Bad Teacher (2011)

Starring: Cameron Diaz, Justin Timberlake, Jason Segel, Lucy Punch

Directed by: Jake Kadsen

Written by: Lee Eisenberg, Gene Stupnitsky

Duration: 1hr 32 mins

Rating: 2.5 out of 5

Here's an odd case:  a movie that borrows the concept of another movie (typically trusted/good natured figure behaving badly) and switches the profession and gender.  Bad Teacher is in no way related to the hilarious Bad Santa, but nevertheless has the good grace to acknowledge its debt to the 2003 film via its familiar title.  That gives credit in my book, but dignity alone isn’t quite enough to save an ultimately disappointing comedy.

BAD... OR, AT LEAST, INADEQUATE

Of course, Terry Zwigoff’s dark masterpiece is an unrealistic bar to reach, and unlike some cases, the relationship to an earlier movie does not directly hamper ones enjoyment.  Sure, its idea is no longer original, but it’s still a good ‘un (the film makers may have also been inspired by the heavy-drinking, -smoking, -swearing educators in the Channel 4 comedy/drama series Teachers – unsuccessfully ported to the US in 2006).

 

MY, WHAT AN APPEALING WOMAN

So where does Bad Teacher fall short?  Something Bad Santa does well is make an unlikable protagonist sympathetic.  Willie, the heavy-drinking, foul-mouthed, antisocial antihero, is a loser, but ultimately a pitiful and harmless (except to himself) individual who’s been beaten up by life.  Bad Teacher, on the other hand, centres around Cameron Diaz’s Elizabeth Halsey, a selfish, shallow junior high teacher.   She turns up to class hungover, puts on movies every lesson, doesn’t know the students’ names, that sort of thing.  Lord knows how she successfully got through her training to become qualified in the first place.  Anyway, Halsey’s mission in life is to marry a rich man who will provide for her every whim, a plan that’s working out fine until her meal-ticket fiancée comes to his senses and leaves her.  Dejected, she soon finds an alternate target in Scott (Justin Timberlake), the new cover teacher and heir of a men’s watches empire. 
 

But to snare her new benefactor, she decides she needs to get her breasts enlarged to maximise her appeal, and so starts raising the funds by scamming the school and parents out of money in any way she can.  When the film eventually runs out of steam with that angle, it introduces a new plot development:  a competition with a convenient cash prize for the teacher whose class gets the best scores in the state, and so Halsey changes tact and for the rest of the duration the laughs are wrung out of her struggles to suddenly become the model teacher.

UGH, JUST GIVE IT UP, LOVE...

There are two main problems with this film, the biggest being Diaz herself.  All the men fancy her, despite her being thoroughly unpleasant – and on a personal level, I don’t find the woman to be particularly attractive, so when she repeatedly gets what she wants through manipulating a succession of salivating males, I found there very little to relate to.  Seeing Jason Seagal’s likable gym teacher embarrass himself by fawning all over her is just cringe-worthy.  This is just personal taste, sure (what isn’t?), but since so much of Bad Teacher hinges on Diaz’s appeal, the film can’t help but fall flat if the viewer doesn’t buy into it.  Talking of flat, the idea that having her breasts ‘enhanced’ into immobile silicone orbs will increase her attractiveness is also not something I go along with, either.  

Diaz doesn’t have the charm to pull off her worst behaviour, antics that include forcing drugs onto her butter-wouldn’t-melt middle-aged co-worker  (“Just fucking do it, weed is awesome!”);  critically assessing the youngster under her charge as ‘losers’, ‘freaks’ and so on; and stealing the proceeds from the school’s charity carwash – and her entry to the annuls of cinematic auto-sudding scenes (Cool Hand Luke, Wild Things, One Night At McColls) is anti-climatic, too, Tony Scott-style magic hour lighting and excessive slow motion substituting genuine sexiness.  

MEH...

