The Film Strain: Hot Tub Time Machine
by Andrew E. Konietzky
Let’s get straight to the heart of the film… John Cusack, Craig Robinson, and Rob Corddry play three guys who were all best friends in their ’80’s heyday but have since drifted apart. When Corddry passes out in his car while it’s idling in his closed garage, the other two take it as a suicide attempt and plan a reunion trip to Kodiak Valley, the ski resort where they once had an epic weekend in the winter of ’86. Cusack brings along his nephew, played by Clark Duke.
They get in their suite’s Hot Tub Time Machine[IMG|1x1]http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=suicblog-20&l=as2&o=1&a=B002ZG97XI[/IMG] and wake up the next morning to discover they’re suddenly, back in 1986. These guys have seen Back to the Future so they figure out that they have to do everything they did in ’86, or they will completely screw up the future. Cusack has to let his girlfriend stab him in the eye. Corddry has to get beaten up by a squad of evil jocks. Sweep the leg for a small spoiler my friends. Robinson has to sleep with someone, which he’s terrified about because he is technically married. And Duke – whose mom is also at the lodge figures out that he was conceived this weekend. He frantically tries to get them to stay on track, lest they change something that might cause him to cease to exist.
Hijinks ensue, and the movie succeeds in keeping the laughs and 80’s in-jokes high. All four leads have terrific rapport with each other, and are aided by Crispin Glover and Chevy Chase in recurring cameos. The only aspect I was greatly disappointed by was its failure to capitalize on Cusack’s presence. The film is brilliant in that it mimics the type of teen movies that made Cusack famous. Surprisingly, the movie ultimately belongs to Corddry, who successfully plays the “asshole” in a manner both charming and empathetic.
Grab your towel and enjoy the hot tub.
Amazon.com Widgets
True Stories by Rob Corddry: Reasons I Havent Written in Weeks
O Dear friends! What a prolonged spell! What a gap! Where has the laughter gone? Why the tears? Why the tears, baby? You know Id never mean to hurt you! I just cant control myself! Whos my special reader? Whos my special reader? You are! You are!
(pause here while Rob lifts up your shirt and kisses your belly button. His unshaven chin tickles you a little. Hes looking into your eyes now. Youre falling. Falling. All is forgiven. Within moments he is finger-banging you. Mmm.)
So, Im back. I feel terrible. I know you guys come to this site for the culture. You get your geek-fix from Wil, you get your hard news from Marisa, you get an instruction on how-not-to-write from Kessleman, and from me
you get a page and a half of vicodin-laced stories abut how cool my wife is, which she totally eats-the-fuck-up by the way.
Im in New York shooting a very, very important film (a comedy in the romantic vein, something for the ladies) and my wife and daughter fly in today so before I trek out to JFK to scoop them up Ill explain my absence.
1. I was busy. But not really. I dont mean every second was taken up by something, I was just busy being somewhere else that wasnt home, you know? It takes a lot of psychic energy to go somewhere and do something. I have a Suicide Girls routine which is hard to follow here in NY. It involves a lubricant containing a live culture that is illegal on the East Coast. Get with it, East Coast!
2. Im lazy. But not really. Ive actually had an inordinate amount of energy lately, but its all been spent on taking the subway to Buy Buy Baby to get socket plugs and going to Trader Joes so that my wife has that egg-white salad she loves so much. God, what a special lady, huh?
3. Im spending a lot of time on set. In my trailer. Doing nothing. Perfect time to write you may ask? No. Perfect time to nap. Perfect time to make phone calls. Perfect time to organize my digital music into inventive Smart Playlists. Perfect time to masturbate. I love my wife.
4. Im trying to invent a time machine. Ask Wil, thats HARD.
5. Television is fun to watch.
6. Ive been eating a lot of citrus. Ive been cooking soufflés. Ive been reading Erma Bombecks back catalogue. Ive been trimming bonsai trees.
7. Im a functional alcoholic. That means lots of dinner parties and wine tastings. I only attend functions where it would be uncivilized not to drink. I rarely drink alone (unless no one is with me) so a gallery opening is the easiest place for me to rationalize a self-medication. Try writing with half-a-hangover. No way Jose. Seriously Jose, how many times do I have to tell you to shut-up?
8. Im insecure. Ive been going through a molting process. I cant seem to say, write or do a funny thing. Im worried that Im a plagiarist at heart; a comedy-vampire with timing. But like The Hungry Caterpillar Im eating a lot of green leaves and will soon be a Beautiful Butterfly. I love you very, very much. Fuck off.
9. I never know how to end these things.
Jonathan Kesselmans Suicide Watch: Rob Corddry, Be My Friend!
