‘Happy Hours’ Review: Katie Holmes and Joshua Jackson Aim to Charm, but This Reunion Is Likelier to Make You Cringe Than Swoon

Dawson’s Creek fans will enjoy a real nostalgia fest with the latest film written, directed by and starring Katie Holmes. With her former castmate Joshua Jackson as her co-star, Happy Hours proves that the two performers still have undeniable chemistry and make middle-age look damn good. Unfortunately, this romantic drama receiving its world premiere at the Tribeca Festival is one of those movies in which the characters and situations feel so contrived and inauthentic that you find yourself shaking your head in befuddlement.

The first tip-off for this film about former high-school sweethearts reuniting decades later is the onscreen quote by Alan Watts before the story begins. It’s but the first of many attempts by Holmes to show that she’s done a lot of reading. By the time we hear similar shout-outs to Neruda and Rilke it’s long become apparent that she’s also seen a lot of Woody Allen movies.

The story naturally takes place in Manhattan, where everyone goes about their days in the most photogenic environs possible, from Central Park to Washington Square Park to Chinatown. Nearly every location is recognizable even for those who don’t live in the city. 

Holmes plays Liz, a recently divorced photojournalist who’s no longer interested in shooting celebrities but, much to the consternation of her agent (Constance Wu), would rather photograph real people. To that end, she wanders the streets, encountering canoodling couples at every step as if the city had been infected with a love virus. 

Developing one of her shots, she discovers a familiar figure in the background. It turns out to be her former love Andrew (Jackson), who we soon learn is a renowned travel writer with a new book out. Of course, Andrew is not just any travel writer, say the sort who writes about upscale Maldives Islands resorts. He’s the serious kind, one who makes proclamations on the order of “I think it’s important to have the global experience expressed through local conversation.” 

In but one of many convenient coincidences peppering the storyline, Liz is asked to photograph Michael for a magazine story. Cue the awkward reunion, with Michael seeming delighted and Liz putting on a cool front. Eventually, they agree to a date over coffee, to which each brings a list of prepared questions. Because that’s what every couple does when they haven’t seen each other in a long time.

Happy Hours is also the sort of movie in which a fateful miscommunication that could easily be cleared up in a few seconds is instead dragged out for much of the running time. In this case it involves Michael’s declaration that he has someone new in his life and Liz immediately freezing him out because she thinks he’s seeing someone else. Of course, it’s not what she thinks, but rather just more proof that Michael is a certifiable catch.

Along the way, we’re shown flashbacks featuring the couple as lovestruck teenagers (Johnna Dias-Watson and Jack Martin, both looking suitably moony) bonding over their shared adoration for the music of Blondie. We also learn the reason they broke up and never communicated afterwards, which makes about as little sense as anything else in the film.

In between the hopelessly awkward scenes in which Liz and Andrew display the emotional intelligence of reality show contestants, there are attempts at comic relief involving several supporting characters. Particularly cringey are the scenes featuring Mary-Louise Parker as Liz’s randy aunt, who’s happily juggling a series of sexual partners. On the other hand, Michael’s frequent interactions with his teasing best friends Charlie (Joe Tippett) and John (John McGinty), with much of their dialogue delivered in ASL because of John’s deafness, are amusing if more than a little forced.

The two leads are such likeable, soulful performers that it’s even more disappointing that the film doesn’t feel believable for a second. Holmes had indicated that Happy Hours is the first installment in a trilogy, à la Richard Linklater’s Before films.  She may want to rethink.