The Hangover Part III represents the final stages of a drunken party. If Part I was the crazy fun; Part II represents the stage when the laughter begins slowly dissolves into nausea; then Part III is only the morning headache. Todd Phillips cruises this third act past the finish line, but not before dumping all its creative assets during an earlier lap. Part III forgets to incorporate all of its winning elements, save for a mid-ending credits sequence that will either make you appreciate the bonus Easter Egg or walk away in disdain by what could have been.
Phillips and his THREE co-writers deserve only a modicum of credit for not repeating the plot once again — a sin already committed in the first sequel. However, though the second installment lacked creativity, it, nevertheless, achieved its share of belly laughs and amusing quandaries for our trio of saps (Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms and Zack Galifianakis). By omitting another roofie mishap and a unconscious night of crimes, cardinal sins against humanity, broken teeth, tattoos, and sodomy, Part III loses any justification for its own existence.
We know we’re in for trouble early when Alan’s father dies into a sequence that’s robbed of humor for many reasons — the first being that it’s so poorly shot that you can barely understand it. The follow-up funeral has an amusing reveal, but it once again hindered by inept film-making. There’s also a trifle turn of events that involves a giraffe, which is so clearly CGI (the last film grossed $250 million! Use a real animal, WB!!) that the dark comic turn is undermined by lack of believability.
The final plot surrounds Mr. Chow (Ken Jeong), the lurid, crazed, Asian drug kingpin from earlier installments, who rips off $20 million in gold bars from crime lord “Marshall” (John Goodman, earning easy pay here). Because Chow was pen-pals with Alan (Galifianakis) “Marshall” blackmails Alan and co by kidnapping the their pal, Doug (Justin Bartha), and holding his life ransom unless they can track down Chow and retrieve the gold. Still with me?
The plot focuses on Chow’s nefarious, crude exploits and his Jar-Jar Binks pain-level Asian accent. Whenever Jeong isn’t chewing at scenes, it’s Galifianakis’s show…clearly. The comedy doesn’t stem from the trio’s insane situation, but from Alan’s inability to understand anything. Galifiankis plays Alan so stupid that Phil and Stu would be better suited to simply drop him off in the desert and speed away. Instead, Cooper and Helms are restricted to exchanging bemused glances while Galifiankis attempts to carry the movie merely on his character’s ineptitude.
The first Hangover became a fan-favorite because it concocted a wondrous mix of suspense and comedy. The Hangover Part III loses itself by trying to push a ridiculous plot that lacks danger and completely forgets the comedy that should flow naturally from the absurdity of the plot. As our three “heroes” pursue Mr. Chow, the film attempts to arrange moments of danger, which fail. Doug, who once again bows out early, is the sole reason that the trio chase Chow from Tijuana all the way back to Vegas, where nothing remotely dazzling happens other than an embarrassing moment when Alan and Phil tie bed sheets together (always a bad choice) and climb down the rooftop of Caesar’s Palace. It’s a moment that attempts to manufacture suspense out what should be an easily descent. Did I mention NONE of it is funny?
The film goes further in its infinite list of mistakes by trying to ingrain some emotion. There’s a ridiculous romance between Alan and a pawn shop owner, Cassie (Melissa McCarthy). Galifiankis falls back on cliches such as bumping into items repeatedly while being spellbound in love. He does it twice, because repeated jokes always get funnier on the second round. Right? This is as amusing as the film gets!
I hated The Hangover Part III. I loathed the very audacity of it! The idea that supposedly brilliant comedic filmmakers attempted to conjure a movie out of nothing. There is not one singular moment (other than the “F-You” end-credits scene) that replicated the fun of its predecessors. Instead, it takes our stars and deprives two of them of having any worth other than insuring Helms and Cooper will earn the easiest, fattest paycheck since Marlon Brando made Superman. Galifiankis takes center stage with hijinks’s so lazy, so unfunny, so awful that the comedian’s stock can only crumble from this embarrassment. I’m over my hangover. Heed my prescription and avoid at all costs. Taking two aspirin before and after is insufficient medicine to numb this pain.
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