The film also insists on laying on awful plinky-plunky Desperate Housewives-style piano cues for whenever Diaz is being manipulative, completely diluting the intended deliciousness of her scheming.

The second problem is that too much of the humour revolves around sourpuss Halsey being surrounded by extremely perky and jolly characters, so Diaz can pull a variety of unimpressed faces.  Fair enough, it’s an amusing enough concept.  But after the same routine has been repeated over and over, all we’re really left with is a film made up of annoying, over-enthusiastic jobsworths and do-gooders, with Diaz in the middle (the game Segel is the exception, but he is so under-used it’s a wonder he even bothered turning up).

RIVERS WILL BE CRIED

Timberlake does well with his anti-sex symbol role, going as far from his 'sexy back' image as imaginable and showing an admirable self-irony; coupled with his solid work in The Social Network, JT looks to be making a successful singer-to-actor transition.  There’s also a good running gag where Segel takes advantage of Timberlake’s earnestness, especially in a scene at a museum where he keeps contradicting himself and Timberlake’s flaccid Scott blindly keeps on agreeing.

AN ANNOYING CHARACTER MADE BEARABLE (JUST)

But it's Judy Punch, as the earnest ‘friend across the hall’ Miss Squirrel, who is by far the best thing in the film, effectively playing the story's antagonist – although with a lead as unpleasant as Diaz, I ended up siding with her.  She goes from do-gooder to Halsey’s nemesis, seeking to foil her colleague’s increasingly erratic scams and prevent her from stealing Timberlake from under her nose.  Punch – a familiar face on British TV and now making waves Stateside – does solid comic work throughout, and that she shines despite being saddled with the most annoying of all the annoying characters is to her infinite credit.

To be fair, Bad Teacher does avoid the temptation to give Halsey a full turnaround to remorseful sainthood, which would have been too much.  We don’t want to see a neat, comfortable character arc; we just want it to be worth spending an hour and a half of our time in her company.  Sadly, it isn’t.  **1/2

Scott Pilgrim vs the World (2010)

Starring: Michael Cera, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, 
Kieran Culkin, Anna Kendrick, Jason Schwartzman

Directed by: Edgar Wright

Written by: Edgar Wright, Michael Bacall

Duration: 1hr 52 mins

Rating: 2 out of 5

I really wanted to like Scott Pilgrim vs the World.  I love Spaced, and thoroughly enjoyed Edgar Wright’s first two movies.  Both Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz took elements from Wright’s seminal ‘90s TV show and gave them their own platform to breathe: Tim’s Playstation-all-nighter-induced zombie fantasies for Shaun, the John Woo shootout tribute episode for Fuzz.

SPACED:  SUCCESSFULLY TOWED A DELICATE LINE 

Scott Pilgrim is effectively an extension of the Spaced sequence where Daisy and Tim’s argument is intercut with footage of a Tekken bout.  Wright married this concept to existing material – Bryan Lee O'Malley’s series of Scott Pilgrim graphic novels – and hired leading man-child of the moment Michael Cera to star.  Learning that a movie is based on some obscure comic book doesn’t usually fill me with optimism, but hey, A History of Violence turned out pretty good.  I’ve enjoyed Cera’s work ever since the peerless Arrested Development; I grew up straining my thumbs on the NES and Mega Drive; and was suitably excited by the prospect of Edgar Wright’s big(ger) budgeted debut across the pond, so went into Scott Pilgrim vs the World with an open mind.

I tried to like it.  I really, really did.  But I hated it.

