Questions about ‘Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist’

This contrived romance between a poor high schooler from Hoboken and a rich catholic school girl from Englewood left me with too many questions. Do you know how far apart just in miles those two cities are? How would they have met, let alone dated for six months? Plus, the conceit that a Jewish girl, one whose dad owns Electric Lady no less, goes to that same catholic school? And she can’t make her own mix tapes? Those three catholic school girls wouldn’t be slumming it in the village or Williamsburg every weekend. And about the Village, do you really think it’s so desolate, even overnight? Where are all the NYU students, let alone real, diverse people are who share the streets, and where are all the cars, meaning specifically, parked cars? Why would those teens, number one, have driven into the city in the first place and number two, have driven in two separate cars? In real life they would have taken the Path train. How do those supposed teens always find not only parking spots, but parking spots that they can pull right into, not have to back-park or double-park? Every single time? Even midtown? Come on. Did they ever hear of a metrocard? And come on, that band got a gig in the city? And the guy was blasé about it? And nobody, absolutely nobody had an accent?

These spoiled NJ ‘bridge and tunnelers’ are unconvincing as being anywhere near actual high school age who live in a sanitized alternate universe where they roam NYC among their own pack, mixing with no others. How dare this flick encourage female abandonment not once but twice? And considering the driving plot point was to find some band but not Norah’s drunk girlfriend, the misplaced tension was annoying. Why did I care about where drunk girl will end up more than her bff did? This movie has a desperately needed makeover moment for the lead girl, but why would the guys conveniently have had a stash of girls’ underwear in their van? Since when does being gay = cross dressers?

The best line, which was said by likeable Michael Cera, “This is not a cab, my friend, I assure you.” was spent in the trailer. And no one is drunk enough to think that yellow mess of a car might be a cab.

The only piece of this movie that rang true was the lead character’s sincere angst suffering the pain of his broken heart, down to his giving in to the temptation of reconnecting with his former girlfriend at the expense of a possible new connection. Too bad this story didn’t stick to real emotions like that instead of trying to create a teen reality that isn’t.