The Hangover Part III

When director Todd Phillips unleashed The Hangover, he really let the dogs out in one of the funniest movies of the last five years.  The sequel wasn’t an entire dud, keeping enough of what worked while choosing to recycle most of the plot of the first movie without much vigor.  For Part III, we’re promised an end to the trilogy, an end that’s more Godfather III than Dark Knight Rises.

There’s no wedding, no bachelor party, not even a morning-after hangover – just an intervention for man-child Alan (Zach Galifianakis) after an unfortunate incident involving a giraffe.  En route to rehab, Phil (Bradley Cooper), Stu (Ed Helms), and Alan are abducted by mad mafioso Marshall (John Goodman), who’s got a beef with Leslie Chow (Ken Jeong).  Tasked with finding Chow, the Wolfpack goes on the hunt.

The Hangover Part III is not a terrible movie by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s far from the resounding success of the first film.  Mercifully, Phillips doesn’t retread over the what-just-happened plot of the first two, and it’s to his credit that he attempts something new.  But in his verve for a creative closer, he left a handful of laughs somewhere along the trail, and Part III just isn’t as funny as its predecessors.  There are a few great moments, mostly due to some stellar line readings, and a moment or two of physical comedy, but overall Part III doesn’t hit the high bar on humor.  It’s not that it’s subtler; it’s just more restrained and perhaps even a bit more contemplative as the franchise winds down. 

The good news is that everyone still turns in consistently good work.  Galifianakis, the undisputed breakout star of the first film, is suitably kooky and not suited for the real world, an awkward bundle of issues that should have been worked out in kindergarten.  Cooper and Helms are still able straight men, though Helms gets more to do with his deft dry heaves, hilarious as ever.  And newcomers Goodman and Melissa McCarthy (as a pawn shop proprietor and amour pour Alan) fit in perfectly, exuberantly over the top with their collaborators; it’s a shame that they’re practically cameos, since their reliably solid work comprises much of the real treats the film has to offer.

Then we get to the bad news.  Aside from missing the consistent roaring-in-the-aisles laughter of the first film, The Hangover Part III makes the unpardonable mistake of giving us way too damn much Leslie Chow.  I don’t know who decided Ken Jeong has ever been funny, but I wasn’t invited to that meeting and indeed would have voted against it.  Chow was unquestionably the worst bit about the first Hangover, but there his presence was minimized; his expanded role in Part II was one of that film’s worst excesses.  Here, it’s worse; it’s everywhere.  It’s uninspired, hammy, amateurishly caricatured, and a little bit offensive – but the worst problem about Mr. Chow is that he’s just not funny.  And in a comedy movie, that’s a deadly sin.

But if Part III is like The Godfather Part III, Chow is unquestionably the Sofia Coppola of the flick.  But like Godfather III, Hangover III is as good a note as any to end the trilogy – not overstaying its welcome, conscious of its own finality, and without the need to suggest further installments.  The Hangover franchise has, I believe, fully run its course, and it’s better to end on a passable note than by overstaying its welcome. 

The Hangover Part III is rated R for “pervasive language including sexual references, some violence and drug content, and brief graphic nudity.”  The dialogue is pretty crude, unapologetically talking about orifices and objects of entry; there are a few firearm casualties and several discussions of drugging people.  As for the nudity, it’s prosthetic and restricted to the mid-credits scene (which maybe you don’t want to miss).

The Hangover (2009)

The Hangover isn't a terribly bright comedy, but it's laugh-out-loud in a "my cheeks hurt" kind of way, something I haven't really had since Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist.


With their best bud Doug (Justin Bartha, Riley from the National Treasure flicks [also known as the last watchable Nic Cage movies]) getting married, Phil, Stu, and Alan (Bradley Cooper, Ed "Andy Bernard" Helms, and Zach Galifianakis) decide to host the bachelor party to end all celebrations of singlehood. It's the party they never want to forget, but the next morning it becomes clear that this was the party that they can't remember: furniture is smoldering, there's a tiger in the bathtub, a baby wails in a closet, and Doug is missing. What follows is a quest to find their friend - and their memories.


Part of the magic of the film is the almost impossibly complicated shenanigans the hungover experience, and so it'd be ruining the fun if I told you any of what they discover they got into over the course of the night/morning. So, let a few generalizations suffice:

I wasn't prepared to laugh as much as I did at this movie. Perhaps the phenomenon I'm ready to call "Nick and Norah syndrome" is at fault here - it is, of course, easier to laugh at a film when watching it with multiple people. (The same thing happened with Anchorman for me, as well, a film I thought was stupid until I watched it with other people -- and fell in love.) But I was constantly laughing, smiling, or slapping my forehead during the entire movie. Like I said, my cheeks hurt; I clearly enjoyed myself.


Smart comedy? Certainly not - though none of the official Frat Pack members show up in this movie, this one might as well belong in the canon. (In fact, between this and Wedding Crashers, Bradley Cooper might as well be an honorary Frat Packer.) The Hangover is riddled with the kind of humor I've come to expect: people under the influence losing their inhibitions, profuse amounts of randomized vomiting, people ramming their heads into car doors and other objects, as well as pretty prose peppered with profanities. That, a baby in sunglasses, and the funniest photos-over-credits montage I've seen in a long while (replete with Wayne Newton cameo).


The cast is magical in their roles, especially frontmen Cooper, Helms, and Galafianakis. Heather Graham is charming but relatively one-dimensional as the Vegas wife of the gents, and there's a delightful near-cameo from Jeffrey Tambor (George Sr. of Arrested Development fame) as Doug's future father-in-law. Even Mike Tyson does a decent job of eliciting a few chuckles in his self-parodic supporting role, singing and slugging with the best of them - though the star song in this one belongs to Helms, who delivers an impromptu "What Do Tigers Dream Of?" reminiscent of his crooning moments on The Office.


A guy comedy that ought to appeal to chicks as well (the packed house I was in was made up of about half and half, all of whom seemed to be having a good time), The Hangover is more than enough fun for moviegoers looking for loads of laughs.

Deservedly so, The Hangover is rated "R for pervasive language, sexual content including nudity, and some drug material." No dearth of profane and sexualized dialogue, though nudity is fairly fleeting and played for laughs. Like all black-out nights, drugs were involved, and there's some confusion over what drugs exactly were (ab)used.