SOMEWHAT OVER THE TOP

Spaced was geeky.  Very geeky.  The DVD has the option to display a ‘homage-o-meter’ on screen that points out all the references, and when I watched both series this way I recognised the vast majority of them – so I guess that makes me pretty geeky, too.  But I’m not comfortable embracing the whole ‘geek chic’ thing.  I don’t have a sci-fi TV series obsession, I’m not into fantasy, I don’t love Spielberg or Star Wars, and I certainly would never attend a fans’ convention.  There’s nothing wrong with any of these things, but they’re a bit beyond me. Frankly, pure geekiness makes me feel queasy; I find it all just too childish and removed from reality – an arrested development, if you will.  Spaced came close to being too geeky but never crossed the line as it always had more down-to-earth and ‘adult’ material to supplement the nerdy stuff: the clubbing episode, casual drug usage, Mike’s guns, going to the pub.

Scott Pilgrim vs the World is like Spaced but with the geekiness undiluted.  Watching it is like downing a whole bottle of pure blackcurrant squash in one go, and I felt suitably nauseous from start to finish.

LET BATTLE COMMENCE... IF YOU REALLY MUST

I can’t help thinking that it was Jessica Hynes’ (nee Stephenson) matronly influence on the set of Spaced that stopped it from erupting into a fully-blown geekgasm.  I can picture Edgar and Simon trying to shovel more and more references, meta devices and visual trickery into an episode, and Jessica rolling her eyes and tutting, “Now come on boys, you’re just getting a bit silly now.”

Because with Scott Pilgrim, the shackles are off.  And it’s exhausting.

STUFF IS HAPPENING IN THIS SCREENCAP

The plot, if you must know, concerns our hero’s quest to win the heart of the gorgeous Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), a task that, for some ambiguous reason, requires him to defeat her seven ‘evil’ exes in hyper-reality Street Fighter-style battles involving huge swords, migraine-inducing visual effects and a general wealth of video game touches (finishing moves, power ups, energy bars, all that). 

I can sum this movie up in one word: annoying.  Within the first five minutes we’re introduced to Ellen Wong’s bubbly and hyperactive Knives Chau, possibly the most irritating love interest in the history of cinema.  I think we’re supposed to find her cute and adorable, but instead the effect is that she makes Michael Cera’s character seem like an idiot for putting up with her for more than one second.

BUBBLY, QUIRKY, KOOKY...  ALL SYNONYMS FOR "ANNOYING"

In fact, our hero is consistently portrayed as a bit thick, which is fine, but Wright and co-writer Michael Bacall make Scott's dimness so over the top it becomes completely ridiculous and alienating.  When he orders a CD online he doesn’t grasp that it won’t arrive instantly, and so sits cross-legged staring at the front door.  Hahaha, what a hilarious buffoon.

Mary Elizabeth Winstead is lovely, and I can understand any young man becoming besotted with her.  But her Ramona is so annoyingly morose and aloof that she lacks any of the sparkle that turns mere physical attractiveness into something magical.  Plus the way her hair kept on changing colour reminded me of the excellent Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, making me wish I was instead watching a movie that dealt with adult relationships in an adult way.

COME ON LOVE, CRACK A SMILE

Kieran Culkin’s flatmate is an annoying, smug know-it-all.  Anna Kendrick portrays his female equivalent; Kendrick is an actress who has aggravated me in everything I’ve seen her in, reminding me of a condescending younger sister who’s full of opinions and self-importance whilst actually knowing jack about life.  Which is exactly what she plays here.

The members of Pilgrim’s band, the Super Mario Brothers referencing Bob-Ombs, are all annoying, portrayed either as whiney emasculated males or Alison Pill’s sullen and acid-tongued bitch.

A MILLION MONKEYS RE-WRITING A MILLION THESAURUSES COULDN'T 

COME CLOSE TO DESCRIBING HOW MUCH THIS MAN IRRITATES ME

Then, for the pièce de résistance, we have Jason Schwartzman as the final boss.  I can’t stand Jason Schwartzman.  He was a nauseating brat in Rushmore and has since honed an obnoxious, hateable screen persona that gives Bradley Cooper a run for his money.  Spun, I Heart Huckabees, Funny People…  I wanted to strangle him every time. And with this flick he rises to his mugging, scenery-chewing, gurning peak.

