The secret society of white man-children in their 30s is currently
the most represented group in American comedies. For this reigning (and
tired) subgenre, The Hangover represents a high point. It’s more
quick-witted, and just as character-based as I Love You, Man and
its director Todd Phillips’ Old School. The best scene involves
the three main bromos suffering the consequences of drunken debauchery
when corrupt cops use them for a grade-school lesson in Tasers. In
trying to recollect the blacked-out events that led to a friend
disappearing on the night of his Vegas bachelor party, it’s an improved
variation of Very Bad Things and Dude, Where’s My Car.
But like their own inability to remember, too little of The
Hangover lingers. Phillips and his sharp, semi-known cast (stars
Bradley Cooper, Zack Galfianakis, Ed Helms and Justin Bartha are
largely responsible for its strengths) strike a subversive pose. But
the film doesn’t really lead anywhere. By the end, it’s adapted to
sweet conclusions rather than embracing an anarchic philosophy. This is
in large part due to its structure: The Hangover isn’t about
crazy things happening; it’s about recalling crazy things that
happened. Only on occasion is the comedic danger palpable. Pat
conclusions and racist shortcuts (threatening blacks, emasculated
Asians) disservice The Hangover‘s real comic efforts.
This article appears in Jun 11-17, 2009.
