Harold & Kumar

Is Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay really best viewed as a stoner flick?   Two baby boomers go to see it with their 15-year-old daughter... without getting high before, during or after

For weeks, my teenage daughter Marina and I had been counting the days until the movie opened. Our countdown started in early April when Marina, who constantly trolls the Internet in pursuit of pop culture news, walked into the kitchen to fill me in on the latest.

"Mom, do you remember that stoner movie we saw back in 2004?"

"What is a stoner movie?" I asked distractedly, as I sliced carrots for dinner.

"You know.  It's a movie where the characters smoke lots of marijauna," Marina explained somewhat impatiently. She had that familiar, teenage how can moms be so out-of-it? look on her face.

"You mean they've got a whole genre devoted to this subject?" I asked with surprise. "Anyhow, I don't remember taking you to a stoner movie, as you call them. You were only 11 years old back then, for goodness sake."

"Well, you did. Remember the movie about the Korean guy and the Indian guy in New Jersey who spend a whole night driving around looking for burgers?"

"Oh, you mean Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle!" I laughed, at the memory. "That was funny. I loved it!"

"You did?" Marina asked. "You really loved it?" An expression of bemused astonishment spread slowly over her face. I realized that my responsible teenage daughter was trying to get her head around the idea that her mother actually loved a stoner flick.

"Yes," I assured her. "Although I'd forgotten that marijuana was one of the plot points."

"You forgot that marijuana was one of the plot points?" Marina said, looking at me incredulously.

At 15, she still has a healthy suspicion of drugs and alcohol. And now I deduced that at 11 the marijuana thing had made a big impression on her. 

"Anyhow," Marina continued, "I just came out here to say that there is another Harold and Kumar movie coming out soon. It's called Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay."

"Escape from Guantanamo Bay?" I repeated. Then I broke out laughing and I couldn't stop. 

A beat later, Marina started laughing too. The more we considered it, the funnier it seemed. It took us a long time to get serious again. For anyone who has seen the first Harold and Kumar movie, the title of the new one is the punch line to a long-running joke. 

My responsible teenage daughter was trying to get her head around the idea that her mother actually loved a stoner flick.

The 2004 movie revolves around two 20-something New Jersey guys who smoke reefer one Friday night, have an attack of the munchies, and set off on a picaresque car trip in search of White Castle burgers. 

In the course of their all-night odyssey, the two characters play off each other like modern day Abbotts and Costellos. Harold (John Cho) is the straight man, a Korean-American, type-A, neatnik, who's a junior analyst at an investment bank, trying to climb the ladder. His pal Kumar (Kal Penn) is the outrageous one, a smart-ass Indian-American hedonist with perfect MCAT scores, who devotes himself to chasing girls, getting high on weed and trying to sabotage his applications to med school.

With his wiggly eyebrows, popping eyes and wide, sweet smile, Kumar manages to be shamelessly over-the-top, yet lovable at the same time. He'll wow a med school dean with his knowledge of pancreatitus, then blow the interview by shouting about dope into his cell phone. Kumar is no fool, although he's the consumate clown.  He knows exactly what he's doing. "Just because you're hung like a moose doesn't mean you've got to do porn," he explains to the apoplectic dean.

Unlike some comic characters whose humor stems from their stupidity, Harold and Kumar are smart, witty and ironic. They're also obsessed with toilet humor, breasts and penises. Like so many all-American 20-somethings, they consume a prodigious diet of television, hip-hop and junk food. Impressive IQs not withstanding, these two guys see themselves as typical American males, pursuing the American dream. From your view in the audience, you'll be compelled to agree with them. The joke is that almost everyone they meet sees them as foreigners.

"Kumar? What kind of a name is that, anyhow?" sneers a New Jersey cop who wants to arrest the pair for jay-walking at 2:00 A.M. in the middle of nowhere.  "Whatever happened to good, old, American names like Dave or Jim?" 

Later, after Kumar breaks Harold out of a holding cell, the same cop passes around sketches of the missing suspects: Harold depicted with a Fu-Manchu mustache. Kumar, wearing a turban.

The policeman is just one of a number of racists they encounter as they zig-zag across the Garden State in search of burgers. When not being harassed by suburban rednecks, the two are mercilessly pursued by their families' Asian-American network. These well-meaning friends and relations seem to believe the boys ought to  "give something back" to their community. The boys think otherwise.

