Where’s Cartman?
Not a question one would expect to be asking twenty minutes into a movie that is neither animated nor inclined to refer to “South Park” in any direct manner. But there it was popping out of my mouth instead of laughter at a recent viewing of “Hot Tub Time Machine.”

“Hot Tub Time Machine” is one of those star-crossed films that have stumbled upon a delightfully evocative title (“Snakes on a Plane” is another one) but lack the creative firepower to back it up.

The story is a thrift shop of pre-worn plot devices. Three middle-aged men stuck in unhappy lives, Adam (John Cusack), Lou (Rob Corddry), and Nick (Craig Robinson), grab Adam’s nerdy nephew, Jacob (Clark Duke), and head off to a ski resort where they used to sow wild oats when they were young. The place, like them, has fallen on hard times, but that night they get drunk in the hot tub and are magically transported back to 1986. After a series of tepid sight gags about portable tape players and three-pound cell phones, they realize that they are reliving one of the more memorable weekends of their youth. Like Marty McFly (“Back to the Future”) before them, our heroes are terrified by the possible consequences of messing with the space/time continuum and try to relive the weekend as best they can recall it. They don’t have much luck. Adam finally meets a terrific woman and Nick can’t stop himself from calling up his unfaithful wife and ripping into her—except that, at this moment in time, she’s nine years old.

Aside from Chevy Chase appearing as a mysterious hot-tub repairman (remember “Pleasantville”?), that’s pretty much the story. That and a string of jokes based on just about (how can I say this in a family newspaper?) every bodily effluent that can come out of a human being—or dog for that matter.

Our chuckily creators of “Hot Tub Time Machine” seem to think that poop and semen jokes are a surefire ticket for hilarity but I don’t think even one of today’s eight-year-olds would agree with them. Maybe back in the repressed nineteen fifties potty humor triggered some primal psychic release. But in this post “South Park” world, the culture is sufficiently vulgarized that there’s actually a quality bar that has to be cleared. Just ask Cartman.

“South Park” has found the secret for leaving you completely appalled and laughing helplessly at the same time, and I think that secret is Cartman. Oddly round and morally obtuse, Cartman has the personality, the voice, and the comic timing required to sneak a laugh out of grossness.

But “Hot Tub Time Machine” doesn’t have Cartman; it has John Cusack and Cusack isn’t morally obtuse, he’s morally perplexed. He is fast-talking, angst-driven, and can riff on razor sharp dialogue like few actors working today. He just doesn’t need vomit to slam a joke home.

If the creators of “Hot Tub Time Machine” had built the film around Cusack, think of the film they might have created. Possibly “The Big Lebowski” with wrinkly skin. Instead they are wobbling a couple of notches above “Corky Romano.”

In its defense, there are a few earned laughs in “Hot Tub Time Machine.” Jacob doesn’t know who his father is but, doing the math, guesses he might have been conceived on this weekend. When he finds he mother in bed with Lou, he lunges at him, interrupting their lovemaking and immediately winks out of existence. Cartman would have approved.

Directed by Steve Pink
Rated R
* (One star)