Hot Tub Time Machine 2 review: a terminally boring sequel
The franchise that never should produces a film that just can’t
Bewildered audience members were seen to visibly age during Hot Tub Time Machine 2
Film Title: Hot Tub Time Machine 2
Director: Steve Pink
Starring: Rob Corddry, Craig Robinson, Clark Duke
Running Time: 93 min
If we were paid-up subscribers to angry-god-brand old-time religion, we’d say it had to be divine retribution. How else did it come to pass that a 2010 comedy that failed to turn any sizable profit has yielded an even crummier, entirely laugh-free sequel? Let’s do some sums, shall we? Hot Tub Time Machine cost $36 million (production budget) plus somewhere between $50 and $100 million marketing spend. It took $64,572,262 worldwide. Huh? Do those numbers say “franchise potential” to you?
Anyways, when last we left our intrepid time-travellers, they had a high concept and too few laughs but they did at least have John Cusack among them. HTTM2 can only manage the less famous ones, an even briefer Chevy Chase cameo than first time around, and gay panic in lieu of jokes. We say panic: we mean something between hysteria and medical symptoms including chest pain, shortness of breath, sweaty palms, arm numbness, and asking, how far is the nearest A&E?
When the appalling Lou (Corddry), the unlikeable Nick (Robinson) and the horrid Jacob (Duke) journey into the future in search of the person who killed present Lou with a gunshot to the crotch (ho ho), they find themselves stuck in a world of killer cars, bare-breasted women (but of course) and no means of return to their old lives.
This temporary hiccup does at least call time on the endless “jokes” about stealing future inventions: Lou is the founder of search engine Lougle, Nick has ripped off hit songs from Nirvana and Lisa Loeb (who cameos, bless her). Without the flogging of that particular dead horse, we’re left with enlarged bursting testicles, Adam Scott – playing John Cusack’s son – on an acid trip, and a future game show wherein Nick is required to rape BF Lou.
Take heart, LGBTQ brethren: you don’t come off nearly as badly as the film’s braindead, scaldy straight women.
Man-worship and dated gross-out gags can’t elevate the material above the terminally boring. Who knew?