A hangover is proof that a lesson in control was not learned. And indeed, the only lesson in evidence for this unwarranted "epic finale to the Hangover trilogy" (per Warner Bros.) is that still more cash can be squeezed out of a very tired comic premise, directed again by Todd Phillips.
Honestly, nobody even tries this time. Gone is the drunken flashback gimmick, replaced by a hurriedly sketched set-up whereby the Wolf Pack have to take a road trip and are bedeviled by the mayhem-wreaking Mr. Chow. (Ken Jeong's shtick has grown sooooooooooooo tiresome.) The story isn't funny, and the film relies mostly on pratfalls and people blurting out curse words for laughs. Even the patented gross-out joke doesn't appear until the end credits, and there's a WTF bit in which a giraffe is decapitated for laughs.
The entire enterprise seems like a giant setback for all involved, and I wondered just what kind of contractual obligation, feckless greed or demonic spell made everyone return. Supposedly, there will be no more Hangovers, but who hasn't heard that before?