An Open Letter To Anyone Remotely Involved in The Hangover 3

An industry insider revealed a few days ago that the location for The Hangover 3 will be Tijuana. In tragic news, this announcement also unintentionally revealed to me that they actually do intend to make a Hangover 3. Thankfully, they’ve also revealed that this will be the final film in the franchise. A promise which has now been written down by me, here, which constitutes a binding contract. Regardless, I still disagree with a third film, so I’ve taken the liberty of writing an open letter to anyone and everyone involved. Feel free to add your signature if you’re interested in addressing a problem that’s crippling America.

Dear Hangover 3 Production Team,

Before you say anything, please just hear me out. We’re here because we love you. Or, well, we loved the first Hangover movie. We saw it without expectations, and it was a great movie; well-written, original, well-acted, hilarious. It felt good to watch, so we watched it again. We spent money on it in record amounts. $467 million. Our money was flowing into your pockets, and you started to feel good about yourselves in ways you hadn’t felt in years. The money turned on receptors in your brain that you thought were long dead. You were intoxicated, and in retrospect, we should have never let you get behind the wheel pen.

But we did, and thus we’re as much to blame as you are for The Hangover 2. At the time, we lied to ourselves. We saw the preview and remembered how good it felt the very first time we saw The Hangover. We wanted to feel that way again. For some of us, we’d been chasing that dragon for two years, and we couldn’t wait to get another taste. But others of us had taken some time away from the franchise. We recognized that The Hangover was a part of our past that we couldn’t relive, like college. We remembered it fondly, but we knew better to go chasing that experience again. We knew it could never live up to the way we remembered it.

But sadly, those voices of reason largely lost out to the crush of addicts flooding into the theaters last year. Some of us knew better, some of us were lying to ourselves, and some of us were in such a dark place that we didn’t care anymore. We pressed our way into the seats, scrabbled our filthy hands around in a bucket of popcorn, and feverishly slapped our veins as we waited for the movie to start.

I don’t have to tell you what happened next. For the next two and a half hours, the curtain was pulled off a perfect replica of the original movie, just with the identifying features swapped out. There was a wedding. Someone went missing. There was a baby. Someone lost an important part of their body. A Chinese man jumped out of a small container. There were no consequences for seriously life-altering events such as a heterosexual male being anally penetrated and a classically-trained violinist losing a necessary finger. The movie ended with a photo montage. There was even a wild animal. I could go on, but you’ve heard this before. All of it. I don’t want to hurt you, but you hurt me the day you made me watch the same movie twice and pay for it both times. Just calling something by a different name doesn’t make it different. I could say you weren’t an addict, but you still are. You’re addicted to my money and it’s changed you into someone I don’t want to know anymore.

Again I take responsibility for my part in this. I contributed to the $581 million that the second film made. And I understand that you have 581 million reasons to make the third one, but I won’t be one of them. I’m cutting you off. I can’t support you when you’re like this. I went along, I closed my eyes to it. I told myself it wasn’t a problem. But it was, and I have to take myself out of your life, out of responsibility to myself, and also to you. I won’t let you hurt yourself like this anymore. I won’t let you hurt us.

If you have to make The Hangover 3, that’s your choice, and I wish you the best. I know there will be millions of junkies just like you slapping you on the back and calling you ‘buddy’. And there’s nothing I can do to change that. Just call me when you think you’re ready to put all this behind you, okay?

Take care of yourself,

Alexis Rhiannon

(Image: djstormsblog.com)

Share This Post: