THE TRAILER for We Are Your Friends promised something that I dubbed Entourage Babies. You know—Muppet Babies, but with muscley white dudes. It looked like they were gonna just roll up into clurbs, kiss up on honeys, and get rich off apps. I'd been looking forward to this movie for weeks, practically salivating over the easy zingers I'd make about neck veins and fist pumps and Zac Efron in general. The advance screening reeked of Axe Body Spray and squandered potential. A dude sitting near me actually offered to bench-press a girl. I was in for a really mockable treat!
At least, I thought I was. Unfortunately (for me), We Are Your Friends doesn't have much juicy douchiness. It's not Entourage Babies. It's not much, actually.
Our hero, Cole (Zefron) is one of a crew of valley losers trying to make it big. He's a DJ (obviously) and his sleazy friends are aspiring actors and club promoters who are really just drug dealers. (They say amazing things like "Don't bro me if you don't know me!") Cole is taken under the wing of a very famous button pusher (Wes Bentley, the man who will never stop being the creepy neighbor kid from American Beauty to me) who inspires Zefron to find new sounds. Like the whole world is a plastic bag floating in the wind of potential dance beats.
Will Zefron pull off that perfect club banger? Will he score with that Mischa-Barton-season-1-of-The O.C.-esque hottie (Emily Ratajkowski)? Will he learn life lessons? Sure. Why not?
Look, We Are Your Friends isn't great, but it's not horrible. A lot of people may actually like watching Zefron sweat and grimace for 90 minutes. But if you want a great film—or even one you can tirelessly make fun of on Twitter—this isn't it. We Are Your Friends really is just that inescapable plastic bag in the breeze: It's a light piece of garbage that, on drugs, might be fun to stare at for a while.