Or “The Hangover: The College Edition”—and totally abysmal. Written and directed by the duo who scripted that huge thirty-something binge comedy, this gross, stupid younger version is the pits in every respect.

Miles Teller and Skylar Astin play Miller and Casey, old high-school buddies who travel to fictional Northern Pacific University to surprise the third member of their old trio, Jeff Chang (Justin Chon) on his twenty-first birthday. Though he explains he has an important med school interview the next morning and his martinet father is in town to see that he keeps it, his friends insist on taking him out for a celebratory drink, which of course turns into a nightlong orgy. Chang (or Jeff Chang, as the other two insist on calling him all the time, though it’s never explained why) winds up totally blotto, and Miller and Casey are soon carting him about like the corpse from “Weekend at Bernie’s,” trying to find out where his apartment’s located so they can get him there by morning.

That sets the stage for a series of supposedly comic episodes, equally slapsticky and crass. There’s the usual quota of potty humor, dick jokes, purportedly humorous violence, coarse language and nudity, all accompanied by rock and hip-hop on the soundtrack and interrupted periodically by a halting romance between Casey and a smart sorority chick (Sarah Wright). It would be a hopeless brew under the best of circumstances, but made much worse by the fact that the characters are such feeble stereotypes. Chang is basically a rag-doll, and you have to feel sorry for the various humiliations Chon must suffer in the part. Miller and Casey get humiliated too, in a sequence in which they’re stripped and spanked by a bunch of angry Latina girls, but it’s hard to feel concern for either of them. Casey is supposedly the nice level-headed one, but as played by Astin, who’s as bland as Bradley Cooper, he’s an utter bore. Anyway, if he had the slightest degree of intelligence, he’d have nothing whatever to do with Miller, an irritating, self-centered motormouth whom you want to strangle when he first appears and loathe more and more with every passing moment. Teller might be a likable fellow in real life, but here he’s pretty much insufferable, and even worse in those inevitable “warmhearted” moments when Miller shows his soft side and we’re meant to find him sympathetic. Near the end of “21 & Over,” Casey has what passes for a bright idea here and exclaims to Miller, “We’re officially the two biggest morons in the history of the world!” That’s an exaggeration, but only a slight one.

And what’s the message the movie imparts at the close? That friendship is important and young people have to be themselves—which apparently means remaining infantile forever. Certainly these three bozos appear to embrace that idea.

Everybody else in the cast is encouraged to play their parts as broadly as possible, which gives the whole thing a strident, hammer-to-the-head feel that quickly becomes oppressive. The technical side of things, though mediocre, is still far better than the material warrants.

One last point: why is it that filmmakers so regularly have villainous characters (like Chang’s father, played by Francois Chau—and innumerable super-villains in other movies) listening to Mozart all the time, as if that were some sign of malignance? Please, stop abusing Amadeus as a clumsy shorthand in your lousy pictures.