*** Hot Tub Time Machine (2010)As far as guilty pleasures go, I'm not sure how far this one would rank. Not because I didn't enjoy it (which I did) but because at no point did I feel guilty for watching it. It takes a certain amount of chutzpah to make a movie about a hot tub time machine, release it under the name Hot Tub Time Machine, and have a character utter the phrase, "It must be some kind of...hot tub time machine," while staring deadpan at the camera. Chutzpah that merits admiration, not shame.
If the plot wasn't conspicuous enough in its wonderfully worded title, perhaps this brief synopsis will bring one up to speed: four friends gather together for a weekend getaway on a ski resort, get plastered, and hop into a hot tub that magically transports them back to the 80s. A setup like the one mentioned needs no apology. Even the mysterious origin of the hot tub time machine is cheerfully overlooked - an inconsequential detail that no one in the film cares to explain. And really, do we need an explanation of how it works? It's a f****** hot tub time machine!
Despite its seemingly vacuous appeal, however, the film is not without brains and is surprisingly sharp in its own inane off-the-wall way. A running dilemma throughout the movie is whether or not each character chooses to recreate the events that happened in 1986, thereby curbing the ripples of the "the butterfly effect" (Rob Corddry's eyes bulging when he exclaims, "that was a f****** awesome movie!" is just one of the many reasons why this is his breakout vehicle). The problem with re-living the past, however, is that nobody wants to go back to the dreary humdrum existence they lived before their vault on a hot tub DeLorean. There's a bit of Groundhog Day at play here that's subtly wedged in between the vomit takes and sex gags. Infusing meaning into existence with the power of choice? Kierkegaard would've been proud.
All philosophical digressions aside, the film is zealously raunchy, at times witty and never short on tongue-in-cheek. Do watch if in the mood to veg out on a Saturday night and giggle/laugh out loud/be shocked in disgust, depending on your sense of humor and level of sophistication. I'm proud to say that I still enjoy a good projectile spewing, especially when it obliterates small rodent creatures.