BRANDON ROUTH VS HENRY CAVILL WOULD HAVE BEEN SPICIER

Pluses?  Well, Chris Evans displays a nice line of self-mocking irony that the rest of this earnest and eager affair could have seriously done with. And Brandon Routh’s amusing superhero vegan manages to both bring to mind his sorely-underrated Superman turn and remind us that he really should be a bigger star.

When it comes down to it, Scott Pilgrim’s biggest problem is that it’s a musical, with fighting instead of singing and dancing.  I hate musicals.  An ex-girlfriend of mine once chirped how wonderful it would be if real life was a musical, with everyone bursting into spontaneous choreographed song and dance numbers all the time.  It wouldn’t, it would be awful.  I cringe so hard when I’m forced to sit through a musical that my face has lines imprinted on it for several subsequent days.  Exactly like my experience watching Scott Pilgrim vs the World.

IF THIS REALLY WAS A VIDEO GAME, I DON'T THINK MANY
PEOPLE WOULD CHOOSE TO PLAY AS WET DOOFUS SCOTT

Wright is obviously a highly creative and visually adept filmmaker.  I just hope next time he eases up on the energy drinks and rediscovers the balance of nerdiness and maturity that made his earlier work so unique and enjoyable.  **

Predators (2010)

Starring: Adrien Brody, Alice Braga, 

Topher Grace, Laurence Fishburne

Directed by: Nimrod Antal

Written by: Michael Finch, Alex Litvak

Duration: 1hr 47 mins

Rating: 1 out of 5

I read an article recently in which a famous screenwriting 'guru' stated that a viewer will instinctively decide whether they are going to like a movie within the first fifteen minutes. Suck them in during this opening quarter of an hour and you should keep their interest until the end.  Fail, and you’re unlikely to get them back.

NOT A GOOD OMEN OF THINGS TO COME

Well, I can pinpoint the exact moment during Predators when I realised I was not going to like it.  It was the bit where our disparate gang of mercenaries is suddenly attacked by giant CGI pig creatures.  “Hmm,” I thought to myself. “This is a bit shit. I hope the rest of the film isn’t this bad.”  Sadly, it just kept on producing more and more ‘CGI pig moments' and eventually ran out of time to redeem itself, instead piling on more and more evidence of its true identity:  a lazy belated cash-in of a much-loved classic.

Post-film, I staggered out of the cinema and collapsed on the pavement to violently throw up into the gutter, my body desperately trying to purge itself of what it had just endured. My friend and viewing companion then offered the following:  “Come on, mate, considered just on its own terms it was basically an OK sci-fi action flick.”

WISH I WAS WATCHING STAND BY ME INSTEAD (WHICH, INCIDENTALLY, 

DOES ACKNOWLEDGE THAT IT'S BASED ON EXISTING MATERIAL)

He had a good point, I considered as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand – it is best to judge things in isolation, not by how they relate to anything else.  But this is no easy feat:  modern audiences almost always start watching a film with the context at least somewhat in mind.  If they’re watching because of a star or director, they’ve considered that person’s reputation.  Genres carry with them certain expectations, as do sequels, adaptations and remakes; not forgetting the hard-to-avoid reviews, pre-release buzz and word of mouth.  Stumbling across something randomly with no prior knowledge of it does still happen, of course (mostly via late night TV), but for most viewers it is extremely unlikely that no frame of reference will present itself.

LITERALLY THE ONLY SHOT THAT REMINDS US THAT WE'RE
NOT IN A MADE-UP SOUTH AMERICAN COUNTRY THIS TIME

My disappointment in Predators comes from a number of factors.  Not only is it a sequel, but also a reboot of a franchise that had been spun off into a ghastly new direction in recent years – finally, an apology for (shudder) Alien vs Predator and (shudder with convulsions) Alien vs Predator: Requiem.  To add to this, producer Robert Rodriguez claimed that this was a follow-up to Predator, not Predator 2, effectively declaring the 1990 movie non-canon and calling this new effort a replacement – bold words, considering the Danny Glover-starrer is still held in high regards by most fans.

