The sequel to the kind of popular Harold and Kumar go to White Castle follows the story of the titular characters right from where the first movie ended. They are going to Amsterdam to find Maria because Harold can’t wait ten days to see her again.
But things go wrong when, on the plane, Kumar tries to smoke weed in his newest invention: the smokeless bong. But when he leaves the bathroom door open, the crazy old lady cries terrorist, thinking he was lighting a bomb. And when he tries to explain it, everyone hears bomb instead of bong.
So they wind up at Guantanamo Bay based on this evidence. Rob Corddry of the Daily Show plays a retardedly hard-ass FBI agent who plays everything based on racial stereotypes. And I’m talking about stereotypes. There’s one point where he tries to get a black guy to talk by pouring a grape soda on the ground. These scenes, I was unsure whether to cringe or laugh. But I chose to laugh.
The movie spends very little time at Gitmo, and opts more to spend time in the South trying to get to Texas where they are trying to find someone close to President Bush whose son they know. Which is what allowed for them to throw in some new jokes instead of those already thrown out in the first movie. They get to rail on southerners.
But don’t get me wrong. There are the winks to the first film and riffs from it, but nothing so outstanding that it becomes frustrating.
Which was definitely surprising. The material of this film is mostly new. The scenes with NPH were just as disturbing. The cameo by the president (that was not an impersonator.) also was a laugh producing scenes. In fact, most of the scenes in this movie are rife with laughter if your sense of humor is in line with the pot, fart, and sex jokes that this movie throws out.
Also surprising were the anti-racist contexts throughout the movie. This stoner-film–maybe accidentally–has a message through Rob Corddry’s character as well as a few others. The racial stereotypes speak for themselves and are funny as well. I really enjoyed this “deeper” (I don’t know if I really can call it that for a film like this) element of the film.
The funniest moment in this movie came, though, as a result of where I saw it. Currently, I am residing in Arcata, California, which is a small town with lots of marijuana smokers. Blame the college, I suppose. So when, in one scene, a guy tears a joint in half, most of the crowd broke out in groans generally reserved for scenes from Hostel. That made me laugh.