It's easy to see that Risa Bramon Garcia is a successful casting director (and not a screenwriter) for dozens of Hollywood films: the best part about this movie is definitely the on-screen talent. Except that it's wasted in a lackluster script that plays heavily on stereotypes (the little virgin in pink, the punks who are actually nice guys, the rude girls from Jersey) and fails to create any sort of compelling story. After following these cartoon cutouts around NYC for two hours, we simply don't care what happens to them - they are a really whiney bunch of people, for starters. Note for future script reading: yelling does not equal real conflict, lead characters must be likable on some level, and, if you spend the entire movie setting up a New Year's eve party, for God's sake, show the party on screen! The Polaroid montage may have saved you money, but it didn't save the film.
One final note - the casting may pull in the teen set, but I was a high school teacher until two years ago and I GUARANTEE that virtually nobody under the age of 21 knows who Elvis Costello is.
Sorry, one more thing. Why, oh why, in this day and age, are we doing a film that is such a lengthy and impassioned advertisement for teen smoking?