Dir. Todd Phillips, USA, 2011, 102mins
Cast: Bradley Cooper, Zach Galifianakis, Ed Helms, Justin Bartha, Ken Jeong
Review by Matthew Rodgers
The Wolfpack is back. Fresh from their critically well received, half remembered adventures, which set worldwide box-office records for an R-rated comedy, the gang reunite for this worryingly hasty return to the big screen. By definition, sequels are a risk, but can you actually recall a successful second comedy instalment? Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls, Ghostbusters 2, Arthur 2, and even Sex in the City 2. They may have registered with the bean counters, but they pale in comparison to their predecessors in terms of the laugh quota.
When it comes to The Hangover: Part II, the mantra appears to be “if it ain’t broke, break it a little bit further, filthier, and nastier”, as Alan (Galifianakis), Phil (Cooper), Stu (Helms), and part one catalyst Doug (Bartha), descend on Bangkok for Stu’s forthcoming nuptials. Suffice to say that one time lapse sequence later they are picking up the pieces and themselves off the floor in an attempt to figure out why there are severed body parts, a chain smoking monkey and a Mike Tyson tattoo all thrown into the hazy equation.
There’s giving people what they want, and then there’s giving them too much of exactly the same thing, and sadly for The Hangover: Part II, it’s the latter in this case.
Using a copy and paste approach means that what was initially a charming riff on the Groundhog Day theme soon becomes predictable and repetitious. Everything from the bookend wedding sequences, the appearance of Ken Jeong’s foul mouthed, over exposed (both literally and in terms of screen time) gangster, to the camera phone reveals, all are lifted directly from the first drunken stupor, and although funny in some instances, lose their impact because you can see them coming a mile off.
The Wolfpack’s hierarchy has also shifted, so much so that the once peripherally brilliant Galifianakis now holds centre stage. This is not a bad thing, as he regularly generates the belly laughs with his weird combination of man-child and borderline Norman Bates. The problems stem from the knock on effect this has on the rest of the talented cast. Thankfully this doesn’t apply to Bartha’s forgettable character, who once again remains largely absent from proceedings, replaced by an increasingly annoying monkey. It’s the edge that it removes from Cooper and Helm, who are reduced to reactionary, arrogant characters, and most notably in Phil’s case, asked simply to undo his shirt as a replacement for genuine charisma. Instead of being a stag group that you’d raise a Jägermeister to, they are now that obnoxious group that you wish would move onto the next lady-boy strip club.
One thing director Phillips does do is fill the often lengthy times between laughs with some great Bangkok vistas and a few sequences edited to an eclectically booming soundtrack, the standout of which is a meditative flashback, which depicts the trio as youngsters on a hedonistic rampage.
Once the effects of this review have worn off, the sober analysis may be to admit that there are laughs to be had with this, but it’s a slapdash, disappointingly lazy retread that would have been more welcome had the effects of the first Hangover been given a couple more years to wear off.
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