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The Little Drummer Boy | Michael Cera finds love, indie rock-style, in Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist.

NICK AND NORAH’S INFINITE PLAYLIST
Directed by Peter Sollett. Starring Michael Cera, Kat Dennings, Ari Graynor, Jay Baruchel. Opens Fri, Oct 3.
***1/2

Every film starring the cherub-faced Michael Cera has geared itself toward teenagers (Superbad, Juno), and his newest high school romp, Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist, skews even younger than that — roughly between the ages of 12 and 15. But that innocence is also its biggest selling point, and if you can even remotely channel your inner adolescent, there’s a ton to like (and surprisingly little to groan at) in director Peter Sollett’s take on the “best night ever” comedy subgenre.

Cera’s Nick begins the movie hiding out in his bedroom on a school day, dejected at being dumped by the snarky, shallow Tris (“on my b-day,” as he sadly reminds her in one of several messages he starts to leave on her voicemail). He’s also been making her a series of mix CDs, which she scoffs at in public before throwing them away — whereupon they’re salvaged by Norah (Kat Dennings), a sarcastic, indie-cool girl who appreciates Nick’s taste as well as the underlying sentiment. Nick and Norah have never met, but after a string of coincidences at his fledgling band’s show, they end up side by side in his beat-up Yugo, combing New York City in search of both a mystery gig by their favourite group and Norah’s friend Caroline, who has gotten herself incredibly drunk and lost. And while all this is going on, of course, they fall for each other.

It’s a familiar path, but there’s something refreshing about the way Nick and Norah follow it. There aren’t any ridiculous villains to be conquered, just teenage awkwardness battling the usual hormonal flares, and — aside from one running gag about Caroline’s disgusting piece of gum — there’s no pointless raunchiness. It’s a sparkling, pristine vision of teenage love, and it makes for a kind of escapism that seems rarer than ever right now. New York itself cleans up its act for them, too: its hobos are funny and harmless, and all of the city’s congestion has disappeared. It’s a wonderland where you can pull up in front of the Bowery Ballroom and walk right past the bouncer with a smile and nod.

Cera is armed with his usual deadpan charm and impeccable comic timing, and Dennings is able to hold her own surprisingly well. Both of them have a solid handle on the tics and insecurities that make teenagers such interesting creatures, and that basic timidity suits Sollett’s tone nicely. (Even the climactic sex scene doesn’t go all the way: when the camera pans back after Norah’s offscreen moans subside, they’re both still fully dressed, with her pants only unzipped.) Ari Graynor and Jay Baruchel also turn in great bit parts that help keep the ramshackle plot chugging along.

Given the title, as well as the internet buzz about its ultra-hip soundtrack, it’s a little disappointing that the music itself plays such a minimal role in the film — even Juno made time for impassioned rants about The Stooges and Sonic Youth. But the backgrounding is understandable: as Nick and Norah race around town all night looking for this show, stealing coy glances and slowly wresting personal information out of each other, you get the sense that the last thing they want is to actually find it.