Film Review: The Hangover

Make no mistake, The Hangover - surprise hit of the US summer and number one in both UK and Australia – is one of the funniest movies you will see this year. Put any reservations you may have, or any preconceptions of an Apatow-esque bloke flick, aside – sliding into cinemas without significant fanfare, The Hangover is funnier, pacier, slicker and overall more refreshing than the trailer, premise or rave reviews would suggest. 

A groom’s night in Vegas goes expectedly awry (there is no other type of groom’s night in Vegas) when the three groomsmen wake up in their trashed Caesar’s Palace villa with a tiger in the bathroom, a baby in the closet and no sign of the groom. Cue an ensuing farce during which the repulsively hungover groomsmen have to track back through a twelve hour period of which they have utterly no recollection (you find out why and it’s a suitably hilarious reveal) in order to find out, among various inexplicable things, where Doug, the groom, has gone and why they are now in possession of a police car.

It is, of course, full of the expected bloke flick stalwarts; masturbation, semen, condom and butt jokes abound, there’s a marriage to a sweet, ditzy stripper (Heather Graham) and the stock characters are all there; hot bastard (Bradley Cooper), repressed nerd in a controlling relationship (Ed Helms) – his slow unravel is spectacularly done throughout the film - the sweet, affable groom (Justin Bartha) and the slow, socially inappropriate tubby one (Zach Galifianakis) who has some of the film’s best lines.

But my God what they do with the stalwarts and stock characters is, at times, comic perfection. Bradley Cooper breaks free of the perpetual sidekick role that, bar one or two films, seems to have plagued his career, and is ably matched by Ed Helms and Zach Galifianakis. The chemistry between the three fuels the film, riding off the back of a fresh and incredibly funny script. Despite inhabiting characters we’ve all seen before, there’s an originality to each of their performances that makes this movie one of the freshest and funniest since the Apatow clan dethroned the Ferrell crew. But, unlike the recent Apatow films that feel like all of the boys are getting the chance to film their personal vehicles with mixed results, The Hangover doesn’t feel like the same old material simply handled by a different curly haired actor.

There’s also the requisite Chinese villain who wears, at one point, perhaps the best outfit a requisite Chinese villain has ever worn. Keep your eyes peeled for white linen trousers, a cream turtleneck and Cuban heeled boots. Police station scenes, a Mike Tyson cameo, a brilliant blackjack scene and road trip scenes making the most of both the sweeping Nevada desert and the crackling dynamic between the three lead actors all provide memorable moments – but to my mind, it was the perfectly spaced resurfacing memories that explain various, seemingly inexplicable, parts of their predicament, that keep the film fizzing along at its perfect pace.

The film avoids being too pat, or too cliché, by never trying to be anything that it isn’t. There are no forced resolutions, no unnecessary revelations – it is both a witty and hilariously slapstick ride that uses its actors and the surreal setting of the city of sin, beautifully.

Seriously, see it.

Directed by: Todd Phillips