That sequels abuse and exploit and sully and cheapen is really no surprise — I mean, it’s the second rule we learn in Amateur Critic Kindergarten, right after “M. Night Shyamalan is a one-hit wonder.” But like many things, this first-principles generalization must encompass a broad swath of quality across a fat Gaussian distribution of film-going second helpings. Some sequels are truly great (Terminator 2, Godfather Part II, etc.). Some make the right efforts, but feel somehow flat (22 Jump Street). A sad few try to reconstruct every single plot-point and punchline from the original to ill effect (The Hangover: Part II).
And some just take a wild, smoldering dump on their own legacy.
Guess which kind Hot Tub Time Machine 2 is.
I truly love the original Hot Tub Time Machine. I’ve seen it dozens of times. It’s a crazy, heartfelt, satirical and hilarious throwback take on the 80s ski film genre. Great pacing. And it has John Cusack.
The sequel drops Cusack (or more likely the other way around) and focuses on Lou Dorchin (Rob Corddry), Nick Webber (Craig Robinson), and Jacob (Clark Duke) whose lives took a turn at the end of the first film.
I’ll now do something I don’t normally do, and show you the trailer. Go ahead, watch it.
Believe it or not, this trailer considerably improves upon the actual film. Not only does it contain pretty much every good joke, but it also makes a lot more sense by hinting at a semi-sensible story. The real movie isn’t about this. They don’t go to every decade for fun. The real movie is some weird future murder mystery, kind of. And where the original was sharp, this one fizzles. It’s hard to satirize a future that doesn’t exist. (And to the extent it’s possible, it’s probably not done with exploding scrotum sacks.)
This sequel is a sad, drawn out, hollow poopie-pot full of mad grasps at whatever made the first one so popular (which apparently surprised director Steve Pink as much as everyone else). He resorts to bald re-use of the same exact jokes (“I love you man!” “Don’t say that!”). There’s a terminator-style self-driving car that no one in the entire cinema found funny in any of its several scenes. It’s all bad news.
If you slouch around looking to draw the last cold, stale puffs of comedy from discarded cigar butts like some cinephile Benjamin Graham, fine. There are jokes here. But with so many fat, rich, fresh new cigars available FOR THE SAME PRICE, this argument doesn’t really make sense at all and you shouldn’t see this. Whew. Glad we sorted that out.
If you love Hot Tub Time Machine, forget you ever saw an ad for this. Imagine your favorite characters doing just about anything else.
Haus Verdict: Dung, sadly. Comes off like moderate-budget fan fiction, but it’s worse. A money grab that takes a giant dump on everything great about the original. Avoid very hard.
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