In a spooky twist of fate, the same day that I watch Home Alone, Disney announces that this winter will see the release of Home Sweet Home Alone, a big budget sixth(!) entry in the Home Alone franchise. I’m cautiously excited by this news as the cast will feature some comedic actors I really admire, including Rob Delaney and Aisling Bea, though I’m also alarmed that this series already has five movies in it, whereas I’d only heard of three and that at least one of those was awful. I steel myself and dive on in.
Home Alone 2: Lost in New York is, thankfully, just as enjoyable as I remember. Chris Columbus and John Hughes’s 1992 movie is the prototypical mega-successful sequel that’s smart enough to know not to try and reinvent the wheel. The team go bigger, they go dafter and it’s a lot of laughs, but a bit same-y. I get it – the formula of part one was so fantastically successful that they’re happy just to do it all over again but this time giving Kevin the whole of New York to play in.
If you thought part one’s set-up was dubious, how Kevin gets to NYC on his lonesome this Christmas stretches the limits of plausibility to breaking point, though by this stage we know the score. It’s dumb, but as with part one, they do put admirable effort into explaining how this kid could end up alone on the wrong flight and then get checked into a hotel room all without the aid of an adult.
Critics may have bemoaned that this one really just superimposes all the best bits from part one onto a bigger, more expensive backdrop but when the big box of slapstick goodies tastes this good, you can’t complain too much. Luckily, the new bits also work pretty well. Tim Curry and Rob Schneider are hilarious as the fey, incompetent hoteliers who are merrily hoodwinked by Culkin’s mischievous chewing gum-tipping rascal.
Brilliantly, the booby-trap filled climax is even more elaborate this time too. They manage to get the balance of sadistic violence and cartoonish silliness just right, as poor Harry and Marv get electrocuted, drenched in paint, clocked with a drainpipe, blasted with a nail-gun and more. The film also cheekily acknowledges its re-hashing of part one’s plot by having the thieves realise they’ve been through all this before, trying to second guess their teeny tormentor and underestimating the kid to hilarious, painful effect.
Lost in New York is an obvious sequel that doesn’t take too many risks, but unlike a lot of part 2s, it doesn’t feel just like soulless money-grabbing. There’s still plenty to enjoy here from a film that respects its audience, gives them value for money and is clever enough to go bigger, dumber and funnier even if it offers very few surprises.
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