FILM REVIEW

The Hangover 2

DIRECTED BY: Todd Phillips
STARRING: Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms, Zach Galifianakis, Justin Bartha
CERT: 16

Globally, The Hangover has raked in the guts of $500 million in sales, making it what the marketing gurus have gleefully described as “the highest-grossing R-rated comedy ever”.
Maybe one day some learned fellows will unleash a major study on the subject, outlining what this tells us about humanity in the early years of the 21st century, perhaps delving deep into the collective social psyche in order to explain such strange events.  
It may take some time for these clever individuals to get their heads around it all, but in the meantime there’s a couple of things this humongous figure makes very clear, without any need to go ploughing through the psychology books.
Firstly, it tells me that I am one of very few fellows in the civilised world who didn’t like the damned movie. Or didn’t like it much, anyway. The Hangover had a couple of inspired scenes and a few good laugh-out-loud moments, but I wouldn’t go putting it in the classic comedy section, mostly on account of its over-reliance on vulgar shocks for laughs – really only a smuttier take on what the Farrelly Brothers have been doing for years, but without the class of their earlier films like Kingpin and There’s Something About Mary.
(Their latest is a full-length Three Stooges feature. Recent track record, and some very dodgy casting, mean this has all the makings of a catastrophe. Some things should just be left alone.)
The other thing these sales numbers suggest – and here’s where our esteemed psychology experts comes in – is that the public is dying for more of this stuff. They just can’t get enough of it. And, well, thankfully for this hungry public, there are not many people in Hollywood who would look at these kind of box office receipts and say, “You know, the last thing we need now is a sequel.”
So here we are – The Hangover 2. Which is technically a sequel without really being a sequel at all. It’s actually a carbon copy of the original, transplanted to a different location, with only the odd character adjustment.
It kicks off just like the first did, with Phil (Cooper) on the phone, explaining to an unfortunate bridal party that the male contingent is in a spot of bother, and might never be seen again.
This time the groom is Stu (Helms), the dentist who famously lost a tooth, the quiet man who wouldn’t say boo until the weird chemicals kicked in, after which – as they used to say about the Hulk – he underwent a startling metamorphosis. Stu has rid himself of both his one-night Vegas bride and his harping fiancée, and his new wife-to-be is Lauren (Jamie Chung), whose father clearly wishes it weren’t so.
The wedding is in Thailand, and Stu is joined on the trip by old muckers Phil and Doug (Bartha). Man-child and all round walking danger zone Alan (Galifianakis) is grudgingly allowed to come too, despite his hazardous record on the wedding circuit. Also tagging along for the ride is young prodigy Teddy (Mason Lee), the misfortunate brother of the bride.
To avoid any repeat of the Vegas disaster, there’ll be no mad night on the tear. A nice quiet drink will be had by the campfire – one beer, sealed and tamper-proof, and that will be that.
Ah, but it might take too much imagination to run with that. So the next morning the wolf pack wakes up in a dingy Bangkok hotel, and not a clue how they ended up there. Alan’s head is shaved, Stu has Mike Tyson’s tattoo on his face, and all that remains of Teddy is a severed finger in an ice bucket. Oh, and instead of a baby, they have come into possession of a monkey in a Rolling Stones jacket.
So, again, it’s time to retrace their steps and try to figure out what happened. Among other exotic wonders, this involves ladyboys, a kidnapped elderly monk, and their old acquaintance Mr Chow (Ken Jeong), who gets to repeat his naked surprise gag. He also gets the lads tangled up with big time gangster Kingsley, played by Paul Giamatti. Just last week I said I’d recommend anything starring Giamatti and Jeffrey Tambor – then they both have to go and turn up in this, making me instantly feel like an eejit.
Because I couldn’t recommend The Hangover 2 except perhaps under the most extreme duress – like being forced to watch it again, for instance.
It’s a distasteful piece of work, all round. Not just because it’s so unforgivably lazy in rehashing the original (with added car chases to kill time), or that director Todd Phillips seems eager to be as wantonly gross as possible. It’s really the cold cynicism of the whole thing, how Phillips and his writers are not just giving fans of The Hangover more of the same – it’s more of the exact same, with nothing new to offer.
Which is not much better than picking pockets – and laughing all the way to the bank, according to last weekend’s record-breaking box office.
At this point, let us stand back and allow the good doctors to commence their work.