The gist of happythankyoumoreplease is summed up within the first five minutes. A potential publisher tells Sam (Josh Radnor), an aspiring novelist and leading man, that he’s unsure if he’s expected to identify with the protagonist or if he’s supposed to dislike him. The character, he says, is kind of charming and kind of an asshole, and the whole novel is “just kind of.” It’s a telling bit of foreshadowing, and by the transitive property of filmspeak, we can assume that the publisher is also referring to the film itself.
Written and directed by Radnor (of television’s How I Met Your Mother), happythankyoumoreplease follows the romantic lives of Sam and his friends: Annie (Malin Akerman), a serial dater of losers; and Mary-Catherine (Zoe Kazan), who is cautiously approaching marriage. While each character has their own story, Sam’s takes center stage. In the opening scene, he’s running late for a meeting when he sees a child, Rasheen (Michael Algieri), get separated from his family on the subway. After Rasheen is dragged to the publishing house, we learn that he’s a foster child. Rather than call the proper authorities, Sam invites the poor urchin to sleep on his couch. Implausible as it may seem, Sam uses Rasheen later that afternoon to meet a bartender named Mississippi (Kate Mara), who, of course, hails from Mississippi. After a sloppy night of drinking with Mississippi, he convinces her to move in with him for three days, thus forgoing a meaningless one-night stand. When Sam’s friends find out what he’s mixed up in, they attempt to reason with him, but they have their own relationship issues to deal with.
The plot I’ve recounted is definitely absurd, but the overarching narrative is actually as ordinary and middling as a sitcom rerun: three close friends are considering the prospect of a committed future with their partners. Beyond the incidental subplot, happythankyoumoreplease takes on the conventional themes of self-discovery and urban romance while lacking any distinctive qualities. And although it was shot in lower Manhattan — a location that theoretically reflects the characters’ ambitions — it’s difficult to imagine that the script was conceived by someone who has spent much time there. The characters are one-dimensional, their conversations devoid of intimacy, and the passing references to Woody Allen and MOMA feel as though they were suggested by studio executives via conference call. The most remarkable aspect of the film could be its embarrassing undercurrent of white paternalism. It’s an anomaly in an otherwise innocuous story about finding love and happiness in Manhattan, except this version of Manhattan is almost entirely populated by optimistic and privileged white people who might as well be living on Sesame Street.
Overlooking these considerable flaws, Radnor as a director proves he can balance an ensemble cast and multiple storylines, which are all conveniently tied up in the most cloying fashion. But there is nothing subtle or surprising here. Even the soundtrack plays it safe, with its constant jangle of mid-tempo acoustic rockers from bands like Blind Pilot and Dr. Dog. Apparently, this is what happens when TV stars become filmmakers. They end up writing the lost episode of Friends.