When Rob_Corddry first came to SG as a columnist a few months back, I was ecstatic! Ive been a Robert Cornelius Corddry (February 4, 1971 to November 16, 2006) fan for years. Rob first caught my eye with his work on the Daily Show With Jon Stewart. The Double D, as I liked to call him back then, was a master of Deadpan, yet there always seemed to be a sense of mischievousness bubbling underneath. Two years ago, a producer friend of mine slipped me a DVD of his paintball photoplay, entitled, Blackballed: The Bobby Dukes Story. It was about a guy named Bobby Dukes who was actually blackballed from the sport of paintball, only to make a comeback and get back his ex-girl AND his confidence, and then ultimately he fucks shit up on the paintball field! Later, when I heard Rob's voice work as Devil on Cartoon Networks Weighty Decisions, I was hooked! I heart-ed the Corddry, for serious!
Upon reading his first post at SG, I was stunned. Rob Corddry, the CELEBRITY, (with a capital L, and a capital B...and some other capital letters) was using the same user-friendly code (e.g. {b} = boldface type) that I was to post his columns. He was the big fish swimming in my pond, and I could only imagine that he was as naked as I was! Poof! Kajagoogoo! Just like that, Rob and I were Blog Buddies. So, after re-reading his first post for, like, the seventh or eighth time, I finally worked up the nerve to request his friendship on the site. Im a bit shy, but I knew that he and I were destined to be BFF -- Blog Friends Forever! I was so excited that I went down to the Connecticut Muffin around the corner to pick up an Apple Tart and a Large Coffee in anticipation of his response that evening. If you havent had the Apple Tart at Connecticut Muffin, let me tell you, theyre really, really, really good.
Well, Im sad to report that his acceptance of my friendship request never came. I shook it off. I mean, Rob was a busy guy, right? He had a new TV show and a new baby girl suckling on his wifes teat
he just needed some time to get to know the real me. Rome wasnt built in a day, and neither are friendships, nor those awesome Jeff Koons art installations for that matter. So, I waited some more. And then I waited even more than the more before that more. However, by the end of the week, my "more" tank was running on fumes. My anticipation had turned from, well, anticipation, to disappointment, to resentment, back to anticipation, then to sadness, then to hunger (an apple tart can only satiate you for so long) to some sort of strange slap-happy giddiness, to consternation, to punctiliousness (I think I felt that), to
well, lets just say I went through a wide range of emotions. But, I can honestly say that over the course of the week, I only left my chair twice. And both those times were to #2. Still, when all was said and done, I heard not a single peep from Mr. Corddry.
As you can imagine, my ego was shattered. My self-esteem plummeted faster than you can say, "Upright Citizens Brigade." And just in case you were wondering, thats where Rob honed his comedic chops from the years 1998-2000 A.D. (A.D. = the After Death years of his lord, Jesus Christ). FYI, Robs an Episcopalian.
So, what was I to do? I took a long hard look at my life, and I realized that I was essentially left with nothing. I went back to his profile. He had over 80 friends listed! 80! And I, his comrade-in-blogs, wasnt invited to the party! You can imagine my hurt. It was at that point that I knew that I was going to win Robs friendship come hell or high water. It was also at that point that I realized that I had no idea what the phrase come hell or high water means. Is there water in hell? Because I was under the impression it was, like, really hot there, with hellfire and stuff. I bet Rob, in the research he did for the role of Devil found out the answer to that one! When we finally met, that would be my first question for him!
So, I set off on a journey to discover everything I could about the real Rob Corddry. My first stop was Weymouth, Mass -- his birthplace. I spoke to Mr. Feig, his Gym Teacher at Weymouth High School. He told me that Rob actually had hair when he was seventeen! He also told me that all the kids loved Rob, and that he was the class clown. I asked Mr. Feig if Rob ever made balloon animals, or if he recalled Rob ever being molested by any of the faculty. Mr. Feig said he did not.
From there, I made my way to UMASS in Amherst. I stopped by Robs old frat house, Theta Chi. His Brothers were totally psyched about the Double D! I told them that Rob had appeared in many plays during his stay at UMASS, including the deliciously homoerotic classic, Torch Song Trilogy. His frat brothers suddenly got all mad at me, and told me that I was a freaking douchebag pervert faggot. One spit on me and pushed me into the bushes. There is a lawsuit pending.
At this point, my feelings for Rob began to become
how do you say
less than platonic. Wait! No, I got it. My feelings for Rob became
that I wanted to climb completely inside of his skin, and like Trent Reznor, fuck him like an animal, feeling him from the inside. Can that even be classified as a feeling? Just a random aside; they say that a vagina is an inside out penis, and vice versa!!! Regardless, I decided it was time for Rob and I to meet face to face, so I hopped on a plane to my hometown of Los Angeles, CA.
My first stop was Rob Corddrys residence at XXXXXXXX (editors note: this information has been removed to protect Mr. Corddrys privacy), where I waited outside in a tree on the adjacent property. From my vantage point, I watched Rob and his "family" secretly. His wife, Sandra seemed really nice, but her and her little breast feeding sycophant Sloane (Sloane!? Seriously? Like from, Ferris Buellers Day Off?) were the only two people standing between the Double D and me!
