You’ve probably already seen "happythankyoumoreplease," if you’ve seen any romantic comedy of the last ten years that takes place in New York City, or if you’re at all familiar with Judd Apatow’s oeuvre. It’s not exactly a splash of cold water to the face when it comes to originality, but it belongs to that genre of film that doesn’t have to rely too much on being something audiences have never seen before, as long as it manages to make them laugh and go “awww” at the end.
The main character is a writer in the Big Apple, so of course he’s down on his luck; none of his friends are doing so great, either. They’re pretty-looking twenty-somethings with dead-end jobs and awesome NYC apartments, possessed of the coveted skill to drop one-liners at the perfect moment. All they’re looking for in life is happiness, as if it’s the Holy Grail, and—what do you know—it ends up being right under their noses the entire time. What happens to them has the right amount of angst to keep you certain that everything will eventually work out.
Yes, you’ve seen it before. It seems to take influence from several different sources, but doesn’t quite match up to any of them — it’s too in-depth for a sitcom, not neurotic enough for Woody Allen, and doesn’t have enough potty humor or weed smoking for a Judd Apatow’s crowd. As fragmented as it is, the plot was still satisfyingly coherent—one does get tired of these movies with great characters and no story for them to get wrapped up in. Its dialogue was the high point: humorous without being uncomfortable, serious (at times) without being stupid.
It’s a harmless movie, and enjoyable for any date night or when you just can’t think of anything else to put into your Netflix queue. It has its clever moments, its happy moments, and its moments when it tries to strum your heartstrings. My heartstrings aren’t strummed so easily, and they’re probably out of tune anyway, but I didn’t find "happythankyoumoreplease" so cheesy or pastiche that it deserved to having anything bad said about it.