Not only is the viewer piqued by all these factors, but it soon becomes painfully obvious that the filmmakers themselves were also hampered by this baggage.  Predators was not supposed to be a remake, it was definitely conceived as a sequel.  But somewhere along the way the homage-o-meter got cranked up so high that what we the ticket-buying public ended up with was an inferior redo.

OUR HEROES – THINGY AND WHATSIT

Seriously, there’s the odd sly nod to the audience here and there, and then there’s outright plagiarism.  Here is a run-down of exactly how Predators shamelessly copies Predator:

Use of Little Richard’s Long Tall Sally.

“What the hell are you?" 

Ol’ painless mini gun. 

A waterfall fall. 

"Over here ... turn around." 

A human vs Predator blade fight, onscreen this time (and crap).

The mud-caked hero one-on-one with predator.

"Kill me! Do it! DO IT NOW!!!" 

"You set us up!"

A log-swing trap.

Excerpts from Alan Silvestri’s original score.

Only one female member of the group, and she’s Hispanic-looking.

"You are one ugly motherfucker!"

The protagonist is left alone with the woman and the wimpiest character at the end; wimpy character gets hurt.

IN THE TRAILER, HE HAD DOZENS OF THESE ON HIM.  WHAT A CON 

I haven't felt this cheated since The Hangover Part II, but Predators is the worse offender by virtue of being connected to a series I hold dear from my childhood.  It isn’t a quick cash-in like ‘Hungover Again’ (as I’m hoping it might someday retrospectively be re-dubbed) – there’s been twenty years since the last stand-alone Predator movie.  New cast, new writers and director – surely that combination of time and fresh talent should have been able to produce more than a total rehash.  Instead it feels like Nimrod Antal was directing with a monitor showing the 1987 movie on a loop next to him.

"HI, I'M LAURENCE FISHBURNE.  I'LL BE RANDOMLY
TURNING UP IN YOUR MOVIE TODAY"  

Antal’s flat direction provides neither horror nor thrills.  The characters aren’t memorable, likable or interesting (the legendary Danny Tejio’s part gets cut into near non-existence). And, in the most predictable of all its faults, there’s not nearly enough gore.  The only bold move it makes is in the casting of Adrien Brody as the lead.  But his one-note performance simply results in the character being your standard cut-and-paste beefcake protagonist; the other out-there casting choice, Topher Grace, sticks out like florescent green blood on a rainforest leaf. 

*SIGH*  HELLO, OLD FRIEND...

One other way we viewers are conned is that we were led to believe that this flick would feature humans facing off with several predators.  The trailer’s money shot is Brody’s littered with dozens of three-dotted laser sights, and the movie’s very name is a plural.  If Predators had followed through with this promise, then it could have been something new and entertaining.  Instead, there are only three or four predators, and never all together, so what we’re left with is a group of humans setting traps and facing off with one alien beast at a time.  Just like in – that's right! – the original Predator. 

DON'T THINK ANYONE FORESAW THIS WHEN WATCHING THE PIANIST

I’m reminded of 2009's excellent District 9, which managed to be highly reminiscent of Aliens, The Fly and Robocop but still felt like something completely new.  Artists can’t help being influenced by and, indeed, stealing from their idols – the difference is if you have something personal to say and stay true to that then you will produce something original.  The only thing Predators has to say is: “Hey, you liked the other film.  This is same same same!  But now now now! So give us your mooooooooney!”

