From front to back, The Hangover Part II is one big calculation. It seems to have run every single aspect of the first movie through a series of algorithms to determine just how much different — and how very, very, similar — the sequel should be to retain a target audience with no patience for new material, no taste for a new adventure and no desire to see a different movie than the one they paid to see in 2009.
There’s been a lot of talk this weekend about what kind of comedy Bridesmaids is — who it’s for, what it’s trying to do. Most of the buzz I’ve heard revolves around the comedy non-revelation that, holy shit, girls can be funny too, and look at these funny girls who are already millionaires for being funny be so funny even though girls are never funny. It’s ridiculous. And although I understand why comparisons will be drawn, over and over, to the “guy versions” of Bridesmaids, I really wish they didn’t have to be. Because Bridesmaids is, objectively, a fucking terrific comedy, independent of the gender discussions that people who watch and truly care about comedy know are complete bullshit. I wish there were more unqualified good reviews of this movie, reviews that talk about how many of the jokes are brilliant, how many characters and relationships are believable and how many performances are spot-on, and just leave it at that. But instead those compliments are buried under a headline of “Against All Odds” and it undermines a lot of true praise for the film. 
Seven and a half months and 30 films ago, I began a mission to watch all the best comedies my sheltered childhood, lack of cable, and pop-culture cluelessness had prevented me from seeing until now. I think it’s safe to say I’ve accomplished my goal, in some measure. Not that I’ve seen every comedy, or even every great comedy, but I think I can safely say I’ve seen the same funny movies any healthy kid of my generation can reasonably be expected to have seen. Of course there are countless films I still have yet to see in order to consider myself any kind of authority on comedy films, but I’m getting to the point where when I mention to someone that I'm a comedy writer and director, I no longer worry they’ll ask me to differentiate Venkman from Spengler. Not sure who would ever ask me to do that.
The first half of the 90s was a fertile ground for comedies that exploited the popularity not just of a single comedian, but of a specific character — or type of character — portrayed by a single comedian; Carrey’s mugging wise-ass, Farley’s sweaty manchild, Sandler’s violent manchild. There was a big rash of these films, all clumped up together in the Nirvana years, a byproduct of the tonal shift in comedic film as comedies with big concepts gave way to the trend of popular comedians in a series of more or less interchangeable situations. Ghostbusters without proton packs and Zuul wouldn’t be Ghostbusters, but if Tommy Boy involved textiles instead of auto parts, or Ace Ventura were a houseplant detective, they’d be pretty much the same movies. Those films were and still are about the comedians in them. And few comedians represent that tiny, bizarre era in comedy better than Pauly Shore, a guy who created a character that could never conceivably exist outside of his time.
If it gives you any idea how inside-out my movie viewing track record was as a child, the only Dudley Moore movie I had ever seen until this week was 1988's Santa Claus: The Movie. You know, the one where candy canes make you fly for some reason. Oh, you don’t remember that? Neither does anyone else.
The cadets who constitute the leading characters in Police Academy share many characteristics. They all have a lot going against them. They’re underachievers, weirdos, fuck-ups. They break or refuse to accept or are ignorant of most of the rules, and they are each at times obnoxious, incompetent and one-dimensional. But in spite of their many and consistent failures, they smile and struggle and goof around anyway and just barely sort of succeed on their own merits by the end of the movie.
As The Finally Screenings have shifted from comedies that are at the top of classic-comedy lists to films that are found on more obscure or specific charts, I suppose it’s inevitable that there would be a higher proportion of films that I wouldn’t necessarily think to describe as comedies, per se. Light-hearted, fanciful, bizarre, stylish or satirical, maybe, but not funny-ha-ha. 1977’s Slap Shot is a perfect example, a film whose darker and more dramatic elements outweigh the laughs to a genre-stretching degree.
The 80s were a great time to be a kid. High-concept comedies and sci-fi movies, loud, parent-maddening music, classic video games and cable TV. Compared to other decades, kids’ entertainment was unabashedly childish, insane, colorful, loud and ridiculous. Now that plopping your kids in front of the TV for hours on end while you do something else is sort of frowned upon, children’s entertainment has been forced to appeal, with widely varying success, to parents as well as kids, spawning a tiny amount of the best entertainment in the industry (Pixar, I’m looking at you) and a truckload of the very worst (insert your favorite squeakuel here). Gone are the days when an episode of He-Man had the exact plot a 6-year-old would have written if given the chance (and one anyone over 12 would never in a million years understand). Gone are the days when a show called Ghostbusters and a totally different, unrelated show called The Real Ghostbusters could both exist simultaneously and none of the viewership have a problem with it. Kid’s entertainment now is too researched, too deliberate. Too controlled by adult sensibilities.
Growing up, I didn’t realize there was an entire subgenre of movies dedicated to reminiscing about high school. I especially didn’t realize that there was an entire subgenre inside that subgenre dedicated to doing drugs and having sex in high school. The former never made sense to me because I didn’t do anything in high school worth reminiscing about, and the latter made even less sense for reasons that are probably obvious at this point.
This week, I watched Bill Murray's Quick Change. It's a movie I had barely heard of before having it recommended to me, but man — it's fantastic.
I guess I just never got Pee-Wee Herman. As a kid his show kind of creeped me out. I didn't and still don't really get what's funny about him. The idea of a wide-eyed, unflappably optimistic kid in a grown-up's body, overcoming all obstacles with his infectiously silly energy, is a great bit in theory, but in execution I think Pee-Wee always rang false (and, as I said, a little terrifying) to me. I think for a bit like that to hold up, you need to commit to the character in a way Pee-Wee just never did. There was always something external, something dark and cynical about it that undermined what seemed to be the whole point of the character. And maybe the cynicism is part of the character, too, but I think that only works if there's something else going on — some element of satire or subversion, or another character to act as a counterpoint. Or at least a straight man.
One of the most popular movie suggestions people have for me when they hear I’m writing this column is Airplane!, and I can't blame them for suggesting it. Airplane! is just like a lot of the movies I didn’t see as I kid — it’s racy, low-brow, full of double entendres, only rated PG because PG-13 hadn’t been invented yet — exactly the kind of movie that I wasn’t allowed to watch. I actually have seen it, though, but I remember it being right on the edge of what my tiny sheltered brain could understand as a child. I particularly remember being scarred for life by that scene where a woman vomits an egg with a live bird inside. 
Normally for this column I watch a comedy many people have told me to see, but this week I did something a little different — I watched a comedy just one person has told me to see on a number of occasions. He’s got a good sense of humor, so I knew it wouldn’t be a total waste of time. Plus, I figured if I liked it, this column would help him evangelize it vicariously through me, and if I didn’t like it, I could publicly shame his questionable taste in movies.
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An Encyclopedic Guide to the Best Callbacks, Running Jokes and Hidden Gags in the New Season of 'Arrested Development'
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