All those cigarettes, and nobody knows how to smoke. Everybody in ``200
Cigarettes'' smokes nearly all the time, but none of them show any style or flair
with their cigarettes. And the cinematographer doesn't know how to light
smoke to make it look great.
He should have studied ``Out of the Past'' (1947), the greatest
cigarette-smoking movie of all time. The trick, as demonstrated by Jacques
Tourneur and his cameraman, Nicholas Musuraca, is to throw a lot of light into
the empty space where the characters are going to exhale. When they do, they
produce great white clouds of smoke, which express their moods, their
personalities and their energy levels. There were guns in ``Out of the Past,'' but
the real hostility came when Robert Mitchum and Kirk Douglas smoked at
each other.
The cast of ``200 Cigarettes'' reads like a roll call of hot talent. They're the
kinds of young stars who are on lots of magazine covers and have Web pages
devoted to them, and so they know they will live forever, and are immune to
the diseases of smoking. I wish them well. But if they must smoke in the
movies, can't they at least be great smokers, like my mother was? When she
was smoking, you always knew exactly how she felt because of the way she
used her cigarette and her hands and the smoke itself as props to help her
express herself. She should have been good; she learned from Bette Davis
movies.
The stars of ``200 Cigarettes,'' on the other hand, belong to the
suck-and-blow school of smokeology. They inhale, not too deeply, and
exhale, not too convincingly, and they squint in their closeups while smoke
curls up from below the screen. Their smoke emerges as small, pale, noxious
gray clouds. When Robert Mitchum exhaled at a guy, the guy ducked out of
the way.
I suppose there will be someone who counts the cigarettes in ``200
Cigarettes,'' to see if there are actually 200. That will at least be something to
do during the movie, which is a lame and labored conceit about an assortment
of would-be colorful characters on their way to a New Year's Eve party in
1981. Onto the pyre of this dreadful film are thrown the talents of such as Ben
Affleck, Casey Affleck, Janeane Garofalo, Courtney Love, Gaby Hoffmann,
Kate Hudson, Martha Plimpton, Paul Rudd, Guillermo Diaz, Brian McCardie,
Jay Mohr, Christina Ricci, Angela Featherstone and others equally unlucky.
Ricci and Love have the kinds of self-contained personalities that hew out
living space for their characters no matter where they find themselves, but the
others are pretty much lost. The witless screenplay provides its characters with
aimless dialogue and meaningless confrontations, and they are dressed not like
people who might have been alive in 1981, but like people going to a costume
party where 1981 is the theme.
Seeing a film like this helps you to realize that actors are empty vessels waiting
to be filled with characters and dialogue. As people, they are no doubt much
smarter and funnier than the cretins in this film. I am reminded of Gene Siskel's
bottom-line test for a film: ``Is this movie more entertaining than a documentary
of the same people having lunch?'' Here they are contained by small ideas and
arch dialogue, and lack the juice of life. Maybe another 200 cigarettes would
have helped; coughing would be better than some of this dialogue. Reviewed By Richard Corliss of Time Magazine
In this comedy about a dozen or so young'uns on New
Year's Eve 1981, the first few minutes have promise (with an
all-star list of Gen-X actors), and the last few minutes provide
fun (with snapshots of lovers and losers). In between there is
a void--feeble jokes, a lot of falling down and foolish
declarations. Shana Larsen's script has the feel of a sitcom
pilot, with the actors urged to make a quick impression.
What's left? Fine turns by Courtney Love, Angela
Featherstone, Dave Chapelle and Martha Plimpton. The film
pushes them into mud, and they get up smelling sweet. Reviewed by Joe Barlow of Nitrateonline
Just as the 1970s begot a widespread cultural nostalgia for all things '50s, the end of the '90s has brought
forth an eruption of longing for the '80s. Filmmakers have been quick to capitalize on this trend: witness
Boogie Nights, The Wedding Singer and The Last Days of Disco, three recent films which used the '80s
as joke fodder, to varying degrees of success.
200 Cigarettes, the latest entry in the 1980s nostalgia wave, does not follow suit. Dumb and lumbering, the film confuses its
quantity of characters with quality characterization. Rather than developing any of the relationships it establishes early on, the
movie simply piles more actors on the screen any time the pace lags, making it virtually impossible to keep track of everyone
without creating a chart.