Ugh, I suddenly feel my dinner repeating on me…  *

Winter's Bone (2010)

Starring: Jennifer Lawrence, 
John Hawkes, Garret Dillahunt, 

Directed by: Debra Granik

Written by: Debra Granik, 
Anne Rosellini

Duration: 1hr 40mins

Rating: 4 out of 5

Children bounce on a squeaky trampoline.  A dog runs wild amongst rusty farm machinery. A teenage girl hangs laundry on a packed line, squinting against the cold wind and keeping a wary eye on the kids.  Her pretty but hardened features peer out attentively from layers of coat and hood, her blonde locks blowing in the breeze.

CAN'T IMAGINE WHAT THEY PUT ON THE TOURISM PAMPHLETS

This is a bleak place: sparse, run-down, poor; nothing grows here. Dead leaves crack under foot, neighbouring properties are separated by barbed wire, not white picket.  It’s also a female place: the men are nowhere to be seen, especially in this household, where seventeen-year-old Ree (Jennifer Lawrence) has been left in charge of her little brother and sister by her mother’s debilitating depression and her father’s on-going absence.  Her dignity and resilience are plain to see – “Don’t ask for what should be offered,” she chastises her siblings, after turning down a charitable advance.  

LAWRENCE: BY FAR THE NICEST SCENERY ON SHOW

When we finally meet a male, more than five minutes in, he brings trouble.  A police car is not a welcome presence in these parts and, sure enough, Garret Dillahunt’s sheriff bears bad news.  Ree’s father has been arrested for cooking crystal meth and has put the family home up as bail.  If he fails to turn up for his trial in a week’s time (a close to forgone conclusion), the state gets the house.  So begins Ree’s journey into finding her drug-peddling pops, turning over a succession of rocks to find increasingly unpleasant creatures underneath who  consistently deliver one  clear message: “You need to turn around, and get yourself home.”

NOT EXACTLY A WELCOMING BUNCH

Debra Granik’s adaptation of Daniel Woodrell's 2006 novel takes place in America’s desolate Ozark mountain country, and the setting is a character in its own right.  Winter’s Bone is at its core a horror movie, a social realism slasher flick; the enemy here isn’t some bogeyman, but the community itself.  Ree encounters drug addicts, wife-beaters, social miscreants and the sinister gang who rule the area more than anyone with a badge, and a sense of dread builds as she heads towards a dénouement that even offers its own gruesome ‘eeugh!’ moment.  The rural backdrop brings to mind the backwoods killers sub-genre – and indeed, Dillahunt was murderous Krug in the (surprisingly solid) Last House on the Left remake.

YOU CAN ALWAYS DEPEND ON THE KINDNESS OF FAMILY...

Far from adding a distracting Hollywood sheen to a supposedly down-to-Earth tale, Lawrence’s wholesome good looks are actually an asset to the role.  This is a girl who, in another life, could have been homecoming queen, head cheerleader, all that apple pie stuff.  (This concept is portrayed most vividly by the casting of Sheryl Lee in a cameo – Lee, of course, played the ultimate all-American girl gone wrong archetype in Twin Peaks.)  Ree has been molded into something much tougher and more resourceful by the very monster that she now fights against: her environment.  She is a scream queen who goes about her business quietly, a pin-up concealed under a duffel jacket; Ripley without the aliens, Laurie Strode with no Michael Myers.  To describe her as a feminist icon would not be an overstatement.  Winter’s Bone was 2010’s big indie hit and Lawrence, in an Oscar-nominated performance, its breakout star.  With next year’s The Hunger Games threatening to be the new Twilight, Lawrence may soon be a huge star – and on this evidence, she would deserve it.

“YOU WAS WARNED...  YOU WAS WARNED  BUT YOU 

WOULDN'T LISTEN.  WHY WOULDN'T YOU LISTEN?"

