Alright fellow tapeheads, let’s rewind to a time when the concept of “diminishing returns” was practically a genre unto itself, especially when it came to comedy sequels. Slide that worn-out cassette into the VCR, maybe smack the side of the machine once for good luck, and prepare yourself for the sun-drenched, logic-defying lunacy that is Weekend at Bernie's II (1993). If the original film stretched plausibility thinner than Bernie Lomax’s pulse, this one gleefully snaps it, sprinkles it with voodoo powder, and asks it to dance the conga.
Somehow, someone decided the world needed more adventures with insurance bros Larry Wilson (Jonathan Silverman) and Richard Parker (Andrew McCarthy) dragging their deceased boss around. You almost have to admire the sheer audacity. Where the first film was a dark-ish comedy built on a single, increasingly ludicrous premise, the sequel felt like someone threw darts at a board covered in “tropical vacation tropes” and “outlandish plot devices.” Voodoo curses? Sure! Hidden treasure? Why not! Bernie… dancing? Absolutely essential!
So, About That Voodoo...
The plot, such as it is, kicks off right after the first film. Larry and Richard, having failed to convince anyone Bernie was murdered and being fired for losing the embezzled $2 million, are desperate. Enter a voodoo priestess (played with gusto by Novella Nelson) hired by Bernie’s disgruntled former business associates. Their goal? Use voodoo to make Bernie lead them to the stolen cash, hidden somewhere in the Virgin Islands. Of course, the ritual goes slightly awry (understatement of the decade), accidentally animating Bernie’s corpse only when music plays. Yes, you read that right. Bernie becomes a weekend puppet master’s ultimate challenge, prone to busting a move whenever a catchy tune hits the airwaves.
This central gimmick is where Terry Kiser truly earns his paycheck all over again. While the first film required him to master the art of lifeless flopping, this time he’s tasked with being rhythmically lifeless. It’s a bizarre form of physical comedy, a testament to the actor’s commitment to embodying a dancing cadaver. Remember those scenes where Bernie gets dragged underwater or leads a conga line? That's pure, unadulterated Kiser, performing stunts that were reportedly even more demanding than the first film, all while maintaining that signature rictus grin. Forget CGI – this was raw, practical corpse-puppetry, and honestly, there’s a weird kind of genius to it.
Island Antics and 90s Vibes
Writer-director Robert Klane, who penned the original (and also wrote the novel Where's Poppa?, later a cult film directed by Carl Reiner), returned to helm this sequel. Doubling down on the absurdity seems to have been his primary directive. Filmed on location in St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands, the scenery is gorgeous, providing a vibrant backdrop for the escalating chaos. The shift from the Hamptons to the Caribbean allows for a whole new set of ridiculous situations – underwater treasure hunts, encounters with hapless villains (including a game Barry Bostwick as an insurance investigator), and, naturally, plenty of calypso-fueled corpse choreography.
Silverman and McCarthy slip back into their roles easily enough, their chemistry still the anchor amidst the madness. They play the exasperation well, constantly reacting to the sheer impossibility of their situation. It’s a thankless task, essentially playing straight men to a dead guy, but they lean into the film’s inherent silliness. You get the sense they knew exactly what kind of movie they were making. This wasn't destined for critical acclaim; it was aiming squarely for the Friday night rental crowd, hoping the name recognition and promise of more Bernie-based slapstick would be enough.
Let's be honest, the voodoo plotline hasn't aged particularly well, leaning heavily on stereotypes that feel distinctly uncomfortable through a modern lens. It was a product of its time, where broad cultural caricatures were often played for easy laughs in mainstream comedies. But viewed through that specific 90s filter, it’s part of the film’s strange, time-capsule identity.
Was It Worth Another Weekend?
Critically? Absolutely savaged. Financially? It made back its roughly $7 million budget, pulling in about $12 million, but that was a significant drop from the original's surprising $30 million haul. Yet, like so many sequels of the era, Weekend at Bernie's II found a life on VHS and cable. I distinctly remember seeing this bright, goofy cover art staring back at me from the "New Releases" wall at the local video store, a beacon of promised nonsense. Did it deliver? Well, it delivered something.
It lacks the (relative) coherence and darker edge of the first film, opting instead for pure, unadulterated goofball energy. The practical effects, primarily focused on making Kiser move in impossible ways, feel charmingly tangible compared to today’s digital wizardry. There’s a certain commitment to the bit that, while objectively ridiculous, has a weirdly endearing quality for those of us who grew up renting tapes like this.
Rating: 4/10
Justification: The rating reflects that Weekend at Bernie's II is, by most objective measures, not a good film. The plot is nonsensical, the humor often falls flat, and the reliance on the central gimmick wears thin. However, it earns a few points for Terry Kiser's incredible physical commitment, the sheer audacity of its premise, and its undeniable status as a 90s VHS artifact. It delivers exactly the kind of brain-off absurdity promised by its title, elevated slightly by the nostalgic charm of its practical gags and the sun-soaked setting.
Final Thought: It’s the kind of sequel that makes you wonder what was in the water coolers at Hollywood studios in the early 90s, but if you ever need definitive proof that sometimes, just sometimes, a corpse can carry a movie (literally), pop this tape in – just make sure you’ve got some good music playing.