The story opens on New Year's Eve, 1981. The Big Apple is bustling with lonely people in search of sex partners with whom
to celebrate the special night. Let's run down the list. It gets complicated, so try to pay attention:
Kevin (Paul Rudd) and Lucy (Courtney Love) are two friends in search of a good time. Kevin, who has just been dumped by
his girlfriend Ellie (Janeane Girafalo), would have preferred to sit at home and mope, but Lucy convinces him to attend a New
Year's party with her. It's a time to celebrate, she explains, especially as it happens to be Kevin's birthday.
Val and Stephie (Christina Ricci and Gaby Hoffman, respectively) are two teenagers in search of the same party, which is being
hosted by Val's neurotic cousin Monica (Martha Plimpton) and Monica's friend Hillary (Catherine Kellner). But when Val loses
her cousin's address, the duo is stuck wandering the streets without a destination.
Ben Affleck is a handsome bartender whose company is much desired by the aforementioned Lucy, plus two customers,
Bridget (Nicole Parker) and Caitlyn (Angela Featherstone). The bartender, whose name is never given, promises to stop by the
much discussed party after he gets off work that night (What kind of bar closes before midnight on New Year's Eve, anyway?).
Meanwhile, Monica thinks her party will be a disaster: apart from Hilary, only Eric (Brian McCardie), her Scottish
ex-boyfriend, has stopped by. Eric doesn't want to party, however: he only wishes to bombard Monica with questions about
his perceived sexual inadequacy (Bridget, his girlfriend for the past six months, dumped him earlier that evening.). But Hillary
and Eric soon hit it off, leaving Monica even more depressed than before.
Jack (Jay Mohr) and Cindy (Kate Hudson) are on their second date, about to head to (you guessed it) Monica's New Year's
party. Jack is walking on air after discovering that he claimed Cindy's virginity the previous evening, though she quickly grows
tired of his constant queries about the event ("Why me? How was it?").
In the interim, Val and Stephie (remember them?) hook up with Tom (Casey Affleck, brother to Ben) and Dave (Guillermo
Diaz), a pair of friendly punks looking for a good time. Val accommodates, although Stephie just wants to go home, and
spends most of the film whining (very loudly) about this fact to anyone who'll listen.
Dave Chappelle, perhaps the funniest guest ever to appear on Comedy Central's "Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist," valiantly
tries to anchor 200 Cigarettes. He plays a cab driver (the only one on duty in all of New York, apparently) who sees his job
as an opportunity to dispense advice to his customers. He approaches life as though he were a set of Isaac Hayes lyrics:
everything revolves around sex for him ("Music makes booty spin round!" he cheerfully explains to a perplexed Kevin.).
There's no plot, per se; people exist here only to be cross-referenced and indexed, not to advance a coherent storyline. I
scribbled page after page of notes while watching this movie, trying to sort out the knotted web of relationships that the film
drapes over us. It's not an easy task. By the time the story is over, most of the characters have been gotten jiggy with at least
one of the others, even though the relationships appear doomed before they even begin. The main question asked by the film
seems to be, "Who is going to leave Monica's party with whom?" I have a better one: "Who cares?"
Most of the cast looks uncomfortable. The usually flawless Christina Ricci seems unsure of how to handle the Val character,
and chokes on her own Northern accent. Ben Affleck, given nothing of consequence to do, is content to stand back and look
pretty, giving brother Casey the chance to upstage him. As for the rest of the cast, only Martha Plimpton, Brian McCardie and
Dave Chappelle really seem to come alive, emerging as interesting people despite the screenplay's attempts to relegate them to
the background. I can't blame the other cast members for their performances, though: they had almost nothing to build their
roles upon. Whether this is due to the poor screenplay by Shana Larsen or simple inexperience from first-time director Risa
Bramon Garcia is unclear, although it may be a combination of both.
200 Cigarettes is bursting at the seams with characters, so many that no one has the opportunity to emerge as anything more
than dialogue placeholders. We don't once care about anyone here, because they've breezed past us with such rapidity that we
have a hard time remembering who they were.
The film also makes poor use of its setting: why set the story in the '80s if none of the humor or drama reflects the time period?