Or is it me and the Double D? I always confuse that rule of grammar.
So, as I stealthily slipped into Robs yard and headed for the open bathroom window, I was suddenly tackled to the ground by two members of his neighborhood security team. I think their names were Don and Mick. Or is it Mick and Don?...not really sure if the same grammatical rules apply.
Don and Mick were bigger than me, and Mick smelled like cheese. But they had me pinned! I screamed out for Rob.
I screamed, Robbbbbb! Robbbbbb! Robbbbbb! Robbbbbb! Robbbbbb! Robbbbb! Robbbbb! Robbbbbbb! Robbbbbb! Robbbbbbb! Robbbbbb! Robbbbbb! Robbbbbbb!
It was at that point that Don put his hand over my mouth and Mick punched me in the head repeatedly before the two men dragged me across the lawn and tossed me into their security vehicle. The Corddrys, bless their little hearts (except for Sloane and Sandra, those whores!!!) did not press charges. Rob recognized my name from the SG website. He even gave me an awesome glossy headshot that he signed for me if I promised to never come within a thousand yards of him or his family! I masturbated to it in the airplane bathroom on the way back to NY!
Im back in Brooklyn now, and I just logged onto my SG account. Still, my friendship request has gone unanswered. Rob, if youre reading this, once again, Im truly sorry. Here in NY, I am way more than a thousand yards from you! I still heart you with all my heart, and I think our friendship is salvageable. Please, for the love of your God -- the Episcopalian Jesus -- add me as a friend! We could be the best Blog Buddies ever!
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Jonathan Kesselman
Jon_Kesselman was going to write about his Internet Panhandling experiment from last week, but it did not bring in the tens of thousands of dollars he expected. WTF!? Jon, however, does want to personally thank RudieCantFail for his generous $50 donation. The experiment did, however, spark an even better idea which Jon is currently working out...
True Stories by Rob Corddry: Urine Trouble
I get real depressed every time I wet my pants. Its textbook. I stay in bed all day, cut off all my friends, eat nothing but ice cream, and write bad poetry. My wife dreads these spells.
Normally Im a fully functioning human person: I go to work, I eat pasta, I read trade paperbacks. But the second a drop of urine touches my man-panties? Im freefalling down the rabbit-hole. And I DONT mean that literally! Read a book!
For those of you who dont know, I AM ON TELEVISION. This means that I am periodically called upon to elevate the minds of the masses via comedic and/or trageo-realistic scenarios. This requires that my mind stay fresh, my body conditioned and that my undies absorb nothing urine-like. Once, in college, I was doing Shakespeare (heard of him?) and my college buddies put yellow stains in all of my under-drawers with magic marker. This innocent prank landed me in health services with a Valium addiction to rival that of any Mid-western housewife. I almost manslaughtered the fuck out of those douches! Their names were Fitzy, Sully, Little Sully, Herdo, Beerchuggingmaster, John C. Reilly and Black Sully. I wonder what happened to those guys?
Presently Im doing a show on Fox called The Winner. It comes out in January and its guaranteed to trigger a massive cultural shift. The other night (I am NOT telling you which one, youll blab it to everybody) I was preparing for a scene in which I had to walk down some fake stairs and perform a fake situation with a person. Thats when my bladder told my brain-ball that I had to tinkle. I ran to my dressing room (you know, the one with the huge star on the door) and humiliated the toilet with a stream of gorgeous liquid body-filth. I shook my penis with a vigor required of those in my profession and forced the damn thing back into my khakis. Guess what happened then? The last drop ended up in my pants. It always does, doesnt it?
When the Fire Department finally broke through my dressing room door I was tucked up inside the oven I had built for just such occasions. It took the Jaws of Life just to get me out of the fetal position (Gross!). My costars had probably gone on without me or had postponed the show or were just waiting to see what would happen or played cards or gotten something to eat or read a newspaper or went over their lines or made phone calls or checked their email or took a power nap or did something else or just talked to each other. You know how actors can be!
With my pants now dry I somehow made it home to the loving arms of my wife. It was crowded in there because she was holding our selfish selfish selfish baby. I took a nap for a few weeks but somehow managed to keep up on Lost without using my Tivo. I hope someday, after they get off that crazy island, theyll have reunion shows where they perhaps sing songs or do comedy routines. Except for Michelle Rodriguezs character. If you die in the show you cant do the reunion specials! Thats a hard and fast rule. Have you seen Heroes? Thats a pretty good show.
Manic depression runs in my family and can be triggered by anything, specifically things that are reminiscent of traumatic events from your childhood. Ive interviewed my parents and, to my horror, found out that they used to make me wear a diaper. And when I wet my diaper I would cry! Think about it! Paging Doctor Freud!
In conclusion, John C. Reilly went on to become a very successful actor.
Rob Corddry is an actor. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife and daughter.