Take a Drink: anytime you wonder where the fuck John Cusack is. Take Two: whenever you can’t blame him for taking a hard pass on this.
Take a Drink: for every idea, song, or technology the gang rips off and passes as their own.
Do a Shot: whenever the focus is on Rob Corddry’s codpiece.
Take a Sip: anytime you hear a “you look like” joke or Terminator/Fringe reference.
Take a Drink: every time Lou flickers or the gang sings the nerd song.
Do a Shot: for every literal dick shot (at least 2) and Hot Tub 2 joke.
Shotgun a Beer: when the gang makes America happen.
By: Felix Felicis (Four Beers) –
Never has the universe conspired more to try and make me miss writing up a movie and after watching Hot Tub Time Machine 2 I can’t say that I blame it. Homie was trying to do me a solid. From being snowed in to my home for three days and a frozen pipe bursting at my local theater forcing me to scramble twenty minutes away to a shittier theater where motherfuckers didn’t even sell hot dogs THIS IS AMERICA NO I DON’T WANT TO BUY YOUR FUCKING WEIRD ASS POTATO DUMPLING, ASSHOLES, one might say I was already primed for disappointment. And Hot Tub Time Machine 2 served up piping hot regret better than my mom can serve up backhanded judgement at holidays and family dinners.
Hot Tub Time Machine 2 follows 3/4 of the gang from the first film (John Cusack is referenced but never seen onscreen past a photo splash) with Rob Corrdry (Lou), Craig Robinson (Nick), and Clark Duke (Jacob) reprising their roles, adding in newcomer Adam Scott (Adam Jr.) later on to fill in Cusack’s slot as his son. The trio starts the film off living la vida loca riding that time-traveling high and reaping the benefits of ripping off every lucrative idea anyone ever had and passing it off as their own. Shenanigans and time-traveling hijinks ensue when someone shoots Lou in the dick… I repeat, in the dick, and they hop in the hot tub to save his life, winding up ten years in the future (year 2025) to find out their lives didn’t pan out quite like they expected. Chasing down a killer from the future, killer future cars, and figuring out just where it all went wrong (starting with whoever greenlit this movie), the boys learn absolutely nothing but somehow still end up on top. So fuck my life they win because I watched all two hours of it.
The first time I saw Hot Tub Time Machine in theaters I was “meh” and didn’t really get all the fuss. Watching it a few times over, it grew on me to the point where I actually really dug its insane, balls-to-the-wall ridiculousness. So when I got the opportunity to interview (we talk about poop way more than normal people) Rob Corddry himself about his webisode series Wedlock (awesome, check it out) and he gave me the chance to ask one, just one, burning question I had about Hot Tub Time Machine 2 I was not prepared because I thought he’d be cagey as fuck about it. So, naturally, I asked him what underwear he’d be wearing, if any, in the film and his answer was that his wardrobe would CHANGE LIVES. I highly doubt that, but I respect the fuck outta that man’s willingness to rock some nuthuggers and a codpiece like he promised.
I liked the actors in the film as actors and they seemed to be having fun with the material, gelling with each other naturally and with good chemistry so I can’t fault them there. Plus, there was one really catchy tune that they sang, the nerd song, that made me chuckle every time I heard it. Other than that, Hot Tub Time Machine 2 was a mediocre shitshow designed to literally make you dumber leaving the theater than when you walked in.
Ever have a really great first date and they call you again only to have the second date wind up with one of you chained in a basement seriously regretting some of your life choices? C’mon. Just me? Fine. The stupidity of Hot Tub Time Machine worked because, much like picking a one-night-stand at the bar, you didn’t look too hard at WHY you were doing it. It’s a hot tub. That’s a time machine. You get drunk, spill some Russian energy drinks on it and it takes you on a magical tour through time. Roll credits.
Hot Tub Time Machine 2 actually tried to explain, using pop culture references and only-makes-sense-if-you’re-high science, about how they can travel through time instead of focusing less on dick jokes and more on actual comedy. The film was rife with holes about the continuity of time-travel and sucked all the fun out of the ridiculous premise by actually trying to explain it. Not even a return cameo by hot tub repairman Chevy could Chase away my blues.
The humor in Hot Tub Time Machine 2 is gonna kill in the bro/stoner/teen demographic while the rest us are fucked (and not in the fun way). Sure, the first film was irreverent and vulgar and hilarious because it hit just the right balance between those two elements. Hot Tub Time Machine 2, however, is a dull hammer nailing home repetitive joke after repetitive joke until you take the straw from your bucket of soda and jam it in your eye socket to dull the pain.
I’m convinced they rounded up a herd of wild ferrets fed nothing but Corona and episodes of Jersey Shore to write the script because the level of stupidity is off the Richter scale despite the return of original director Steve Pink and screenwriter Josh Heald (who co-wrote the original but clearly can’t be trusted on his own because he wrote this fecal fuckwittery SOLO). Hot Tub Time Machine 2 is a bait-and-switch of cheap tricks and offensive, knockoff humor. Rent it and get hammered if you have to, but I recommend saving your money and splurging on that tandem onesie you’ve had your eye on since surfing Craigslist. Such a better investment.
Aggressively mediocre in the worst way, Hot Tub Time Machine 2 was especially disappointing in it’s tonal inconsistencies. The original film bounced between crazy highjinks and heartfelt moments with ease due to the self-aware absurdity of the script, but the sequel lacks everything that the first film succeeded with; leaving you with a disjointed movie interspersed with abrupt cuts between ludicrous shenanigans, simulated sexual assault, and blips of “genuine” character connection. I say “genuine” because it was about as believable as when I break up with a guy because I’m allergic to his face.
Fresh off the horrifyingly bad, face-meltingly terrible experience that was 50 Shades, I can’t even be that mad at Hot Tub Time Machine 2. I’m just disappointed. It’s a forgettable, lackluster follow-up to an original gut-buster, Hot Tub Time Machine, that went out with a whimper instead of a bang. Though if you’re dying to overpay for stale popcorn and cop a feel in public, go see Kingsman: The Secret Service because that slick little action flick has tongue-in-cheek Bond barbs and razor-sharp wit. Trust me, I’m a *doctor (*highly-functioning alcoholic with daddy issues).
Hot Tub Time Machine 2 is what happens when Frat guys trip and fall into a vat of deep-fried Budweiser and are shown Back To The Future on a loop Clockwork Orange-style; pull a John Cusack and take a hard pass on this one.