200 Cigarettes could have been set in 1999 with zero changes to the script, apart from a throwaway gag involving Elvis
Costello in the final scene. Had the date not been revealed as 1981 at the outset, I would have assumed we were watching a
story set in contemporary times. Nothing about the slang, costumes or hairstyles indicates otherwise.
200 Cigarettes is an incoherent, sprawling mess. Although it does occasionally throw in a clever joke or gag, much of the
"humor" stems from unflattering stereotypes (such as Cindy's constant clumsiness) or crude visuals (an unappetizing stain which
appears on the dress of one of the characters, for example). Lacking all but the cheapest of payoffs, 200 Cigarettes deserves
a warning from the Surgeon General's office: "This film may be hazardous to your intellect." Reviewed By Unknown Source at MovieReviews.org
Ironically, one of the themes of 200 Cigarettes is that you should try to make the best of every moment in life. Unfortunately I
will no longer be able to say that I lived every moment of my life to the fullest, because I spent 95 otherwise perfectly good
minutes, watching this sad excuse for a movie. Actually smoking 200 cigarettes in the same 95 minutes couldn't be any worse
for you than it is to watch the movie. Not only is it a pathetically bad film overall, but 200 Cigarettes actually has no redeeming
qualities whatsoever. The plot is scattered, thin and predictable; the acting is monumentally bad; and the style of film making
resembles a home video.
It is December 31, 1981 and the big party is at Monica's (Martha Plimpton) house. But no one has arrived yet. Her 8 invited
guests and several people that they have picked throughout the evening are wandering the streets of New York City in various
groups. Some of them know each other through their common bond of having slept with Monica, and some are total strangers.
But they all are to face their own personal neuroses before night's end.
Those who are invited are the ones that have the issues. It is up to those who aren't to help them come to terms. First there is
Eric (Brian McCardie) who is a former boyfriend of Monica's and is just getting over the heartbreak of their relationship
terminating prematurely because of his sexual performance, or lack thereof. He is one of the most bland characters, in a film
full of dullness, because he is so utterly predictable and stereotypical, a common trait of this poor production.
Bridget (Nicole Parker) and Caitlyn (Angela Featherstone) who are both extremely sensuous young women looking for someone
to handle their desires on New Year's Eve and tag along to the party with them. They stumble across a nameless bartender
(Ben Affleck) who is the one truly perfect character in a film of imperfections. He is nether sexually deprived, nor uncertain
about his future, as he is in law school. His lack of flaws is both boring, unrealistic and painful to watch. As Bridget and Caitlyn
make passes at him you are neither entertained nor humored by the sub-standard comedy.
Moving on, there is Val (Christina Ricci) and Stephie, (Gabby Hoffman) 2 teenage girls with fake identification and very different
thoughts. Val is Monica's cousin and a true fan of the New York scene. On the other hand, Stephie is convinced that she is
vulnerable to crime when the two venture out of their usual locations in search of the party that they just can't find.
Paradoxically, it is 2 punks that they meet at a bar (actually they attempt to flee from their presence, but aren't successful) who
guide them through their fears and force a level of relaxation upon their warped minds.
Of all the insanely dull and uninteresting couples, only one approaches a level of decency in both acting and plot. Wisely, the
movie's creators have put heavy emphasis on Lucy (Courtney Love) and Kevin (Paul Rudd) who are best friends and share the
common bond of being dateless. Paul has just broken up with long time steady Ellie (Janeane Garofalo) and is starting to come
to terms with his loss when Lucy informs him that Ellie had been sleeping around during their relationship. However, the only
complexity to these two characters is that they seem to want to be more than friends, and that is reiterated when they attempt
sexual intercourse in a bathroom stall on more than one occasion during this strange evening.
Finally, there are the two worst performances and worst sub-plot of the film. Jack (Jay Mohr) and Cindy (Kate Hudson) have
been going out for a short period of time and Jack just learned that he took Cindy's virginity the night before. While she
attempts to play this down and be her usual self, he is a predictably self loathing male as he attempts to deal with a string of
one night stands that includes the recently deflowered Cindy.
