Tub sequel goes down plughole
Back in 2010, a zany comedy featuring one genuine star (John Cusack) and a Back to the Futureesque concept surprised many by becoming a hit with audiences and critics alike.
A sequel to Hot Tub Time Machine was pretty inevitable, then, but the ensuing five years haven’t been kind to the cast – none of whom has done anything as good since – and Cusack decided he wasn’t up for a return trip.
Director Steve Pink and writer Josh Heald are back on board, though, along with original co-leads Rob Corddry (Lou), Craig Robinson (Nick) and Clark Duke ( Jacob).
Predictably, instead of going back in time, the lads are sent forward 10 years after Lou is the victim of an assassination attempt, where they meet the son of John Cusack’s character, Adam Jr (played by Adam Scott).
Name-checking TV show Fringe and other movies like Terminator and Looper isn’t enough to explain, or make up for, the unnecessarily confusing alternate timeline chat our lead trio do their best to work with.
Focusing on a dull whodunnit – more of a who cares? – plot strand is another story misstep made by Heald, who sacrifices the banter and simplistic scenarios of the first flick for a more dark, caustic tone.
This mean spirit is never more clear than the change in Corddry’s character, with Lou moving from likeable, wisecracking imbecile to acidic, selfish moron (“Life is about number one”).
Robinson and Duke fare slightly better, the former as close as the sequel gets to a moral compass and the latter getting most of the best lines as Lou’s put-upon offspring.
There’s little doubt, however, that’s there a Cusack-size hole in proceedings, one that Scott – a manic drug trip apart – is unable to fill adequately as he’s saddled with a grating dullard more interested in getting to his wedding in one piece (think Doug in The Hangover with more screen time).
As with the first movie, the best laughs come courtesy of completely random, insane sequences, a game show hosted by Christian Slater, and improvised slagging matches between the leads.
But even these face-offs feel a little forced,