The Hangover is one hell of a movie. The movie that combines marrying a lady of the night, losing a teeth and stealing Mike Tyson’s tiger with that funny chap Zach Galifianakis turned out much better than alright. It’s one of those productions that makes me want to drink more. In Vegas.
A remake in Bangkok is coming in May – a bachelor brunch turned to what reappearing villain Chow calls: a sick night. The baby from the first film is replaced by a monkey, and I’m tempted to say “hilarity ensues”, but I won’t.
When a monkey nibbles on a weenus, it’s funny in any language. That’s probably the quote that sums up the level of humor, and I don’t say that in a pejorative way. So here are three reasons to watch The Hangover Part II.
- If you’ve ever been out for a regular night on the town in Bangkok, it’s hard to imagine what a stag night would be like, so director Todd Phillips has done it for you. After all, one night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble. Not much between despair and ecstasy.
- It stars a hairy funnyman and a funny monkey. Two hirsute hilarity-mongers for the price of one movie ticket.
- It might be better than watching the first one again. Which is a pretty awesome prospect.
So yes, I haven’t seen the movie yet. But the trailer looks good – applying the same blackout misadventure theme to a new location – it’s like not going back to your local pub for a pint of Stella when you can have a bottle of Beer Chang and get into different trouble somewhere else.
The irreverent treatment of drug, alcohol and heck, people abuse is a refreshing change from movies where the heroes give up alcohol to better themselves. And it speaks to all of us who haven’t been to rehab but have been to Thailand.
Having regained consciousness once after an unplanned bout with Rohypnol in Malaysia of all places, and having no idea where my friend Joe was, I can relate to the plot for the first film. Having to leave the median of an unknown highway, fend off a transvestite and walk to a store and ask the shop keeper which way it was to the town I was staying in were character building experiences that had started off with an innocent trip to a karaoke bar.
Thailand has similar stories for the wayward drinker – waking up on a beach having lost your companions, or having to help pick a lock for someone you found hiding naked in your closet so that they may retrieve their clothes – that’s pretty much what happens when blend cocktails of Thai whiskey, Thai red bull, and the English abroad. And I’m just a regular type of guy, not some party animal middle-aged frat-tard looking for trouble. Honest.
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