’t want to spend any time with the people.

FAMILY VALUES: There’s some lewd and crude behavior, a smattering of foul language, a bit of sexuality and some mature themes, including teen drinking and drug use.

TRIVIAL PURSUIT: The names of the title characters are based on Nick and Nora Charles, the main characters of the “Thin Man” series of books and movies.  

NOTABLE DVD EXTRAS: There’s a music video for “Middle Management” by Bishop Allen, the song that is played at the club when Nick and Norah first meet; there’s a faux interview given by American Pie’s Eddie Kaye Thomas with the pair, and a puppet version of the movie performed by Kat Dennings and a group of cardboard cutout puppets (with many bear attacks thrown in for good measure). 

FINAL RATING: 5/10

TOMORROW: The Open Road

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