The fact that this is a sequel doesn't help it to a faster start than its forerunner. It dilly-dallies for over half an hour in the Big City, introducing a new character (Billy Crystal's hapless younger brother Jon Lovitz, taking up a space vacated by Bruno Kirby), and establishing the treadmill rhythm of the comic writing ("I can't believe you two are from the same gene pool." "He's from the shallow end"). Jack Palance, the one good thing about the original, doesn't turn up for an hour, not counting a couple of ghostly apparitions behind dark windows and a Carrie-like, only-a-dream emergence from the grave. When he does turn up, he's an altogether different character, Curly's hitherto unmentioned twin brother Duke (the sort of facile excuse used by a TV soap opera to bring back a favored actor), and not even a Westerner but a seafarer, albeit a comparably tough one: "You ever talk to me like that again, and I'll turn your balls into earrings." Apart from him, the concept of masculinity in the movie consists largely of going all giggly and blushy over anything that smacks remotely of homosexuality: a verbal report of an unfruitful attempt to milk a cow ("The cow's name is Norman. You were pulling on his dick!"); the lip-crinkling prospect of having to suck rattlesnake venom from a pal's rump; the necessity of huddling together in the night for warmth and the horror of waking in the morning to find another's hand on one's warmest spot. Directed by Paul Weiland. (1994) — Duncan Shepherd
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