Back in May 2009, I wrote my first movie review– for Pixar’s Up. 500 reviews later, we have arrived at… Hot Tub Time Machine 2. And though I wish I could say it’s befitting of such a landmark moment in my not-really-career as a movie critic… yeah, no.

Not only is it an egregiously profane, obscene, and foul, it’s just heinously unfunny and is perhaps the clearest proof yet that not every movie needs a sequel, no matter how fun the original was.

Five years ago, John Cusack led a zany cast of characters back to the 80s via a mystical hot tub. It never should have worked, but Cusack kept it grounded, and the nostalgia was fun, despite the presence of arguably America’s most aggressively unfunny actor, Rob Corddry. Now, we’re dipping our toes back into the water– only this time it’s without Cusack (who wisely stayed far away) and with Corddry as the lead. Whose bright idea was this?

On the plus side, if you think the human penis is hilarious, you’ll be rolling in the aisle after just five minutes. And if you think Rob Corddry taking a shotgun blast to the penis is even more hilarious, well, you’re in luck. And if you think the idea of him owning a painting of himself having sex with a tiger, or him having virtual reality sex with Adam Scott, or a nurse sticking a three-inch long needle being into a man’s testicles to drain fluid is funny, heck– don’t let me stop you. Me, I prefer not to see Corddry sitting on a throne asking for nipple rouge.

Re-joining him are Clark Duke and Craig Robinson as three-quarters of the original quartet, and Chevy Chase in back as well, though you’ll miss him if you look down at your popcorn for a few seconds. Scott is ostensibly taking over in Cusack’s absence, playing his grown-up son in the future. Oh right, I forgot to mention that we go ten years into the future for HTTM2, where the funniest joke is the fact that every car is a self-propelled Smart Car. And that Apple’s new iPad is designed to help you masturbate.

For every hundred “jokes” (I use the term as loosely as possible) in HTTM2, one of them might actually might make you not want to yawn or roll your eyes. I’m not sure what happened to director Steve Pink and screenwriter Josh Heald between the first and second installments, but my guess is that they both pulled a Benjamin Button and grew younger, finally landing at age 13 in time for this insipid sequel.

If you expect comedy to involve, you know, comedy, I would suggest staying home and reading a young child’s book of knock-knock jokes instead. (“Harry who? Harry up, I’m late!”) It’s infinitely more entertaining.

1/5 stars