Reviewing The Hangover Part III Without Having Seen It

I didn’t start this website to get laid, make friends, turn a profit, or better my life in any way whatsoever. Which is good, because it hasn’t managed to do any of those things. So I’m not risking anything by coming out with both guns blazing: The Hangover was a comedy for stupid people. Did I watch the film during its opening weekend? Yes. And did I laugh a good deal? Yes. What I didn’t understand was the film’s subsequent, massive popularity. I felt like a sane German circa 1939: “Sure, Hitler is a great speaker, I’ll give you that much. Maybe I even think the country could use a little more lebensraum. But that other thing? Have you ever even tried a bagel, Hans? They’re delicious.”

Two years after The Hangover, the world was “treated” (in the same way your girlfriend is “treated” to a Dutch oven) to The Hangover Part II. Somehow, despite being a scene-for-goddamn-scene remake of the original, the same people who hailed its predecessor like footage of Jesus imprinting his visage upon the Shroud of Turin couldn’t blurt out fast enough how the sequel was an unfunny shitstain of a film. For my money, I got the same amount of joy from the second Hangover as I did the first. Part II even had a monkey. I’m not sure who taught you how to laugh, but where I come from, a monkey is dollars in the ha-ha bank.

Now, The Hangover III is being released, promoted with the tagline “It Ends,” which reads like a promise of blessed relief at this point. Relief because The Hangover Part III is a movie of obligation. The studio was obligated to make it after the first two films grossed so much cash. The cast and director were obligated to return to the scene of their previous crimes because the studio paid them like this. And everyone involved is betting you’re going to feel obligated to watch the damn thing because you saw the first two and habit is an amazing motivator.

Well guess what: You’re not going to miss a thing if you skip The Hangover Part III. In keeping with recent tradition, two-thirds of the movie’s jokes are given away in the film’s trailer. Alan kills a giraffe. Leslie Chow is back. The ageless John Goodman (I guess we can add fat to the list of things that don’t crack) has been hired to bring some of his Walter Sobchak magic to the affair. The whole thing comes off as unrehearsed and spontaneous as sex with your spouse of 17 years.

You know what movie is more deserving of your money this weekend? Fast & Furious 6. I wish that line were part of some elaborate joke, but the movie somehow currently holds a 74% rating over at Rotten Tomatoes. This is where America has wound up, with me recommending the fifth sequel to The Fast and the Furious as the most original, intellectually-nourishing option at the theater this weekend. As I type those words, I feel like a parent the moment they realize their child will never live up to the potential of their youth, and it’s time to be happy that they’re at least not addicted to methamphetamine or short.

Fin.

Tagged as: Movie Review.