The only entertaining way to watch New Year's Eve is as a cruel experiment in which performers stranded with absolutely no script support are forced to subsist on pure presence, which quickly becomes a blood sport in which only a few survive.
Sags when it should shimmer, labors clunkily when it should glide and - most unforgivably - plops some otherwise attractive and even talented actors into roles that are completely outside their physical and psychic comfort zone.
The movie plays like a time warp to 1951. The opening shot of the movie is a horse and buggy. Jon Bon Jovi plays pop music's hottest superstar. You half expect the actors to pass a kissing booth or an organ grinder with a leashed monkey.
Offering around a dozen barely there, aggressively agreeable mini-stories spliced together and spit out with lawnmower-style eloquence, the film is pushed to punishing lengths by the engorged cast list.