Cindy Kim, a sincere and bespectacled Princeton student, is forever popping up to urge Harold to attend the meetings of his alma mater's Asian-American Club. Harold, who has the hots for a Latina babe, freezes in Cindy's presence, torn between his impeccable sense of good manners and his fear of falling permanently into Cindy's nerdy, high-achieving world by way of the "inevitable" Korean-American marriage. 

As one pal remarks to the other, "This is America, dude!" Forget the Asian-American stuff, these boys just want to have fun.

 These two guys see themselves as typical American males, pursuing the American dream... The joke is that almost everyone else sees them as foreigners.

When I stopped to think about it, I realized that--given the topsy-turvy times we live in--and the over-the-top humor of White Castle--it was almost fated that Harold and Kumar would end up at Guantanamo Bay sooner or later. Maybe it's that sense of insane inevitability that makes the movie title so painfully funny.

After we stopped laughing, Marina and I made a pact that we'd see Escape from Guantanamo Bay the day that it opened. This time, we would even invite The Dad, who had regrettably missed out last time around.

Finally, the countdown was over and I was jubilant. "Are you ready? The Harold and Kumar movie opens tomorrow!" I crowed to Marina. 

Alas, I was unprepared for her answer. "I've got too much homework to go," she told me glumly.

Marina has a bit more of the Harold than the Kumar in her personality. And that is probably for the best. Nevertheless, as a member of the sixties generation, I couldn't help but feel we had come to a sorry pass when the teenager was telling her disappointed parent she had too much homework to go to the movies.  It's just so twenty-first century!

Be that as it may, we postponed our plans. And a week later, when the three of us finally arrived at Loews Theater at 84th and Broadway, we knew it had been worth the wait.

Streaming into the theater was one of the most diverse audiences I've ever seen. Young, old and middle-aged folks of every race and ethnicity sat elbow to elbow. Many were interracial couples. We grabbed seats between three teenage Korean boys sharing a bucket of popcorn and an African-American man and his Latina date, who looked to be in their late twenties. Behind us, a 30-something Japanese woman sat with her African-American beau. Next to them was a middle-aged white and Asian couple. 

Given the topsy-turvey times we live in, it was almost fated that Harold and Kumar would end up at Guantanamo Bay sooner or later

As soon as the credits began, it was clear this was an audience of serious Harold and Kumar fans. When the titles appeared in a flowery Bollywood-style lettering across a fuchsia screen, there was loud, appreciative laughter. Nobody, however, lit up a jay--at least not in the theater. 

Although four years have passed since the first Harold and Kumar movie came out, the new story takes place just days after their infamous trip to White Castle.  The fans may have aged, but Harold and Kumar are as immature as ever. This time they're headed for a week's vacation in Amsterdam, where Harold plans to pursue his Latina babe and Kumar hopes to revel in endless marijuana clouds. 

No sooner are they on the plane, however, than Kumar decides to test his new invention--a smokeless bong--in the bathroom. The scheme is classic Kumar: technically brilliant but incredibly stupid... and proof positive that he's got a serious weed problem.  

Harold is furious, "Can't you wait 'til we get to Amsterdam?" he hisses, frantic but helpless against the whirlwind that is Kumar. 

A paranoid passenger, who's been eyeing the two Asians fearfully, is sure they have a bomb and shrieks loudly. Within seconds, security has tackled the "terrorists" to the floor. And faster than you can say Osama bin Laden, the buddies have landed in Guantanamo Bay prison.

True to form, our all-American boys are appalled by the terrorists they meet there. And they make their patriotic stand. When one prisoner wearing a fright beard tells them that Americans should eat fewer donuts and pay more attention to the rest of the world, Kumar lets the subversive bastard have it. "Fuck you!  Donuts are awesome!"

The audience roared with laughter at this one. But I couldn't help feeling it was partly a roar of pain. The prison set-up could almost have come from a Woody Allen flick circa 1969. Except that now the prison is Guantanamo and it's real and it's ours. 

As it transpires, the reputed Al-Qeada members are not the scariest people in Guantanamo. That honor goes to the super-sized American guards who arrive in the boys' cell and announce it's time for "cock-meat sandwiches."  

Always the naif, Kumar asks with surprise, "The guards at Guantanamo Bay are gay?"

One of the would-be rapists sets him right on that score, explaining that it's the guys forced to do the sucking who are gay, not the macho abusers. I can't remember the last time I saw a comedy that skewered the power politics of sexual attitudes, quite this way... maybe it was a Pedro Almodovar movie. 

