Prologue to the review: leave the children at home. This is not a morality tale, and it makes no apologies. This is a very, very R-rated film, and should not be viewed by anyone who is offended by vomiting, gunfire, inappropriate caricatures of police officers, urination, frighteningly ugly butt cheeks, shamefully light views of animal abuse, child abuse, and drug abuse, drunk driving, arson — well, you get the idea.

The Hangover is a modern-day odyssey of hedonism, taking all the spectacular tales of Vegas that are true, semi-true, and outright fantastic and rolling them up into a film that is the polar opposite of Steel Magnolias.

The storytelling format is clever and plays out well. Reservoir Dogs was unique in that it was the first heist movie that showed everything but the heist. This is the first wild party movie that shows everything but the wild party. There’s the reality — a wild night of drunken irresponsibility is a blast, actually watching a bunch of drunken losers destroy things and puke all over the place is just kind of sad and ooky. Rather, The Hangover starts off with a bachelor party made up of the groom and his three companions, who represent the divisions of the male brain: Id, Ego, and Nine Year Old Idiot Boy.

Id and Ego (we’ll call them that because the characters’ real names are utterly unmemorable) are the groom’s two oldest friends. Nine Year Old Idiot Boy is the bride’s brother, and nobody seems eager to have him come along. Because Id is in charge and Nine Year Old Idiot Boy has been set free like a loose cannon firing drugs and alcohol, all Ego can do is stand by and scream in confusion, especially when they wake up in the morning and the groom has gone missing, the pimped-out suite is trashed, and all manner of fallout starts raining down.

Because of the fast paced action and gag-a-minute antics, it’s easy to overlook the strong contributions made by the cinematography, set dressing, costuming and props. The film’s visual look is just as much a character as the off kilter doofuses that propel the tale. Every frame is a storytelling treasure trove. In every scene is some hint to what happened the night before, but the viewer is left to imagine the details. Where did the massive pyramid of beer bottles come from? Why is there a chicken in the suite? Why is the armchair on fire? Most of the details of the night are never filled in, and the fun is that they don’t need to be. We get to imagine the story, fleshing out the tale with our own adventures, real and imagined.

Ed Helms turned in the strongest acting performance as Ego, with Bradley Cooper playing a respectable but not stellar Id. Zach Galifianakis is nearly great as Nine Year Old Idiot Boy, but he ultimately lacks the charisma of a truly great clown. In the end, he comes off as a low energy autistic version of Jack Black. Two supporting roles shine out — Heather Graham as a happy-go-lucky hooker and Ken Jeong in a show-stealing bit part as a disgruntled, pantsuited gambler. Not surprisingly, women are given the most marginal and one-dimensional treatment. The bride, who provides the motive for getting Our Heroes back to civilization, is pretty and utterly unforgettable, and Ego’s girlfriend, played by the delightfully bitchy Rachael Harris, does a serviceable job of representing the top reasons men break up with harpy girlfriends.

Ultimately (and predictably) the adventurers make it back to civilization, and just like Penelope took back Odysseus, no questions asked, somehow the groom doesn’t get dumped and everyone lives to tell the tale. Stand and Deliver it ain’t — but the whole of the film is much greater than the sum of the parts, and The Hangover will not disappoint for those seeking to gratify the deep-rooted immaturity that none of us, no matter how much we grow up, will ever be able to let go of.