The Hangover: Part III - Review

Pinhead has a new friend to play with in the bellows of franchise hell because THE HANGOVER has now joined firmly next to HELLRAISER as one of the absolute worst series ever to plague the art of film. There is absolutely nothing of worth to the human soul with THE HANGOVER: PART III. After realizing that you can't get fully away with duplicating your past success for a second installment, the creators instead crafted a new tale that will have everyone begging for more cloned mediocrity. I didn't laugh, smirk, grin, or even eye-roll; I was too busy being utterly shocked at how spellbindingly awful the picture achieves with ease. It's the equivalent of being kicked in the groin and then asked to shake your hand.


There is a very distinct reason why this film has been advertised solely as PART III and not THE HANGOVER: PART III: There is no hangover whatsoever. There is an intermediate scene during the credits that may say otherwise but it feels like an afterthought, has multiple elements that betray the formula developed in the other two films, and is there for plain fan service and a last laugh that doesn't exist. Instead of more consequences of debauchery, the viewer has to sit through a glorified television episode of a series that I hope doesn't come into fruition, even on Spike. Alan (Zach Galifianakis) commits several unhinged, spoiled rich boy antics that literally help cause his father's death, most notably the accidental beheading of a CGI giraffe on a major highway. The rest of the Wolfpack, Phil (Bradley Cooper), Stuart (Ed Helms), and Doug (Justin Bartha), agree with their spouses and other family members that Alan should be sent to the New Horizons rehab facility to change his lifestyle and to get him back on his meds. During the trip there, they are run off the road and kidnapped by Marshall (John Goodman), a nondescript kingpin who wants them to find the returning psycho Leslie Chow (Ken Jeong) for him. If they can capture Chow and the $20 million dollars worth of gold bars he stole from him, Marshall will let Doug walk away without any bullets to the head.


It is never, never addressed why a major thug should want a metro douchebag, a self-destroying dentist, and a walking contradiction to find two valuable objectives instead of say a crew of highly trained individuals from a private company. Nor is it questioned why Marshall couldn't start finding the lost gold during Chow's prison stay in Bangkok in-between the second and third film, or have several prison insiders to get him to squeal. Instead, he blackmails the Wolfpack like a desperate movie executive to find his money merely because Alan and Chow have a childish and cryptic conversation exchange. Worst yet, any fan with the lowest intelligence can notice that the story and main hook of these films has de-evolved to a significant degree. The free-roam exploration aspects of the series are excised and the search is now entirely linear: Chow tells them to meet him in Tijuana, chaos happens, and then it moves to Las Vegas.


The humor displayed here by the ever-eroding Todd Phillips is more about exclamation points than any sense of truth. His comedy gold book consists of random food placement (Tab!, Arby's!, Sabaro!, Papa Johns!), random song placements ("Hurt" sure is funny in a whacky Asian accent!) and oft-putting snide comments by the mischievous ones (Chow and Alan). In fact, the film is devoted only to those two characters, with Alan being our main figure and focus. Phillips knows that audiences enjoy having the comic relief moved to the center stage; that's why CARS 2 and PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: ON STRANGER TIDES are the best of their series. While Galifianakis gets all the attention, whether he wants to or not, that leaves Cooper and Helms to basically slum it out in the background. Thankfully, both actors have a transparent face, showing the discomfort they have for accepting their roles again. Cooper wisely sums the film up when he turns to Helms and says, "What the fuck am I watching?".


The film must of cost a lot of money yet none of it shows on the screen besides the opening prison riot. The sets are all very limited, one being so much so that the makers had destructive strobe lights pulse constantly to hide the shortcomings. All of the female characters have only three scenes, except for Jaime Chung who has one scene, one line. Everything feels too nice and clean; Justin Bartha is kept perfectly fine throughout his hostage ordeal because he needs to get back to The New Normal set in one piece. There's no tigers, monkeys, face tattoos, incriminating pictures and video, stolen police cars, or another Mike Tyson cameo. They have "In the Air Tonight" play during credits and a couple of callbacks, so those must make up for all of the film's impenetrable void, right?


When I get to the third and final film of a trilogy, I shouldn't be confused as to who "Black Doug" is or the fact that Cooper's character has a wife. The first film is genuinely hilarious and even those who were not amused at least had a crafty and cartoonish mystery to solve. However, this endnote ruins the legacy of the movie that helped keep R-rated comedies alive. It deserves to die.



FINAL REVIEW: 1 / 5