It’s mostly a blur. At some point, there was someone’s house. One guy was laying on the floor with a tiny dog licking his face while he giggled uncontrollably. A friend of a friend was picked up and creeping everybody out, and Heather Graham might have called the police on him. That is when I left. Was that my bachelor party or someone else’s? Or, was I watching The Hangover?
In comic book jargon, it is the gutter. That blank space between the sequence of images that allows your brain to fill in the gaps. Your imagination searches through the universe of possibilities based on the visible evidence.
The Hangover translates this to the big screen. The main difference is he Dali-esque absurdity of the evidence. You see, Doug is getting married on Sunday. He and a couple of friends, along with the bride’s brother, head off for Friday night in Vegas (baby). We see them toasting to the night to come, then the film breaks and resumes late Saturday Morning. The writers take a crack at what would be the most perplexing evidence to wake up to, and then let it slowly ravel.
There are times when it is so funny, you can’t keep your eyes open. There are also times where it is so cringe inducing, you can’t keep your eyes open. For all the shut eye, however, there is a fair amount of the movie you will actually watch. And with a little buzz to stretch one chortle to the next, it can be a belly-aching experience.
I can strongly recommend blazing it up for The Hangover, but be warned. While it does have the boundary busting humor of Forgetting Sarah Marshall, it is thin on charm. The movie is all about alcohol and date-rape drugs. Where the mushroom Vegas trip in Knocked Up toys with the senses, Jaegermeister leaves the rust on this razor blade.
A special shout out does go to Zach Galifianakis. His turn in this movie is special. Not special like Leonardo DiCaprio in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape. Ok, a little like that. He owns the character to a terrifying degree. After this film, I wouldn’t want to meet either of them without their parole officer present. No asylum, insane, political or spiritual, could hold him. Alan (Galifianakis) is excruciatingly cracked and honest. He is a never ending barrage of words and actions that range from brilliantly stupid to utterly revolting. His challenge to decency forces you to define lines that are, otherwise, never pondered. And, at altitude, that feeds the munchies in your subconscious.
If you have worn out your copy of Old School and don’t feel like watching Superbad, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Knocked Up or any other in that litany, give The Hangover a spin. With a bit of herbal seasoning to cover up the tasteless bits, it’s a yummy, if not wholly, just desert.
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The Haute Critique