Streaming into the theater was one of the most diverse audiences I've ever seen.

A number of critics have made noises about the supposed sexism and homophobia in the Harold and Kumar flicks. So after the show was over, I decided to put that critique to my daughter and find out what a member of the younger generation took away from the flick.

"I can see why somebody might think that," said Marina. "But it's the characters who are sexist and homophobic, not the movie."

Now, if a 15-year-old can sort this out, what's with the paid professionals?

Others have criticized the filmmakers for doing a comedy about Guantanamo. Before the movie was even released, Amnesty International put out a statement saying, "Guantanamo is no joke," and urged supporters to distribute flyers about torture at theaters that showed it. 

Of course Guantanamo isn't funny. But that doesn't mean jokes can't and shouldn't be made about it. Humor can be a potent political tool. I'm guessing this new comedy is going to help Amnesty International's cause, rather than hurt it, if only by reminding a wide swath of Americans about the existence of a place many would rather forget.

In the movie, Harold and Kumar manage to escape from Guantanamo in less than an hour and are soon back on the mainland, searching for justice. I have to admit I was disappointed by the brevity of their incarceration. 

What did I expect? Well, at least an extended and surreal encounter with the "real" foreigners in their fright beards. But as outre as writer-directors Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg are willing to be on some topics, when it comes to Islamic fundamentalists, it seems they just aren't willing to go there. Beyond self-preservation, I guess there's some artistic logic to that. 

Despite their shaggy dog plots and gross jokes, the Harold and Kumar comedies are tightly-focused spoofs on American culture. When we laugh, we're laughing at ourselves, our former selves or at least our relatives or next door neighbors.

Once the boys are back in mainland America, they embark on another road trip similar to their White Tower odyssey. This one takes them down the highways of the American south where they meet an assortment of stereotype-flipping characters: a backwoods hillbilly living in a sleek, modern house; a huge, crowbar wielding African-American man who turns out to be an orthodontist. This is a world where every assumption turns out to be off base. Even the Ku Klux Klan can't get their intended victims straight--they mistake Harold and Kumar... for Mexicans!

It's hard not to laugh at the racism gone awry, but somehow I found White Castle more hilarious and more poignant. Maybe that's because the American south and the Ku Klux Klan are tired targets, while New Jersey has not been quite so raked over yet.

Despite their shaggy dog plots and gross jokes, the Harold and Kumar comedies are tightly-focused spoofs on American culture.

Those who know New Jersey will recognize the cultural and topographical landscape White Castle maps out. For some, just the names of the drab cities Harold and Kumar pass through--Newark, New Brunswick, Trenton and Cherry Hill--have the power to evoke affectionate laughter.

New Jersey, with its endless procession of strip malls and fast food outlets, can be a horrendous eyesore. But it can also be poetic.  As my husband Frank, a born and bred Jersey guy, likes to point out, the long ago-named Garden State may today be the wellspring of all things carcinogenic, but it is also the birthplace of William Carlos Williams, Allen Ginsberg and Bruce Springsteen.  And it is still the home of the mysterious and beautiful Pine Barrens. 

It's the juxtaposition of the poetic with the crass and moronic that makes White Castle so funny and--sometimes--strangely moving.  In this first movie, Harold and Kumar's nemeses are a gang of skateboarding punks who are into all kinds of extreme sports... including harassment. Our comic heroes run into the gang in a 24-hour convenience store where the punks are stealing junk food, trashing the aisles and taunting the Indian night manager. 

"Somebody should do something," says Harold, uncomfortably.  Whereupon Kumar tells off one of the punks, thereby provoking a threatening encounter.

"When I said somebody, I didn't mean us," Harold amends his comment, a beat later. It's another exchange that could be vintage Woody Allen. But spoken by a Korean-American in the current political climate, the humor takes on another, darker dimension.

While pursuing their Holy Grail--White Castle burgers, Harold and Kumar get lost on the back roads of New Jersey, have their car stolen by a jaded and stoned TV actor (Neil Patrick Harris playing a version of himself) and hitch a ride with a creepy, ax-wielding Jesus freak who's covered with boils and--generously or not, it's hard to tell--offers to share his wife. 

Having done some New Jersey hitch hiking, back in the day, I can say that these gross comic caricatures are on the mark. I'll never forget the ride a boyfriend and I once caught with a tattooed fat man who had 200 pounds of freshly-ground, raw meat sitting, uncovered on the seat next to him. As flies buzzed around the meat and the driver told us about the various guns he owned, we exchanged terrified glances and plotted our escape. When he stopped at a small house to--he explained--collect a gambling debt, we jumped out of the car and ran as fast as we could into the summer night.

