Bros! Dust off your dicks and go pick up Spinach from the emergency room in Chopstick’s mom’s Benz! Unstrap your 40 hands and cancel the charity slave auction, because the Hangover 3 has a trailer! You fags better sack up and watch it right now. We didn’t haze Baloney Pete to death last spring after Anchor Slosh for you to act like a bunch of pussies! I’m serious, bro, the actives are pissed.

This time around, there’s no weddings or bachelor parties, the Wolfbros are just back in Vegas to burn it to the ground, just like fat Steve when he got us disinvited to Tri-Delt’s Robin Hood party and fingerblasted that Persian skank dressed like Will Scarlett. Ken Jeong’s back again too, even though those dudes barely knew him and this seems like a crazy coincidence. And he’s acting all crazy and causing trouble again, like Gay Malaysian Steve when he fell through the skylight at Pike Tequila Formal. I told you bros we shoulda dinged that guy, but did anyone listen? No. Anyway, remember when Snotrocket’s cousin got us that mini potbelly pig and we named him Beefcake and those Pi Phi sluts painted his hoofs pink? This is just like that, except Ken Jeong has a pet turkey or some sh*t and Alan buys a giraffe. F*cking crazy, right?! It’s like where do they even sell giraffes. First a tiger, then a monkey, now a hawk and a giraffe. It’s like they’ve got the Entourage bros writing this or something. By the way, Potato’s cousin swears he got to second base with Adrien Grenier’s sister in middle school, but he’s also the biggest coke dealer in Tucson so take that with a grain of salt. Oh wait, IMDB says it’s written by Craig Mazin, that douche from the movie with the fattie. Whatever. Anyway, I’m stoked Heather Graham is back for this one. One time Skidmark caught me knocking one out to Roller Girl after Cinco De Chi-O and he tried to get pissed but I was like “flip-flop under the door, bro, do not disturb” and he couldn’t say sh*t. Anyway, this is gonna be so sick. We should mix up a batch of grandma’s and get butthoused before we go.

These days, Brad Cooper is a world-famous, preposterously handsome actor nominated for best actor at this Sunday’s Oscars for his work running around in a garbage bag in Silver Linings Playbook. But back in 1999, he was just a fresh-faced, preposterously handsome, 24-year-old with a Hugh Grant haircut studying at the actor’s studio. Sean Penn was in the studio, and young Mr. Cooper even got to ask him a question. A very actor-y question:

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After his incendiary interviews with Christoph Waltz, Jennifer Lawrence, Anne Hathaway, and Amy Adams yesterday, Zach Galifianakis is back between two ferns with Jessica Chastain, Sally Field, and Brad Cooper. I won’t ruin any of the lines in this edition for you this time, but suffice to say, they’re pretty good. By the way, I refuse to call Brad Cooper “Bradley.” You’re already ridiculously rich and charming and handsome, you don’t get to act like your name’s not Brad by lengthening it. Your name is Brad, Brad. It’s not my job to enforce your artistic affectations.

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Drive had Ryan Gosling, acclaimed indie director Nicholas Winding Refn, it-girl (I still don’t really know what that means, but it seems accurate) Carey Mulligan, and vroomy-vroom vroom getaway cars. Place Beyond the Pines has Baby Goose, acclaimed indie derektor Derek Cianfrance (Blue Valentine), it-girl Eva Mendes (Goose’s real-life special lady!), and reer-reer dirtbikes. Once again, Baby Goose plays a stunt driver turned getaway driver. Only this time, Bradley Cooper is there for a handsome-off. THE RUGGED VULNERABILITY, IT’S TOO MUCH! (*sirens, alarm bells*)

Official synopsis:

Luke (Academy Award nominee Ryan Gosling) is in constant motion, a high-wire motorcycle stunt performer who travels from town to town with the carnival. Passing through Schenectady in upstate New York, he tries to reconnect with a former lover, Romina (Eva Mendes), only to learn that she has in his absence given birth to their son Jason. Luke resolves to forsake life on the road and to provide for his newfound family, taking a job as car mechanic with Robin (Ben Mendelsohn). Robin soon discovers Luke’s special talents, and proposes to partner with him in a string of spectacular bank robberies. But it is only a matter of time before Luke will run up against the law – which comes in the form of Avery Cross (Bradley Cooper).
 
Avery is an ambitious rookie cop navigating a local police department ruled by the menacingly corrupt detective Deluca (Ray Liotta). When Avery, just beginning to balance his profession and his family life with wife Jennifer (Rose Byrne) and their infant son AJ, confronts Luke, the full consequences will reverberate into the next generation. It is then that the two sons, Jason (Dane DeHaan) and AJ (Emory Cohen), must face their fateful, shared legacy.

Good lord that is a wordy synopsis. Wait, this cop, is he corrupt? Oh yes, he’s menacingly corrupt! He growls when I bribe him, GRRRR! Anyway, this looks eerily similar to Drive, but without the awkward, too-long stares and almost total lack of dialog. Which is too bad, I was really hoping for a scene where Baby Goose and Brad Cooper exchange sizzling looks until one of them gets a boner. No shame in that, by the way, they both have beautiful eyes.

I’m one of the biggest David O. Russell apologists you’ll ever meet. I will go to my grave defending I Heart Huckabees, and I was trying to put my finger on exactly what it is that I like so much about his movies despite the many, easily-made arguments to the contrary. My first thought was: how many other filmmakers could make your traditional two-attractive-white-people-fall-in-love rom-com, and still have you leaving the theater thinking, “God, what an odd film.” That’s what David O. Russell does with Silver Linings Playbook.

It helps some that the two attractive white people in question are Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence, and I don’t think it’s too strong to say that I’d pay $500 to watch them f*ck. Still, getting me to want to watch them almost kiss for two hours requires a somewhat more skilled hand.

We open with Bradley Cooper’s character being released from a mental institution. An “undiagnosed bipolar,” he’s obsessed with his estranged wife, whose affair with a history teacher sent Cooper to the phunny pharm in the first place when he caught them in the act and beat the guy half to death, not to mention gave him a permanent crazy trigger in the form of “My Cherie Amour,” the song that was playing while they were screwing. He wakes up his parents (played by Jacki Weaver and Robert DeNiro) in the middle of the night to scream about Hemingway (he’s trying to read every book on his wife’s high school English class syllabus) and runs around the neighborhood wearing a shopping bag as a poncho “to help him sweat.” Now, I can tell you that there are few things I’d less rather watch than some Hollywood pretty boy with three-day stubble on his chiseled jaw and a tiny scar on his perfect nose battling some whitewashed version of mental illness that makes insanity look cute and quirky. And this from the director who got his start on a movie about a guy who f*cks his own mother with the title a masturbation reference?

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