Hey, everyone. Capone in Chicago here.
Sometimes you admire a comedy because of its subtle wit and cleverness, because it keeps a sustained smile on your face that lasts the duration of the film. Other times, you fall head over heals for a comedy because it is balls-out the perfect combination of stupidity and intelligence, with a healthy serving of charm thrown in and a dash of the grotesque. Welcome to HOT TUB TIME MACHINE, folks, a movie that almost dares you not to giggle your way into a frothy stupor. What put this film over the top for me was its complete and utter disregard not only for conventional logic and sensibility, but the film actually bothers to set up its own time-space continuum rules and then breaks them with a wanton disregard for the Butterfly Effect. On the plus side, TIME COP's essential rule about the same person from two different times occupying the same space is cited and dealt with quite effectively. But for God's sake, this isn't a movie about science; it's about partying '80s style, and who better to do that with than John Cusack?
First off, let's take a look at HOT TUB TIME MACHINE's genealogy. Director Steve Pink was a co-writer of two of Cusack's best post-brat pack works, GROSSE POINTE BLANK and HIGH FIDELITY. He also directed the underrated college comedy ACCEPTED. His history with Cusack clearly works to our advantage here, since the one-time Hoops McCann, Bryce from SIXTEEN CANDLES, and Lloyd Dobler seems willing and comfortable embracing and mocking his '80s past for the first time ever. At one point, I'm pretty sure the younger version of the HOT TUB character Adam is wearing a familiar-looking trench coat. The screening play is credit to newcomer Josh Heald, Sean Anders (writer of this week's SHE'S OUT OF MY LEAGUE and writer-director of SEX DRIVE), and John Morris (also a co-writer of LEAGUE and SEX DRIVE). What I loved about the screenplay is that it meshes the debauchery with actual lessons about standing up for yourself, friendship, and following you dreams without getting lost in any level of sentimental nonsense.
But HOT TUB TIME MACHINE is a selfish creature, one that only truly cares about you if you're laughing, and so it goes out of its way and mind to make sure you're doing just that. The story is about three guys who have been friends since high school--Cusack's Adam; Craig Robinson as the responsible, married Nick; and Rob Corddry as party deviant Lou. I need to say that this is the first film where Corddry knocks it the fuck out of the park. This is as much an on-screen breakthrough for him as Zach Galifianakis' turn in THE HANGOVER, although this is a very different character. I've endured him being wasted in movie after movie since he left “The Daily Show,” often reduced to overacting and yelling as a substitute for actual humor. But as adult-slacker Lou, Corddry hits his stride and plays him with a perfect balance of abandon and utter control of his gifts as a comic actor. I certainly don't mean to leave out the Robinson, who is the portrait of restraint and underplaying his part for maximum effect. He's so good here, you almost miss it. Nick is always concerned about cheating on his wife, but when the guys realize that in order not to mess up the continuum, they have to do exactly what they did in the '80s, he remembers that he got laid. Oh, the angst and guilt!
But I'm getting ahead of myself. The “story” of HOT TUB TIME MACHINE involves the three friends deciding--after Lou may or may not have attempted to kill himself--that they need to revisit the old ski lodge where they used to party in high school. Today, the place is a rundown pit, but in the '80s, the place was hopping. They are forced to drag Adam's nerdy nephew Jacob (the effortlessly funny Clark Duke, also from SEX DRIVE and the upcoming KICK-ASS) along with them, and although the lodge is a mess, Lou decides that some booze, drugs, and hookers will fix that right up. They decide to warm up the hot tub on the back porch, and after a night of heavy partying, a weird alcoholic concoction is spilled into the controls, which some how turns this hot tub into a spinning, wormhole-opening vortex that sends them back to a very specific date in the 1980s, one that featured events that forever changed their worlds and paved the way for their dissatisfied lives.
As a longtime John Cusack fan, I have to say how pleased I was to see cut loose a little and acknowledge the era that made him a star. I like the idea that the people in the ‘80s see these four travelers as they were at the time and now how they look today. Well, except for Clark Duke’s character, who wasn’t even born when these events took place, but whose very existence seems to somehow hinge on the events that occurred on that fateful weekend. But don’t think about it too hard or it might hurt your brain. The details aren’t important here.
There are some nice running side gags that keep HOT TUB flowing, such as Crispin Glover as the angry, one-armed bellhop in the present (and happy two-armed bellhop in the past). His character is one big, funny waiting game. I also liked Lizzy Kaplan as a music journalist at the resort, there to cover a Poison performance, who runs into Adam. (Sidenote: I have never been more willing to listen to a soundtrack that consists almost entirely of Poison and Motley Crue tunes.) The two click, but since they never met in the past, Adam is pretty sure he shouldn’t be spending time with her. Instead, he and other guys focus on recreating events of the past. The things is, straying from what has already happened is just too much fun. Chevy Chase is tossed into the mix as the hot tub repairman, who seems to know how to fix it and get the boys back to the present day.
What had me rolling almost from the first time jaunt is that HOT TUB TIME MACHINE sets up certain rules and parameters, and then seems to say, “Fuck it! Let’s do what makes us drunk and gives us boners!” Despite its many differences, the movie has a similar cavalier attitude about time travel that the BILL & TED movies did. The film turns idiotic behavior into an art form, foulness into an asset, and debauchery into an Olympic sport. If you’re not having fun while you’re watching this movie, please call your physician immediately and have that pole removed from your ass. It’s so much fun watching this group of actors simply give themselves over to the ridiculousness of it all; and I readily and happily did the same.
HOT TUB TIME MACHINE opens March 26.
-- Capone
capone@aintitcool.com
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