Basically, you have a story of a woman throwing a New Year's Eve party and panicked that no one will show up. Meanwhile, ALL (as it seems) of the invitees are meandering around NYC killing time until the party begins, having really meaningful conversations about nothing, and, at one point or another, getting into the cab driven by Dave Chapelle. These people are loosely connected by their cab ride and the party at the end.<br /><br />There's no payoff, as we only get to see the party through Polaroid snapshots during the credits. Meanwhile, we're treated to the most god-awful stereotypes of human beings: a whiny and neurotic single gal, Jersey girl snobs--with accents to match, a morose poet type, punk rockers, a cute but dumb bartender, two best friends (one of which always sleeps with the other's boyfriends--and yet they're still best friends), a handsome young man who has the curse of women falling all over him, and, worst of all, the wise and flawed Black person to offer commentary on all these white people. Ugh.<br /><br />One good thing: the soundtrack!