Very often, when a film is as putrid as this production, there will at least be a decent quality of film making to reveal an
occasional moment of glory. However, this film has neither the quality of cinematography nor the moments of glory to be
highlighted. Instead, what you get is a collection of rough and inconsistent cuts, bad continuity and inaccuracies. First, and
most noticeable is that as the film goes from one subplot to another, there is no apparent order that it follows, and it is also
weekened by unnecessarily edgy edits from scene to scene and shot to shot. At other times, objects seem to get up and move
and hairstyles and costumes change from shot to shot. There are also at least 4 scenes in a taxi cab that go from start to
finish. Not in a single one of them does anybody pay the driver.
And yet, no matter how miserable this film may be, and no matter how poor the acting is all around, there was a ray of a hope
for these many bad plots. Perhaps, if the makers had just decided to concentrate on one or two or, perhaps, even three, there
might have been the time and opportunity for some character development, or quality acting, or even a decent plot payoff at the
end. But it didn't happen that way. The cast of quality name actors was forced into roles that not even one of them could
convert into a mediocre performance, and every story line crashed and burned quicker than it takes for the ball to drop at
midnight. Reviewed By James Berardinelli of Reel Reviews
The first question I asked myself at the end of 200 Cigarettes was how such a talented group of actors could create such a
lifeless motion picture. This is a loaded cast, a virtual "who's who" of the Generation X scene. Yet, despite all of the charisma
and ability on screen, 200 Cigarettes is a tepid affair, distinguished by bland character development, uninspired and insipid
dialogue, and a nonexistent plot. Admittedly, it is sporadically amusing, but there aren't enough jokes to earn the film even a
lukewarm recommendation.
One could make the argument that the movie is just a vehicle to sell the soundtrack, which is overcrowded with early '80s
tunes. For some unknown reason, director Risa Bramon Garcia (making her debut in this capacity after a successful career as a
casting director) and screenwriter Shana Larsen elected to set the film on New Year's Eve, 1981 when it could have as easily
been set on New Year's Eve, 1999. Garcia overdoes the pop cultural references, letting the camera linger on them a little too
obviously (these include records, 8-track tapes, and bizarre clothes). Dumping this film in 1981/82 has an unnecessary and
gratuitous feel, but it will probably sell more CDs.
Story-wise, not much is going on. 200 Cigarettes is basically about a group of people in their late-teens and twenties who are
on their way to the same New York City New Year's Eve party. Some of them fall in love, some of them break up, and some
of them just get drunk and/or have sex. It's hard to keep track of what's going on - there are far too many characters and minor
plot threads, even for an ensemble piece. It's also difficult to get to know anyone; no individual is on screen long enough to
determine whether or not they possess an interesting personality. The only ones with more than token exposure are Monica
(Martha Plimpton), the girl giving the party; Kevin (Paul Rudd), a morose loser who's not enjoying his birthday; and Lucy
(Courtney Love), Kevin's best friend and would-be sex partner. Everyone else - Christina Ricci and Gaby Hoffman (as teen
party girls out for a wild time), Janeane Garofalo (as Kevin's ex), Ben Affleck (as a bartender looking for sex), David
Chappelle (as a disco cab driver), Kate Hudson (as a nice girl who has just lost her virginity), Jay Mohr (as the guy who took
it), and Brian McCardie (as an artist who's terrible in bed) - does what amounts to an extended cameo. Blink (or fall asleep,
which is not an unrealistic possibility) and you'll miss them.
Plotless movies like this are not necessarily pointless. Fascinating conversations, interesting characters, or unique relationships
can turn even a static motion picture into an involving experience. 200 Cigarettes has none of these laudable qualities. When
the characters talk, they say dull, forgettable things. A surprisingly high quotient of the comedy is of the unfunny slapstick variety
(characters are constantly falling down; one even takes a tumble into a pile that a dog left curbside). And none of the actors,
including the normally reliable Ricci, shows anything remarkable. The whole experience of watching this film is disheartening.
200 Cigarettes (the title probably refers to the number of on-screen smokes) loosely belongs in same category as movies like
The Last Days of Disco and 54. It relies on music and nostalgia to keep viewers involved (although, to be fair, Last Days
boasted some delicious dialogue). The result is shallow and ineffective. 200 Cigarettes has the cast of a great movie.
Unfortunately, it doesn't have any of the other necessary elements.
