Corporate-Financed Party Porn

The knives will be out for Project X and it’s easy to see why. It’s easy to hate and even easier to critique, with its offenses against intellectual discourse easily quantifiable. The humor is deliberately low, and the protagonists aspire only to the kind of Tucker Maxian drunk bronerism that anyone who fancies themselves socially conscious will tell you is vapid and empty. Not only does it flunk the Bechdel test, it practically compliments the examiner on her tits and asks for a sandwich afterwards (I can not WAIT for the Jezebel review, or for Ebert inevitably high-horsing its dangerous glorification of binge drinking, for that matter). It plays like the porniest, most exploitative (though less hipstery) American Apparel ad you’ve ever seen, adapted to a 90-minute movie as directed by James Adomian’s version of Dov Charney. But while the sexism is undeniable, the attempts at comedy dumb and predictable, and the pandering blatant, there’s an overwhelming nihilism to the whole enterprise that I found simply delicious. I like that everything about it is bad for you. It’s dumb, over-sexed, derivative, and unrealistic, but almost gets by on panache alone. It’s bad and decadent and overproduced, but oddly charming, like a Def Leppard record.

Ten minutes in, I was ready to hate it too. The plot is more or less lifted straight from Superbad (whose plot was not exactly revolutionary itself), with leads Thomas Mann and Oliver Cooper like meaner, less charismatic versions of Michael Cera and Jonah Hill, who call each other “faggot” and constantly express the desire to get their dicks wet (a line that actually comes straight out of Todd Phillips’ 1998 documentary Frat House). Jonathan Daniel Brown plays their fatter, nerdier whipping boy, bearing the brunt of obvious whale and diabetes jokes. Worse, it’s a “found-footage” movie. Mann’s parents are going out of town on his birthday (sidenote: really?) and the kids’ plan is to throw a party big enough that it will finally propel them to regional infamy and endless teen pussy. Mann’s parents give them free reign of the house, partly because Mann’s dad secretly doesn’t think his son is cool enough to even get people to come to a party. “He’s… a loser, honey,” Mann’s dad tells his wife sadly, the perfect combination of dumbed-down, on-the-nose, and trite.

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It blows my mind that Matthew Broderick released a teaser for commercial (A TEASER FOR A F*CKING COMMERCIAL!) in which he reprises his role as Ferris Bueller sorta, and it actually succeeded in getting people excited. Honda released the Todd Phillips-directed spot online (which you can watch blow), and now both “Matthew Broderick” and “Ferris Bueller” are trending topics on Twitter. Because when a B-list actor makes an elaborate attempt to simply remind you of a film we all saw 25 years ago, the internet goes crazy for it, even if it was just a transparent attempt to sell you minivans. God I hate my generation.

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You might remember that early last year, I told you about a film Todd Phillips was making before Hangover 2, a smaller-budgeted ($12 million) “hard-R” raunchy comedy starring a cast of unknowns (all first-timers) directed by commercial director Nima Nourizadeh (with Phillips “closely overseeing”). Well now the trailer is finally here, and even though it steals the title of one my favorite Matthew Broderick chimp dramas of the 80s, it does have lots of scantily clad teens, which I enjoy. Plus, it’s very nostalgic. My high school experience was exactly like this, except instead of sex-filled pool parties, we hung out at Taco Bell and made potato guns and never got laid ever.

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Todd Phillips has just about reached that “I can do whatever the f*ck I want” stage in his career [which, strangely, seems to involve banging lazy-eyed herp factory Paris Hilton -Vince], what with even his sequels raking in more than half a billion dollars, and now it looks like he’s found his next project in a Rolling Stone article. Phillips has optioned the rights to a Guy Lawson  article (“The Stoner Arms Dealers”), about two potheads who somehow became weapons traffickers, thanks the government’s love of dishing out big bucks to small contractors.

Who knew it was that easy?

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Watching The Hangover Part II, it’s easy to see why intellectuals would hate Todd Phillips.  It’s an unnecessary sequel, half the jokes rely on outrageousness and nudity, there’s a monkey sidekick, gay panic jokes, stock characters galore, Thai scenery straight of the It’s-a-Small-World-After-All book of national stereotypes, and the whole enterprise is imbued with that Entouragey sense of boys being boys that snoots love to despise**. The reason Todd Phillips is a genius, however, is that even with the hackiest, most idiot-pandering setup in the world, he can still deliver a punchline that only the smarmiest of uptight dickweeds would refuse to laugh at.  Yes, monkey sidekicks are almost as overused a trope as amnesia, BUT OH MY GOD, IS THAT MONKEY WEARING A MINIATURE MOTORCYCLE HELMET WITH A BANANA ON IT?! I THINK I LOVE YOU, MOTORCYCLE MONKEY COKE-MULE!

The second installment moves the action from Vegas (one exec actually passed on the first Hangover when Phillips wouldn’t call it “What Happens in Vegas”) to Thailand, where dorky dentist Ed Helms is set to marry possibly cross-eyed, too-hot-and-young-for-him Jamie Chung (Sucker Punch), much to the chagrin of his future father-in-law, a disapproving Asian caricature (YOU BLING SHAME TO FAMIRRY, ROUND EYE!).  Before you know it, Helms and the boys have woken up in Bangkok not knowing how they got there (“It happened again!”), with a tattoo on Helms’ face and his 16-year-old brother-in-law Teddy (Stanford pre-med, cellist, apple of his father’s eye, played by Ang Lee’s son, Mason) missing. The setting is an upgrade, as is the Macguffin, the only clue as to Teddy’s whereabouts being his severed finger.  “Give it up, Bangkok has him now,” everyone tells them.  Whereas the foundation for the wackiness of the first Hangover was a yuppie who might not make it to his wedding, this time around, there’s an actual edge, a heart of darkness vibe that gives it more depth than just DUDE BRO WE HAD SUCH A CRAZY NIGHT DOZER PUNCHED A COP IT WAS SICK.

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