72 Hours movie review: Kevin Hart throws himself into the slapstick, but Netflix’s intergenerational farce dispels its premise

There’s an interesting and insightful movie to be made about the culture clash that will inevitably result between 40-year-old Millennials and many Gen Zers in their 20s. But this isn’t Tim Story’s new Netflix comedy (barber shop, Ride along) and starring Kevin Hart.

Instead, as expected, 72 hours The film aims for the lowest common denominator, with a highly farcical plot in which Hart’s character is at various times mistaken for a human trafficker, a cop, and a Cuban drug dealer. He also got into a fight with several women in a moving limousine and found himself on a smuggler’s boat carrying an illegal smuggled quantity of “whale penises.” Add to that the fact that Hart’s face swells to horrific proportions after being stung by a jellyfish, and if all of this sounds funny, this is the movie for you.

The screenplay by a quartet of screenwriters features a reasonably clever premise. Hart plays Joe, a marketing executive who fails to land a new vodka line. “You don’t seem to understand youth culture anymore,” his boss (Kevin Dunne, doing his usual grumpy antics), tells him, adding that if Joe doesn’t keep up with the times, he’ll be passed over for a promotion.

Coincidentally, then, Joe finds himself accidentally involved in a group chat with several young people planning a bachelor party in Miami. When he impulsively responds with a gift of cash, he is invited to join the revelers, who have no idea he could be their father. Desperate to find out what interests the younger generation, Joe decides to go, much to the anger of his old friend (Teyana Taylor), who is impatient for the marriage proposal.

Meet the potential people when Joe meets Nick (Marcelo Hernandez), Hunter (Ben Marshall), and Freshman (Cam Patterson) – all three comedians Saturday Night Live Recruits – The Groom-to-be Mason (Mason Gooding, Heart eyes, Screaming 7) in a luxurious Miami mansion. The house turns out to be the former home of a deceased drug lord, which leads to serious complications as Joe suffers a series of misadventures, including several encounters with a group of criminals led by Jazz (Michael Mando, illustrating the dangers of print after his much more serious performance as Nacho Varga in You’d better call Saul).

The film reaches its unfunny nadir when the gangsters force Joe to take cocaine, which for some reason turns him into the hard-hitting Ricardo Montana, complete with… Scarface Tracks including “Say Hello to My Little Friend”. The gag was repeated later. Hart and the filmmakers seem convinced that his impression of Al Pacino is laughable.

And any criticism of cultural satire, for example, about Generation Z’s addiction to documenting their lives on social media, falls into crazy comedy gimmicks, with the younger cast, who have all proven funny on previous occasions, unable to elevate the otherwise pedestrian material. Hart tries hard (he always tries too hard), and throws himself into the slapstick comedy with his usual determination. The fact that he can extract some laughs is a testament to his comedic chops and professionalism.

There are some semi-entertaining performances along the way, including a brief cameo by Mike Epps as a cop, another actor whose identity Netflix deemed a spoiler. But both are outdone by the hilarious Andy Garcia, who shows that, under the right circumstances, sometimes serious actors can be the funniest of all. It’s a shame, though, to see Taylor, fresh off her Oscar-nominated role as a fierce revolutionary. Battle after battlewas reduced to playing the role of the disapproving girlfriend. It feels less like a departure than a decline.

And of course there are the obligatory outtakes during the end credits, which are apparently intended to prove that the actors, at least, found the proceedings funny.