Also worth mentioning is the movie’s sole helpful male, John Hawkes’ uncle Teardrop (and even he is rarely without his nose in a mound of cocaine, or merrily offering his stash to a repulsed Ree), who ends up guiding his young niece into the underworld and even rescuing her at one point.  It took me a while to work out where I knew Hawkes from, then I clocked that he played scrawny Pete Bottoms, Liquor Store Clerk, in From Dusk Till Dawn (“I never said ‘Help us!’”).  Also recognised by the Academy, Hawkes delivers a grubbily nuanced performance that channels a young Harry Dean Stanton, ensuring that Winter’s Bone is more than just a one-woman show. Recommended.  ****

The Hangover Part II (2011)

Starring: Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms, 
Zach Galifianakis, Ken Jeong

Directed by: Todd Phillips

Written by: Todd Phillips, 
Scot Armstrong, Craig Mazin 

Duration:  1hr 42mins

Rating: 2 out of 5

AND AT LEAST THEY HAD THE
DECENCY TO ADD TIM CURRY

Like many people, I went to see The Hangover in 2009 and had a great time.  Then I caught it again on DVD, and found it significantly less funny.  Still an original idea well executed, but definitely not the comedy masterpiece its reputation would have you believe.

Fast forward two years, and after sitting through the dreadful Hangover Part II I left the cinema with no intention of even granting it a second viewing.

It’s the most shamelessly fast-tracked, flat-packed sequel since Home Alone 2: Lost in New York, and the most blatant excuse for a cast and crew to have a paid exotic holiday since Ocean’s Twelve.

When it comes to sequels, the best follow a successful formula to give us more of what we liked before whilst still moving the story and characters on – the first two Terminators and the Ghostbusters films spring to mind.

NO WAIT, IT IS DIFFERENT:  I FORGOT
ABOUT GALIFIANAKIS'  SHAVED HEAD

Others, like the specimen we have here, are just lazy cash-ins.  The screenplay is a real  find/replace affair: Vegas/Bangkok; groom/bride’s brother; baby/monkey; missing tooth/tattoo; prostitute/transvestite stripper.  That’s when it’s not just copying the story beats from the original wholesale: Phil's ‘I’m sorry’ phone call opening; Alan drugging the group; the final act sequence of high speed chase to wedding, followed by Stu finally standing up for himself, followed by the group looking over dodgy photos from the night before,

JUSTIN BARTHA: MIFFED TO WIN THE AWARD FOR
"MOST REDUNDANT SEQUEL RETURN OF ALL TIME"

None of this would be a problem if there were some funny jokes, but there aren't. Instead it just tenuously rolls out Mr. Chow again so Ken Jeong can do his same old zany shtick, and relies on predictable crudity and racial stereotypes with no wit or imagination (they’re in Bangkok… how long before a ladyboy gag? Yawn).  Worse still is the pace: a race-against-time film like this needs some urgency and sense of momentum, but the film feels bleary and sluggish – the kind of hangover where you don’t want to get out of bed, not the energetic and exasperatingly funny type that the first movie managed to nail in its strongest moments.  In fact at times The Hangover Part II is actually pretty boring, lumbering as it does from one contrived scene to the next.  And you know you’re in trouble when having Paul Giamatti turn up in your movie actually makes it worse.

Bradley Cooper delivers his usual asshole screen persona, Ed Helms is the wimpy one again, and as for Zach Galifianakis… why are we supposed to like this Alan character?  Because he’s petulant and childish?  Because he’s fat and has a beard?  Because he uses the word ‘retard’, and improbably pronounces it wrong?  It’s a mystery to me.

"WE HAD A SICK NIGHT, BITCHES!"

Dubbing the movie ‘part two’ is one of Todd Phillips and company's worst crimes – if they'd called it The Hangover Again (or rather, Hungover Again), then all concerned could have made a joke out of it being exactly the same as the first one, the same shit happening to the same guys twice. Then maybe, maybe it could have worked in a self-aware, so-bad-it’s-good way.  As it stands, I feel cheated by all concerned, and in my mind Phillips has relegated himself from a serious challenger to Judd Apatow to nothing but a cynical hack.  When the inevitable third entry lurches around, I don't reckon I'll bother with it at all.  **1/2