There's a moment early in the terrible new ensemble comedy "200 Cigarettes" when a woman, preparing to host a New Year's Eve party, turns to a friend and says, "It's going to be the worst, isn't it?"
The friend doesn't answer, but she doesn't need to. It's unspoken. And it's the same feeling that crept over me while watching this horrendously bad movie, the feeling that you'd rather be anywhere else but in the middle of this train wreck.
"200 Cigarettes" is Exhibit A (and B, C and D) as to why there are movie directors and why there are casting directors and why the two professions should remain distinct and separate. Risa Bramon Garcia has cast successful movies such as "The Joy Luck Club," "Wall Street" and "Desperately Seeking Susan." Here, she has assembled a veritable who's who of young performers, including Ben and Casey Affleck, Courtney Love, Christina Ricci and Paul Rudd.
But it's obvious from moment one, that, as a director, Garcia hasn't a clue what to do once she steps behind the camera. "200 Cigarettes" is an exercise in inertia with slapped-together, lifeless scenes that drag on and on and on. Kind of like emphysema — only less fun.
The movie is set in New York's East Village on New Year's Eve 1981. The story offers no real reason for the setting; it solely exists to serve the soundtrack. (This is an MTV Films production.) Everyone is headed to a bash thrown by Monica (Martha Plimpton) and her friend Hillary (Catherine Keller). The thing is, nobody wants to be the first to arrive, and so the clock keeps ticking, and Monica starts to fret over the crab dip.
Meanwhile, Lucy (Love) and the morose Kevin (Rudd), both dateless, argue and flirt with the possibility of consummating their friendship. Jack (Jay Mohr) and Cindy (Kate Hudson) already have done the deed — the night before — and now are awkwardly dealing with the aftermath.
Then there's Val (Ricci), who would love to find a partner, but her killjoy friend, Stephie (Gaby Hoffmann), keeps raining on her parade. Tom (Casey Affleck) is a poetic street punk; Ben Affleck plays a doofus bartender, and David Chappelle is the funky disco cabbie who dispenses advice and oversees all the action.
The pacing is awful. Most scenes play several beats too long; at one point, you can almost hear somebody (the gaffer?) yell, "Cut!" in the background. Of course, that could well have been my imagination. My mind certainly had plenty of time to wander.