Some unlucky bastards rue the sins of male celebratory debauchery in
The Hangover, a bachelor-party film that really doesn’t focus on
the party itself. Director Todd Phillips and his perfect cast are more
interested in the penalties of unbridled pre-wedding behavior—and
how extreme, balls-out partying can eventually lead to a punch in the
face from Mike Tyson.

Phillips is no stranger to the art of misbehaving males. His Road
Trip and Old School were hilariously introspective looks at
guys behaving like assholes with the help of intoxicants and bare
female breasts. Yet, as sophomoric and politically incorrect as those
films were, they were nothing but primers for what unfolds in this
latest ode to misbehaving Neanderthals. This sucker is the granddaddy
of party films.

But I mentioned before, we never really see the party. With a couple
of days to spare before their friend’s wedding, four guys head for Las
Vegas and intend to have the time of their lives. We see them on top of
a hotel doing shots of Jägermeister and toasting the social crimes
that are about to commence. Then we see them waking up.

Stu (Ed Helms) the pussy-whipped dentist, is missing a tooth and
wearing a wedding ring. Alan (Zach Galifianakis) the group oddball,
spies a tiger in the bathroom when he’s taking a piss. Phil (Bradley
Cooper), the resident ladies’ man, is wearing a hospital tag. But all
of these problems are lightweight compared to the main dilemma: Doug
(Justin Bartha), the groom-to-be, is missing.

The trio (with a baby they found in the closet) can’t remember
anything about the night before, and must retrace their steps in an
effort to retrieve their lost friend. This leads them to the wedding
chapel where Stu married a sweet hooker (Heather Graham), a
confrontation with gun-wielding thugs and, yes, Mike Tyson, the
proprietor of the tiger in their suite.

The material here is the sort of stuff that could result in
direct-to-video trash if placed in the wrong hands. Luckily, Phillips
is a trash master, and his actors are capable and willing garbage men.
They elevate the proceedings to something genuinely hilarious.

Cooper, so good as the baddie in Wedding Crashers, is
flawless as the troop leader. While he is playing the straight man
here, he injects just that right touch of mischief to make Phil as
funny as the dummies surrounding him. Helms represents the wild man in
every reserved person; once Stu gets some drug-laced Jäger in his
system, all bets are off.

But the man you will hear the most about is Galifianakis, a bearded
comedic genius. The demented stand-up comic has made blessed
appearances in cult comedy programs like Tim and Eric Awesome Show,
Great Job! and Wonder Showzen, and his work here should
qualify him as a “bankable comedic star,” as long as the material
allows him to be subversive and more than a little weird. Galifianakis
knows weird, and he knows it well.

This is one of those movies where you’ll find yourself laughing at
taboo humor (like a baby getting hit with a car door). Some things are
so shocking that there is no choice but to laugh. Sure, the laughter is
tainted by a touch of guilt, but that’s part of the fun.

There’s already talk of a sequel, and I’m curious where things could
possibly go from Vegas. My vote is for a male-bonding camping trip or a
European trek. I only hope that the premise they come up with will
provide another chance to see Mike Tyson punching Galifianakis in the
face, because that will never get old.

This article appears in Jun 11-17, 2009.