For years now, there's been a group of us who, on certain occasions, gather at ye olde movie theatre to catch the newest of flicks to hit the silver screen - you know, the ones our significant others have no interest in viewing. We call these the man movies.
Examples of recent man movies include Iron Man, the Hulk, Star Trek, Transformers, the Watchmen, etc. Get the picture?
Now don't get me wrong - I'm not saying those of the female persuasion don't enjoy those movies, just that if you take a gander around the theatre during these flicks, the audience is usually tipped pretty heavily in favor of the testosterone crowd.
While the pack I run with (literally) tends to be folks of similar age, my son Andrew (himself a movie buff) often proves the exception to the age scale, and always fits in fine with the crowd. Every once in a while, though, he's barred from one of the movies because of its content.
Such is the case with this week's undertaking - the Hangover.
If you haven't read any of the promos or reviews about this movie which is currently tops at the box office, add me to the list of thumbs up the film is getting.
What a blast. No A-list celebrities, just a bunch of guys who look as though they had a ball making a movie about a quartet of friends whose overnight bachelor party in Las Vegas goes horribly wrong. From an apparently innocent rooftop toast, a missing person case, improbable situations and hilarity ensue and last straight through to the side-splitting credits.
But while the characters are a blast - with special props to Ed Helms, he of Andy-Bernard from the Office fame - it's the situations that really resonate.
In our crowd, our younger days rife with bachelor parties still reign in infamy. We never encountered tigers like the one that roams the suite in the movie, although there was that alleged donkey incident in New York. We certainly never hit the good luck streak the movie boys hit at the black jack tables, but we did have quite a run going on that slot machine that early morning in Atlantic City until the floor manager shut the machine off. We did have our version of the Mike Tyson right hook, with Scott on the receiving end. No baby left in our rooms, but we did meet the Baby-Faced Assassin. And while we didn't have live chickens and no one ever slipped a rufie in our drinks, there was that infamous bottle of wild turkey that made the rounds.
Bottom line, there was just enough familiarity in the people and the situations in the Hangover that hit close enough to home to tickle the funny bones of those of who survived those halcyon days of bachelor parties. And just as in Vegas, whatever happened in (FILL IN BACHELOR PARTY LOCATION HERE) stays in (FILL IN BACHELOR PARTY LOCATION HERE). Right guys?