Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle

By James C. Hess

As some readers of this effort may know, in addition to my duties as film critic and movie reviewer, I also dip my pen into the screenwriting pool: Over the past decade alone I have penned more than a dozen screenplays, a half dozen teleplays, several monologues, and more treatments than I care to admit owning up to. Despite the fact many of these efforts are now yellowing and fading as they collect dust on the writing shelf, having met with a certain demise, owing much to yours truly, some good has come from my attempts: I was recently invited to write a pilot script for a situtation comedy: A sit-com.

Now such efforts are a fickle and temperamental lot, so there must be rules to writing such things.

Right?

For me, with regards to a certain invite, there was only one rule: Make 'em laugh.

So I did.

Learning a few things in the process: Don't ever encourage anyone, for any reason, to consume the entire balance of a big drink while reading a script for a good sit-com, don't ever suggest someone eat oatmeal or the likes while reading a screenplay of the same nature, and never assume you know what is funny.

It gets messy, believe me. Especially when assuming you know what is funny.

Humor, I believe, and have said many times before, is the hardest thing to achieve success from: There is the matter of timing, remembering the punchline, and subjectivity: Despite good humor being universal there remains the matter of local sensibility. Don't, for example, tell a sex joke about a priest, a rabbi, and a minister to a priest, a rabbi, and a minister unless you are certain all three have a sense of humor about them.

Specifically, a sense of humor that allows for jokes of a sexual nature.

When I sat down to write the aforementioned screenplay for the pilot episode of a situational comedy I assumed I knew what was funny: I know what makes people laugh--I make people laugh all the time. But making people laugh and making them laugh within certain circumstances and select situations are two different things.

Especially--I repeat, again--given the subjective nature of humor itself.

To make a long story somewhat shorter the first draft of my script was a hit with those individuals who had say and sway over what goes forward and what is rejected: They all loved the characters, the setting, the premise, and the jokes themselves.

The problems--and they were many--came when the script was moved along to the next group of individuals, several of whom have no sense of humor. About anything.

So I was required to write a second draft of my script and submit it. Not to the first group of individuals who 'loved it', but the second group of individuals, who wanted 'funny'.

Because I write humor I assumed I knew what 'funny' was and did not ask for clarification or specifics.

I cannot say it enough: Never assume you know what is funny.

More than a dozen drafts of my script later, the premise, setting, and jokes all but gutted and expunged, I decided, perversely, to do something previously unthinkable: I decided I did not know what made for humor, and needed to ask what 'funny' was.

It could go without saying this particular script has joined its brethren on the shelf, to yellow and fade. The reason? Because, well, humor is a difficult thing to do. Good humor is an almost impossible task to achieve; made more so when you have to deal with people who have no clue what 'funny' is.

But despite this apparent failure good came from this particular exercise in dealings and encounters with The Hollywood Machine: There are secrets to know to succeed when it comes to producing good humor, and one such secret is your characters: Create unique and memorable characters, carefully drawn and formed, and you can get away with almost anything: Including sex jokes involving a priest, a rabbi, and a minister.

Another such secret: Your characters, no matter how unique, no matter how memorable, must be flawed. That's right: They must not only be the sorts who broke the mold when they were made but they must exhibits those cracks themselves. If they do, and they are to be the hero of your tale, then they must be the sort who will go to almost any lengths to realize a dream.

In short: The bigger the loser, the better; the more selfish your character is the more bankable they will be at the box office.

Go figure.

It was not my intention to turn this review about a so-so road picture, a comedy, into an examination and subsequent explanation of How Things Work In The Hollywood Machine based on first-hand experiences, because, well, the flick at hand is by no means a lofty and esteemed effort worthy of such consideration, but given what passes for comedy and humor nowadays, all things being relative, "Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle" is certain genius.

Even if it does celebrate the sub-culture of drug use and the side effects reported to result: The munchies.

(Aside: Because it has previously been brought to my attention that readers of this effort often do not live in the United States of America, a certain set phrases and terms may not be known and use of them herein may go to cause confusion and displeasure; beyond the normal limits my writings are known to provoke. Therefore, a quick class on such things: 'Munchies' are an unexplainable desire to eat after using such things as pot. What one eats as a result of having the munchies is wide and far-ranging, and may result in a variety of problems, especially if one is inclined to eat greens and consumes a fern or something akin. 'White Castle' is a well-known burger stand in the U.S. of A. that sells a small burger known as a 'slider', which takes its name from its ability to slide down one's throat with little or no effort. Given the small nature of this burger they are sold by the bag, understandably. Put together with the munchies White Castle and its burgers have something of a reputation for appealing to those who are given to life in the sub-culture of drug use. Specifically, college students.)

"Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle" is about two guys named Harold & Kumar, college roommates, who go to White Castle to get sliders. Why? Because they have been smoking pot and got hungry as a result.

Now one might not think this premise, superficially, not funny. But when you take two guys almost anyone can relate to, and put them into a road trip situtation, well, things go from dull to very funny in less time than it takes to score drugs.

Harold Lee (John Cho) is a serious, shy, Korean-American accountant. Kumar Patel (Kal Penn) an Indian-American, is antithetical to Harold: A party animal whose parents think he is on the verge of enrolling in medical school, and making them proud. Now he would be doing this, but the college dean, Fred Willard, has other ideas and opinions on the matter.

Harold and Kumar are getting stoned one night when a commercial for the aforementioned White Castle comes on the television and gives them ideas. (Aside: Thank God for small miracles. Can you imagine what would have happened had the ad been for Viagra? Perish the thought.)

Kumar, the leader of the pack, is convinced there is a White Castle near where they live, in New Jersey. But he can't remember the specifics of where and how to find it. Of course, if there were, the odds are not good, at this moment, either of them could find it, given neither of them seems to be in a mental state that allows them to find themselves. Regardless, off they go, on a road trip that makes the antics and adventures of another pair of potheads, Cheech and Chong, look sane in comparison.

They meet a man named Freakshow (Christopher Meloni), then they pick up a hitchhiker who looks exactly like Neil Patrick Harris. Of course there is a reason why he looks exactly like Neil Patrick Harris: He is Neil Patrick Harris. A big movie star? Sure, why not? And why not? when he steals Harold's car. Someone has to ask him 'Dude, Where's My Car?' It's a joke, y'see, for the director, Danny Leiner, who previously directed "Dude, Where's My Car?"

The jokes are often lame, cliched and worn, the acting isn't the best, the action is predictable, the gags stale, but Harold and Kumar are somehow, someway, fun and enjoyable.

They are so, I suggest, because enough people know these two from other moments in real life. Consequently, this movie will do well at the box office. Well enough, I hold, that it is very like a sequel or two will follow.

Now there's something to think about. Sober.

About the Author:

James C. Hess graduated from the University of Colorado at Boulder, where he earned a Bachelor's Degree in English Literature, with an emphasis on Editorial Journalism and Film Studies.

Hess currently makes his home along the Front Range of the Colorado Rockies.

Article courtesy of http://www.suite101.com.