An often monotonously beat-for-beat coming-into-adulthood character study occasionally bolstered well by its innovative direction and the authentic sincerity from its young cast, particularly from lead stars Zac Efron and Wes Bentley, We Are Your Friends is focused, vibrant and sometimes charming, but lacks the rhythm and swagger it needs to really energize the crowd.
In trying to tell the story of Cole (Efron), a San Fernando Valley DJ wannabe in his early 20s prided with slick hair, a closet full of tank top shirts and a heart filled with ambitions, director Max Joseph eagerly wants to emulate the swagger and young sophistication of Saturday Night Fever for a more modern, tech-suave and macho-headed crowd. But it doesn’t have the originality or story stamina to pull it off. Cole and his group of not-especially-bright slacker friends, consisting of Ollie (Shiloh Fernandez), Mason (Jonny Weston) and Squirrel (Alex Shaffer), are the kind of guys who’d rather spend their days smoking weed, feeding the film's Corona Light sponsorship and sticking their middle fingers to the world than conform to society’s ideals, but they’re not appealing, compelling or entertaining enough for us to grow attached to.
They come across like any other sweaty, oversexed knuckleheads you’d find near your closest Hollister, and not in a good way. Their less-than-sweet personas aren't necessarily irksome enough to be bothered by, however, for Cole’s friends are quickly thrown aside as soon our inspiring musician locks eyes with the beautiful Sophie (Emily Ratajkowski). Dancing by herself at the club he lends his talents to in exchange for free drinks, they’re quick to spark a conversation with one another, but their dialogue together isn't centered on themselves but rather the professional disc-jockey juicing the dance floor at the moment: James (Bentley). Cole thinks he’s pretty cool, but she thinks the guy on stage is a self-professed genius whose greatness was spent after he became world-famous.
Regardless of what his new lady friend thinks, our protagonist is quick to acquaint himself with the man of the hour after they share some hash in the club's back alley. As their night later becomes infested with more liquor-digesting and some added PCP-inhaling, Cole is awoken by the bright light of the next morning to find he's got a dry mouth, a stinging hangover and the woman he met just the night before hanging over him as he lays on a couch that's not his own. Turns out, he ended up crashing at James’ house and Sophie’s actually his girlfriend/personal assistant and, upon hearing some of Cole’s tracks, the three of them find themselves in a partnership of sorts, one ending up a little too personal for them all to handle appropriately. Despite the three-way connection established, it’s the bond shared between our handsome slider with a heart of gold and his elusive, alcoholic mentor that earns the most interesting commentary and dichotomy. Unfortunately, though, the movie’s most engaging aspect is not at the center of its beating heart.
Rather, it’s just one faction of the mainframe, shared between Cole’s budding romantic feelings for Sophie, him learning — alongside his buddies — that life isn’t one big party to crash and harshly coming to grips with other real-world problems found through the economic assistance of real-estate sleezeball Paige (Jon Bernthal). Despite We Are Your Friends serving as his first feature film, Joseph balances the different subplots fairly well and gives each a fair share of meditative weight, even if some are better handled than others. Sadly, however, he and his co-writer Meaghan Oppenheimer, under a story by Richard Silverman, take their original screenplay in the most generic venues. The predictable plotting is occasionally saved by Joseph’s keen sense of style, one livened during Cole’s animated drug sequence near the top of the hour and his text-heavy montage halfway through breaking down how he gets a crowd moving with the right Beats Per Minute (BPM) — something he’s compacted to a science — with his music.
Momentarily flashes of invigoration, however, aren’t enough to make the otherwise uninspired backbeat of the story sing. That said, real-life DJ Pyramid does provide some fine music for Cole to strut, but he provides less a tempo for Joseph's movie to go and more a beat for it to bounce along with. Much like everything else here, it provides a superficial atmosphere and mood that’s often agreeable, but not giving the texture or depth the movie wants to communicate, particularly during its drama-heavy last act.
With its slick disposition, cool-headed approach and early 20s-something idolizing of its surroundings, one where nearly every female character is made to look like a supermodel, We Are Your Friends is, much like Entourage earlier this summer, well polished but flimsy by design. High on itself as it is on booze, Axe body spray and whatever drugs it can find, it bumps and grinds but doesn’t necessarily form a pulsating groove. Tweens will love seeing their heartthrob Efron strut his stuff, and he does a fine enough job here, but there’s not much here for anyone beyond their mid-20s, and even they’ll have a hard time really falling in love with these aimless douchebags and their millennial, self-conceded dismay. It knows how to hit all the necessary notes, like a lot of techno music, but it doesn’t communicate enough soul for it to sustain itself, or earn many friends for that matter.