Not fit to lick the boots of Martin Scorsese or Christopher Nolan, though the height of its ambition appears to be its desperation to do so. A movie as pathetically ineffectual as its protagonist.
This rushed sequel is an insult to its progenitor movie. A cheap knockoff that doesn’t understand what made Bad Moms so smart, funny, and feminist-wise.
Hangover lite, with even more tepid notions of what constitutes debauchery, plus a true dedication to strained contrivance.
A comedy only in the bleakest way, satire only in the sense that the whole world has become a parody of itself. Appalling and amusing in equal measure.
Actual unretouched phrases that people plugged into search engines this week that led them to this site (with some commentary from me):
It’s like they realized they never should have made a sequel, so for Part III, they didn’t even bother to make a Hangover movie at all…
Because you’ll probably find yourself in the middle of an earthquake apocalypse. Cuz that happens.
I’m really tired of this Hangover shit.
If you didn’t know that Jack Kerouac’s novel was a seminal influence on postwar America, you would never, ever guess it from this lifeless, soulless, pointless adaptation.
Should we get Judi Dench into a Fast & Furious movie? Ian McKellen into Alvin & the Chipmunks? Marion Cotillard into a Hangover flick? How about a new Rush Hour movie starring Will Smith and Doona Bae?