Eight twenty-somethings hit the hip streets of LA for some club life, binge drinking and sex. The guys all drive luxury sport coups, have uber yuppie jobs — well one of them is a pro football player even though LA has not had a pro team in years — and incessantly chatter about getting laid. The young ladies are equally shallow. They dress to the nines, talk about oral gratification and seem only concerned by self fulfillment. After a lot club mugging, punctured with shards of popcorn psychology, everyone gets what they want, until one of the swanky blondes (Tara Reid) cries date rape on the arrogant football stud (Jerry O’Connell). That’s when the “he” lawyer (a beleaguered looking Sean Patrick Flanery) and the “she” lawyer (Amanda Peet) take sides and the film becomes a vapid marriage of “90210” and “LA Law.” The characters are listless, nearly loathsome, and the dialogue, inanely irresponsible — especially the football grunt’s “she wanted it” spiel. About the only things that work in this trashy tedium are its techno back-beat, the vignettes of soft-core erotica and Ron Livingston’s hilariously tenacious horn-dog.