Anyone who's spent time on the back roads of America will recognize the secondary Harold & Kumar characters as genuine American Gothic, enhanced, perhaps with a bit of R. Crumb-inspired humor, make-up and special effects.

Even the Ku Klux Clan can't get their intended victims straight--they mistake Harold and Kumar... for Mexicans!

After seeing Guantanamo Bay with Frank, Marina and I wanted him to view the original--and still our favorite--Harold and Kumar movie.  So we rented White Castle the following week. Like me, Frank laughed especially hard at the hitch hiking and convenience store scenes. For this Jersey guy, who spent his youth walking, hitching and driving through the state, this comedy really nailed it.

"Listen!" he shouted excitedly in the middle of one scene, "They've even got the sound of New Jersey crickets on the soundtrack!" 

It's the little touches, the cricket sounds, the evocative shots of the back roads and woods at night that give this film its sense of authenticity. These guys have spent serious time in New Jersey, you feel, and they really know what it's all about.

Critics of the Harold and Kumar movies have gone on about the gross and inane toilet humor--Guantanamo begins, for example, with Kumar taking a loud dump while Harold is in the shower. I have to agree these jokes are not the comic highlights of the movies. Take them as the formulaic background noise of the genre--the necessary connective tissue, just as references to "the rosy-fingered dawn" were required of Homer. But also take them as an on-going series of cultural markers to remind us of exactly where we are and in what century. 

There's a lot of silliness in America and maybe it's time we took a long, satirical look at it.

To really get these flicks, you need to see the toilet and penis jokes, the swearing and the reefer madness as part of the cultural milieu that is ultimately satirized.  In one of the early scenes in White Castle, Harold and Kumar chill out in their apartment, where marijuana posters cover the walls and the 2003 hip-hop hit "Let's Get Retarded" blasts from a boom box.  

The song lyrics, with their wicked pun ("retarded" means wasted) set the boisterous, politically incorrect, but also ironic tone of the movie.  As the filmmakers are reminding us, so much of American mainstream culture is retarded in every sense of the word.

When our family filed out of the theater after Guantanamo, we met a classical musician acquaintance who was there, shepherding her son and his friends. Due to its obscene language, graphic nudity and ten-year-old toilet humor, the movie got an R rating... meaning that kids under 17 are compelled to bring their parents. This could be a good education for the older generation, I figured. 

But, our elegant musician friend seemed nonplused by Harold and Kumar. 

"Such silliness!  Such silliness!" she repeated again and again, shaking her head, as her sixteen-year-old pretended he'd never seen her before. Evidently this mom had been expecting a more high brow political satire.

She was right, of course. There is a lot of silliness in the Harold and Kumar movies. But to me that seems perfectly appropriate.  There's a lot of silliness in America and maybe it's time we took a long, satirical look at it.

Back at home, I asked Marina and Frank how they liked Guantanamo.  "Great!"  And, "Very funny, especially the political humor!" was the verdict all around.

Frank's favorite part was a scene where an upper-level flunky from the Department of Homeland Security insists on having Harold's parents interviewed in Korean, despite the fact that their English sounds as good as--if not better than--everyone else's. 

Marina loved the scene where Harold and Kumar--dare I say it in print?--smoke dope with the President of the United States. W, as most of us knew all along, turns out to be terrified of his daddy and Dick Cheney.  In this movie, he spends his time getting stoned and hiding out from the big boys--a twist on the expected that may seem hysterical to teenagers, but doesn't sound all that far fetched to those who've been following the news for the past eight years.

At last, after we'd discussed all our favorite scenes, the critic-in-me felt compelled to ask the question the mother-in-me would rather have avoided.

"Everyone keeps calling this movie a stoner flick.  So... do you think it's necessary to get stoned in order to enjoy it?"

"Oh, no!" said Marina, with a definitive shake of her head.  "We all laughed a lot, and we weren't stoned," she pointed out, as I nodded my agreement.

"Speak for yourself," deadpanned Frank.  "I had a jay in the men's room."

Of course, I knew my husband too well to even bat an eyelash at that one.  But Marina turned to give him a quizzical, searching look... until he couldn't keep a straight face any longer.

"Just kidding!" he reassured her.