Chick flick heaven

Sunday Tasmanian - Tassie Living - - Movies - LEIGH PAATSCH New Year’s Eve Now show­ing Vil­lage Cine­mas

THE more you try and trudge against New Year’s Eve ’ s con­stant flow of sticky- sweet sludge, the more over­pow­er­ing it be­comes.

Like that 2010 fluffy- bunny feel- gooder Valen­tine’s Day, there are many, many stars go­ing blah- blah- blah about every­thing lifey and lovey- dovey.

Such mat­ters are ad­dressed with all the sin­cer­ity of a spam email from a Rus­sian dat­ing agency.

But who re­ally cares when you can also dis­cover what it’s like to be trapped in a lift with Ash­ton Kutcher for the night?

( Spoiler ahead, ladies: you will be­come his eter­nal love slave well be­fore a re­pair­man can come to the res­cue.)

Kather­ine Heigl ( as a posh caterer) hates Jon Bon Jovi ( global rock sen­sa­tion, both pic­tured) be­cause he backed out of a former re­la­tion­ship.

Robert De Niro ( griz­zled old guy) has a ter­mi­nal dis­ease so ter­mi­nally ter­mi­nal he might cark it at 11.59pm.

Halle Berry ( his nurse) will do all she can to en­sure he lives at least two min­utes longer.

Hi­lary Swank ( city of­fi­cial) is in charge of the Times Square count­down.

Sarah Jes­sica Parker ( over- pro­tec­tive glam­our mum) has lost her daugh­ter at the same lo­cale.

Jes­sica Biel ( 9 months preg­nant) is in a race for a cash prize to push out the first baby of 2012.

Put sim­ply, New Year’s Eve just is what it is: a mas­sive slab of a chick flick the size of Uluru. You can hap­pily do the climb. Or do your time in ab­so­lute agony.

The choice is all yours.

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