REVIEW: ’72 Hours’ Is The Pinnacle Of Streaming Slop

I have to imagine the 72 Hours started out with some amount of passion or sincerity. Or at least the desire to make a decent movie. But the Netflix Original comedy is the epitome of everything the era of streaming slop has cursed filmmaking with. The Tim Story-directed Kevin Hart vehicle is unfunny nonsense that feels generated by a machine to overstuff itself with things another machine thought would be funny to a fully automated audience.

Joe (Kevin Hart) is a creative exec whose boss doesn’t think he has the ability to connect with Gen Z consumers. He’s probably right. Joe is also in some weird situation with his girlfriend (Teyana Taylor) over whether they’re getting married or not, because they’re both terrible communicators. Then Joe gets added to a group text by mistake that invites him to join a bachelor party in Miami. He goes, making his girlfriend mad, but hoping it’ll give him some authentic material to use in his ad campaign.

The generational differences banter doesn’t work if the actors aren’t even playing their own generations.

It’s actually almost impressive how bad every single scene is in 72 Hours. Nearly every joke falls flat, Hart’s presence is completely overpowering, and the rest of the cast is a mess of SNL actors too old for their roles and performing in a completely different movie. While Hart is bouncing off of every wall at all times, the bachelor, Mason’s (Mason Gooding) party crew is lifeless. With Marcello Hernández, Kam Patterson, and Ben Marshall, it feels like you’ve turned to a bad SNL sketch every time the movie cuts to them.

72 Hours is supposed to be premised on how nobody understands Gen Z. It’s clear that the movie’s four writers and more than a dozen producers don’t understand them very well either. The bachelor party is played by a group of actors in their late 20s and early 30s. Half of them are barely eligible for Gen Z consideration, and the other half simply are not. Marcello Hernández shouldn’t be calling Kevin Hart “unc” as an insult; a 14-year-old should be calling him “unc.” It comes across as tone deaf as it does unfunny.

72 Hours almost makes a few good points, but they’re always ruined by insincerity or bad punchlines.

The main point the movie wants to make, which is somewhat fair, is that Gen Z is more sensitive and less interested in technology than their elders. But that’s not really true. Especially older members of Gen Z, like these characters are supposed to be, have a pretty similar relationship to emotions and technology as their Millennial counterparts. It’s really more of a Gen Alpha and younger Gen Z thing to dunk on technology, and Kevin Hart isn’t even a Millennial; he’s just playing a character half a decade younger than himself.

But really, the fact that I’m even getting hung up on this “what generation do you belong to and what stereotypes does that mean you fit” train of thought is the entire problem with the movie. Who cares? It’s not fun to watch a bunch of people play younger characters than they are, making fun of older people or younger people for how they are as a group.

There are scant moments when a salient point is made. It’s nice that this friend group is more into physical momentos of their relationship than a digital archive. It’s nice that when they fight, they actually say what they mean and want to heal, as opposed to Joe, who just yells and makes a fool of himself. But every nice thread is pulled straight out by a bad joke or a lack of apparent sincerity behind it.

72 Hours is a roulette of uninspired prompts with no good jokes to back it up.

There’s also the whole side of 72 Hours about how Joe accidentally steals cocaine, does some, becomes a racist caricature, and gets into multiple violent altercations throughout the movie in slow-motion action scenes. The action is fine; it’s passable but rarely entertaining, especially given the obtuse context around it every time. The level of elevation these situations approach would be comical, if there were any good jokes being made, as opposed to the lifeless dialogue offered instead. 

72 Hours could have been a perfectly fine, maybe even a good movie about the lessons two generations can learn from one another while getting into some hijinks. That’s a nice concept on paper. But this movie is a roulette of uninspired prompts with no good jokes to back it up. It’s the epitome of streaming slop: a solid cast with half a location and a decent premise completely ruined by painting by the numbers and cheapening out on real quality.

72 Hours is streaming now, exclusively on Netflix.