Originally published on metropolis.co.jp on December 2011

Uncle Don’s tips for improving your New Year’s Eve: Skip this piece of crap. But in a way you have to admire director Garry Marshall. It’s not easy to assemble two dozen actors, as well as Ashton Kutcher, and give them absolutely nothing interesting to say or do. Marshall has already inflicted upon us the similarly unwatchable Valentine’s Day. This pointless two hours of fingernails on a blackboard plods among several fatuous romantic subplots. None of these are remotely engaging, but they all come with a patented, rose-colored Marshall message like “follow your heart” or “be yourself” or “take that chance.” Just shoot me. Soulless, calculated, schmaltzy and execrably written, this affair-to-not-remember isn’t a movie, it’s a product, stringing together unctuous platitudes, weak comedy, and blatant product placement. Am I being too subtle here? The champagne’s flat. Halle Berry, Robert De Niro, Michelle Pfeiffer: what were you thinking? This movie is so shallow that if you went wading in it, you wouldn’t get your toenails wet. To quote those two old-fart Muppets, Statler and Waldorf, I’ve seen detergents that leave better films than this. And oh, have a good one.