200 CIGARETTES Reviewed by Jamie Peck
What is it that makes this retro-comedy such a downer? It's certainly not the cast, which includes enough hot, young talent for several movies. There's Courtney Love, cementing her reputation as a serious actress; Christina Ricci, hot off her shoulda-been-nominated turn in "The Opposite of Sex"; Paul Rudd, who gets even more appealing with every role; Kate Hudson, inheriting some fine acting genes from mom Goldie Hawn; and Affleck brothers Ben and Casey, two of the best things about "Good Will Hunting." Perhaps the question is this: What drew these and other immensely talented actors to such a dreary project?
Maybe it looked good on paper. "200 Cigarettes" is composed of a series of vignettes, as various characters make their way through New York's festively decorated East Village to a holiday bash thrown by a jittery bundle of nerves named Monica (Martha Plimpton, all dressed up in her best Cyndi Lauper). Among the potential guests are likeable cad Kevin (Rudd) and his best friend Lucy (Love), busy bickering over his recent break-up, and a clumsy but seemingly charming bartender (Ben Affleck) who opens his mouth only to spew forth bad pick-up lines.
More subplots - _many_ more - dot the big picture, but those listed above are the only ones worth noting in a positive light. All the other story tangents are as frazzled as a cokehead trying to solve a Rubick's Cube. Ricci and Gaby Hoffman grate as two Ronkonkoma gals (the kind that have trouble pronouncing hard consonants) out to have a high time in the big city. Infamously acerbic comedienne Janeane Garofalo is wasted in what amounts to a several-scene cameo. Hudson, as a pretty-in-pink klutz recently devirginized by a reprehensible ladies' man (Jay Mohr), trips, pukes and gets smeared with dog poop. Are we laughing yet?
The film boils down to a mixture of the good, the bad and the gaudy, with the latter two overtaking the former. Game performances - especially by Love, Rudd and Plimpton - are almost shot down by the bizarrely colorful parts and a constantly roving focus, here a combination that mostly sputters when it should crackle. Too many sidetracks rate as uninteresting and have little payoff until a lengthy final montage where we find out many of the performers served as one night stands for each other. If this is "200 Cigarettes," then get me 200 nicotine patches.
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