MOVIE REVIEW | Serena Donadoni

Despite everything that's been poured into this steaming vat, the only ingredient in Hot Tub Time Machine that's fully cooked is its male malaise, which drives three estranged fortysomethings (and a twentysomething tag-along) to a ski lodge retreat and the chance to relive their glory days with the benefit of hindsight. This head spinning mash-up tries to be many things, but as a gross-out comedy, it's never truly vile (although not for a lack of trying), as a 1980s spoof, it lacks the goofy charm of The Wedding Singer, and its time travel mechanics make the DeLorean of Back to the Future look like it was built by Stephen Hawking.

Hot Tub Time Machine is escapism fueled by desperation, and humor derived from pain makes even the silliest of circumstances more profound. When these four men immerse themselves in the suspiciously gold-colored water of their hot tub, it's clear that misery loves company. Disappointment runs through their lives, from the thwarted ambitions of Nick (Craig Robinson), who traded music for marriage and ended up a dog groomer, to the perpetual romantic implosions suffered by Adam (John Cusack), who can't inspire his nephew Jacob (Clark Duke) to abandon his online Second Life for actual social interactions.

Then there's their rageaholic friend Lou (Rob Corddry), whose desperate Firebird breathing has brought them together for a bittersweet weekend of bonding, drinking, and a surprisingly vivid trip down memory lane's slippery slope. As they imbibe a host of potentially toxic beverages, the conversation gets more animated, and director Steve Pink begins spinning that hot tub like a DJ who's not only getting the party started, but preparing to remix their fates. His whirling camera captures some truly odd sightings (including a partygoer in a bear costume) that seem to bubble up from their collective unconscious.

Waking up after their night of binge drinking, the once depressed men feel strangely invincible and take to the Kodiak Valley slopes only to find themselves skiing straight into the neon hedonism of Winterfest 1986, and a rebooted version of their adolescence. This is where the fast-paced, fuzzy logic of screenwriters Josh Heald, Sean Anders and John Morris is both its wittiest and messiest. When the ecstatic Lou calls for embracing free love, Adam reminds him that the teens of the 1980s got Reagan and AIDS instead. But as for getting back to their own future, confusion is the order of the day.

Any movie titled Hot Tub Time Machine really shouldn't involve too much thought, but having the characters vacillate between reenacting their actions no matter how much they may regret them, and opting to change pitiable adult lives via their wised-up teenage selves, muddles the humor. Instead of sticking to one option, they slide back and forth willy-nilly, dulling the momentum with indecision. Steve Pink, co-writer with Cusack of High Fidelity and Grosse Pointe Blank, takes these sloppy seconds and makes a surprisingly assured directorial debut by focusing on the emotional lives of his men to boys.

Which doesn't mean skimping on the sight gags. Pink manages to turn the cringe worthy circumstance of anticipating a dismemberment into a series of hilarious slapstick sequences that show off the physical comedy skills of a gleeful Crispin Glover, who looks like he's having a blast. (Perhaps it's the novelty of finally playing a normal guy: the eager to please bellhop at the Silver Peaks Lodge.) Seeing actors from 1980s movies like Cusack and Glover, along with William Zabka (The Karate Kid) as a mustachioed gambler, only adds to the movie's retro humor (mostly involving idiosyncratic fashion choices).

What becomes painfully clear is how little these guys have grown up since that winter when they were 17 and everything seemed possible. In a different movie, Nick's guilt over a 1986 redo with a groupie, even though he suspects his 2010 wife Courtney (Kellee Stewart) of infidelity, would have been an actual moral dilemma. In Hot Tub Time Machine, it results in one of the most inappropriate drunk dialing incidents imaginable. Even that pales next to what develops between the already loutish Lou (nicknamed The Violator) and Adam's sister Kelly (Collette Wolfe), which her future son Jacob is none too happy to witness.

While things get weird and weirder for his friends, Adam wanders off into, of all things, a John Cusack movie. He begins by reconsidering whether he should have broken off his relationship with the bubbly Jenny (Lyndsy Fonseca), the elusive "great white buffalo" of first love. But after meeting the smart, sassy Spin writer April (Lizzy Caplan), the adult Adam lets his man-child speak freely to a sympathetic ear, and the whole crazy adventure begins to make some sort of sense. Needless to say, the weekend shows all these men, even the resentful and stifled Jacob, what they need and should have had.

Hot Tub Time Machine concludes with the kind of wish fulfillment fantasy that has heretofore been reserved for the most emotionally manipulative of chick flicks. All the macho posturing and blatant homophobia displayed during their time tripping reveals a deep-seated desire for domesticity and relationship longevity that's as strong (if not stronger) than the need for professional success and status, reminding these dissatisfied Peter Pans how much they need a good Wendy. Women start off as trophies, but become a stabilizing force — the only sure thing in an unstable world — as in many a 1980s romantic comedy.

Here's the biggest question in a movie built around them: Why isn't Hot Tub Time Machine a full-on parody of the culture (or at least the movies) that the characters revisit? The filmmakers never fully dive in, but continually dip their toes into the satirical waters. The hysterical response of a 1986 ski patrol bully obsessed with Red Dawn to a 2010 energy drink known as the Russian Red Bull is the funniest fusion of two worlds. It's precisely the kind of comic myopia — the time travelers must be Soviet spies! — that defines the 1980s on so many levels, and this one sharp moment reveals the double-edged sword of nostalgia.

© 2010, Serena Donadoni. All rights reserved.

Director: Steve Pink | Writers: Josh Heald and Sean Anders & John Morris, from a story by Josh Heald | Cinematography: Jack Green | Music: Christophe Beck | Production Design: Bob Ziembicki | Costume Design: Dayna Pink | Editing: George Folsey Jr and James Thomas | Producers: John Cusack, Grace Loh, and Matt Moore | Released by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and United Artists | Running time: 93 minutes | Rated R

Cast: John Cusack (Adam), Rob Corddry (Lou), Craig Robinson (Nick), Clark Duke (Jacob), Crispin Glover (Phil), Collette Wolfe (Kelly), Lizzy Caplan (April), Kellee Stewart (Courtney), Lyndsy Fonseca (Jenny), Sebastian Stan (Blaine), William Zabka (Rick Steelman), Jake Rose (Adam at 17), Brook Bennet (Lou at 17), Aliu Oyofo (Nick at 17), and Chevy Chase (Repair Man).