The Hangover: Too Old To Really Care

I'm going to make this one a quick one I think...such is my mindset today and the extent to which I care to comment on the latest comedy that proves that comedy is not a one-man show (cough, cough, Judd Apatow, cough), THE HANGOVER.

Now the hangover is, oh my god, like, so an American road-movie-cum-mancom, it's, like, so weird. Directed by a Todd (dude), written by a Jon (rad) and a Scott (gnarly), and starring Brad, Ed, Zach and Justin (yeah...way), it might as well be screened on the back of a Yankees jersey and open for Lynyrd Skynard.

But it isn't. It is, hold thy breath, a movie. Not a frat party, a movie, and a decent enough one at that. It isn't, I don't think, deserving of the four stars it has received widely across the board, more like a three or three and a half, but it is certainly watchable, and preferable definitely to a lot of the other run-of-the-mill high-jinks comedies released so far this year (see 'Paul Blart: Mall Cop', 'Observe and Report', 'Bride Wars' etc...).

It is a very bright, very beautiful film, helped greatly by the natural Nevada sunlight that makes everything and everyone look unbearably attractive, and features some very funny moments, as well as some less funny and far more predictable ones.

You probably know the story already; three incredibly hungover men scour Las Vegas for their missing best friend, and the groom, the day after a triumphant bachelor party. What stands in their way, though, is there own amnesia, as none of them can recall anything from the night before.

The themes (self-realisation, coming-of-age, proving of worth etc...) are familiar, and the crass and slapstick humour reminiscent of every stoner or teen film ever made. Men fall over, men get hit in the balls, men with silly accents call people "mother-fuckers" and tell them to "lick my Chinese balls". And notice the prevalence of the word "men" in these sentences. What role do women play in this film? None whatsoever I'm afraid. The only female part with more than a handful of lines is Jade, played by Heather Graham; a stripper with a heart of gold and who opens the eyes of the straight-laced and under-the-thumb Stu. Of course she does.

So be under no illusions that this is a man's film; made by men for men. Well, boys. It's not really for men, it's for teenage boys and stoned students, and I don't care who says otherwise, it's still not as good as Knocked Up or Superbad, or even I Love You, Man. It doesn't have the heart, the crushingly sharp dialogue, the charisma of most of these films. Not close. It harks back a little to Swingers, my favourite film of all time and a truly original piece of work, in its male camaraderie and love of Vegas. But it lacks so much of what made Swingers great; the romance, the emotional development, the satire.

To summarise, The Hangover is a film that is watchable, yes, but not memorable. One that has the strength to push forwards, but not the guts. I, for one, need not a scene in which the film's heroes steal Mike Tyson's tiger, pretend to hump it, and then vomit on a stolen police car's bonnet. That, for me is a step too far...backwards.