If “Think Like a Man Too” was a man, he would be the world’s worst date: humorless, shrill, speaking primarily in clichés (“what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas!”) and absolutely terrified of women.
This sequel to the 2012 romantic comedy plucked from the wisdom of Steve Harvey’s dating manual sees the cast, and director Tim Story, reunited for the wedding of mama’s boy Michael (Terrence J) and single mom Candace (Regina Hall).
Overlaid by screechy narration from Kevin Hart’s comic-relief Cedric, the plot involves the genders dividing into opposing “teams” (because men and women are different, see?) competing to out-debauch each other the night before the nuptials. The way this played out made me long for the subtle comic stylings of “The Hangover.” Part III.
Take, for example, the men (Hart, J, Jerry Ferrara, Michael Ealy, Romany Malco, Gary Owen) deciding they must enter a strip-club contest to pay off Cedric’s debt. After a promising pan through the group squirming into “Magic Mike” garb, their stage debut is thwarted by a brawl.
Let me assure you, any woman who’s endured this much cinematic flaccidity is going to be mighty annoyed she was denied the sight of Ealy gyrating in a fireman’s outfit.
Moreover, the scene embodies the main problem with “TLAM2.” It never just delivers the joke. Nearly every scene is performed as if there’s a big punch line coming, and there’s no payoff. (If this movie was a guy, he’d also be terrible in bed.)
Elsewhere, the bachelorette-party gals (Hall, Gabrielle Union, Meagan Good, Taraji P. Henson, Wendi McLendon-Covey) accidentally eat some strong marijuana — a lazy but effective setup for hallucinogenic antics. Nothing really comes of it, other than Union’s character having an “a-ha” moment the next morning.
The closest the film comes to funny is Hart sputtering indignantly at regular intervals, which he’s pretty good at. But like his character doing a “Risky Business” dance in his palatial Vegas villa, the guy’s all alone out there.
At one point, Adam Brody’s character snaps a jokey bachelor’s-night ball and chain onto Michael’s ankle (“Black men don’t put chains on black men,” Cedric observes, in a rare moment of actual dark humor) — and this is the way most of the cast seemed to me, a talented group of actors shackled to a crappy, regressive script. If this is what thinking like a man entails, I’ll stick with my lady brain, thanks.