New Year's Eve (2011)

Yes, I watched "New Year's Eve," even in the middle of my 2012 holiday movie-watching frenzy. In my defense, it was on HBO and I was folding laundry while I watched it, my wife sitting near me wrapping Christmas presents. And I can confirm what you already know - that neither of us missed a moment of this lame film's plot even as we tended to our chores.

"New Year's Eve" follows in the template of "Valentine's Day," made the year prior and also by director Garry Marshall, who once made popular romantic comedies and dramas I enjoyed very much ("Beaches," "Pretty Woman," "Frankie and Johnny," "The Other Sister") and now seems content to corral the largest A-lists casts one can assemble and pick a holiday as a theme for the actors to work with. I say "theme" instead of "plot" on purpose, because there is no plot.

The most unsufferable thing about "New Year's Eve" and movies like it (I have to confess that I have not seen "Valentine's Day" and now most likely would not bother to) is that what the creators pass off as "plot" is the concept that over a half-dozen little story lines will take place simultaneously and then, at the end, we'll find out that there are actually connections between various characters from those stories that seemed, up until then, disconnected. Someone will suddenly be revealed as someone else's daughter, or the love of their life that they gave up, or whatever.

Directors in the past - most notably Robert Altman - have had great creative successes with the sprawling character format, weaving together mini-plots into some great meaning by the end. But Marshall seems to believe that the enjoyment for the audience, the payoff if you will, will come just in learning how the characters are connected. Frankly, it's insulting.

Even more insulting is the sense that each actor who appears in the film was paid for a day's work and given no more than 10 pages of script. None of them invest anything close to what they are capable of because the paycheck for an afternoon of a cameo appearance in a schlock romantic comedy doesn't compel them to excel, and, in their defense, none are likely given the kind of backstories and time to prepare for their roles afforded them in other situations.

As such, "New Year's Eve" has the shimmer of pedigree by virtue of its unbelievable cast. It's a miserable film starring some of Hollywood's best, their Oscars clinking into each other off-camera. DeNiro, Halle Berry and Hilary Swank. Then, you stir in some more huge and reliable stars: Michelle Pfeiffer, Josh Duhamel, Sarah Jessica Parker. And for pop culture relevancy, you add in some big names from the worlds of television (Lea Michele, Katherine Heigl, Alyssa Milano, Seth Myers, Sofia Vergara, Ashton Kutcher, Jake T. Austin) and the music business (Jon Bon Jovi, Ludacris, Joey McIntyre).

That's an impressive list of names! But the list of names is the only thing that impresses.

Normally I take time to recap the plot. I won't bother here. Like I said, there's not much of one to speak of. The closest moments of genuine cinematic interest come from DeNiro's few scenes as a dying man preparing for transfer to hospice, Halle Berry as a lonely soldier's wife and nurse, and shockingly, the film's most lively turn from my-how-he's-growing-up Zac Efron as a young bicycle courier attempting to make all of Michelle Pfeiffer's bucket list items come true in exchange for a set of tickets to the hottest New Year's Eve party in New York City.

Even amid the sub-par everything, some of the film's big names - Heigel and Duhamel chief among them - manage to stick out in the worst possible way with some of the worst acting I've seen in a long time, which is saying a lot considering the fact that no one here was required to be on his or her game.

There is, perhaps, some redeeming value in "New Year's Eve," however. Lea Michele and Jon Bon Jovi sing a little. Efron shows off his dance moves. And the time I spent folding laundry did not pass in silence.

I suppose I will at least entertain a glance at the cast list when Marshall comes out with his next film, just to see who else he is able to coax into a few hours of work to edit into a pastiche of rom-com crap. I'm throwing in my vote for "Labor Day," a Studs Terkel-lite look at how hard famous people pretending to be blue collar workers have slaved away for the chance to consume a can of cheap beer at the dunes on a sunny, early September Monday in southwestern Michigan.

 1/2 ★