It’s been a rainy spring in Austin and I’ve been restless staying indoors. As I have become one with the couch, scrolling through streaming services looking for the perfect stoner documentary, I stumbled upon 4×20: Quick Hits, a new anthology series Hulu bills as “highlighting cannabis and the people who love it.” The medium stays true to form with exactly four 20-minute films, each by a “dope director” (kudos to the copywriters for that) and executive produced by Kimmelot (Jimmy Kimmel and Scott Lonker) under the supervision of Adam M. Goldberg.
The first 20-minute “quick hit,” from director Brent Hodge, covers 2004 stoner flick Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle, a cult classic so beloved its title has become its own pop culture reference. The documentary paints a portrait of the film scene at the time, when the only studio comedies being produced were high concept (no pun intended). The screenplay for Harold & Kumar was written by two then-college students named Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg who had been friends since high school and were inspired by their many stoned nights and trips to get donuts. I was immediately inspired to set up a movie night with a buddy to watch the film and go on a whimsical adventure centered around snacks.
The theme of the doc centers around the movie itself as a representation of “the underdog.” Big studio execs at the time would see a script with two Asian American leads and a lot of weed and immediately say no. Actors John Cho (Harold) and Kal Penn (Kumar) recall how, as Asian American actors, the only roles they were playing in the early 2000s were gangsters, nerds, service people, and foreign exchange students. Making these two relative unknowns the leads of the film was a risky move. Even White Castle, the regional burger chain featured in the movie, was an underdog as a brand.
The film was a box office failure that eventually became popular after its DVD release (remember those?). The movie itself went through a kind of quest, much like its main characters, and ultimately became beloved. Over 20 years later, stoner films and actors of color are more mainstream, but I would argue that we still have a long way to go when it comes to representation in studio films. (Not saying I won’t see The Devil Wears Prada 2, but does everything have to be a sequel or a remake?)
The second doc, directed by Kyle Thrash, begins with a startling shot of cannabis activist Dana Beal urinating with his back to the camera. This story centers on High Times, termed at the time “the most dangerous magazine in America.” Of magazine founder Tom Forçade, Beal tells the camera, “He was a cowboy hippie, a First Amendment freedom fighter.” Beal describes marijuana as a demonstration of the power of the people, and speaks reverently of Forçade, who created an underground press syndicate that became a massive network of resistance.
The doc includes archival footage of newspapers recounting one of Forçade’s appearances in court, when he proclaimed, “We are the revolution. These papers are our lives and nobody shall snatch our lives with your fucking laws.” He then declared, “Fuck censorship!” and smashed a pie into the face of a commissioner. High Times was a slap in the DEA’s face and in the Seventies, it was selling hundreds of thousands of magazines with contributions from New York Times and Washington Post journalists writing under pseudonyms. The story ends on a dark note, and reminds me that at the heart of the writing I do here lies a sober truth of the risks and struggles of journalists and advocates like those who worked at High Times. Catch me writing for an underground paper under a fake name if things don’t go our way.
The third mini-doc, this one from Alex Ross Perry (Pavements), asks the question: Can something silly also be revolutionary? This doc tackles the “so bad it’s good” movie Ganjasaurus Rex, a tale of humble weed farmers versus government oppression. Rob Seares, the writer/producer of Ganjasaurus Rex, and Ursi Reynolds (who amusingly says that she will deny being the director of the film until the day she dies), had a low budget and a dream.
“It’s a 1987 stoner sci-fi film that asked the question, What if cannabis and dinosaurs evolved together?” explains Anthony Silvaggio, professor of sociology, Cannabis Studies Department at Cal Poly Humboldt. “Part creature feature, part anti-establishment, part satire of the cannabis community that we live in, and it’s kind of [an] eco-groovy time capsule.” The image of a giant Godzilla grabbing pot out of the ground juxtaposed with a clip of Reagan saying that pot is one of the most dangerous drugs in the United States underscores the absurd contradictions of American life and reminds me that our politics and pop culture have always been intertwined.
The final doc, Todd Kapostasy’s “Bong Voyage,” tells the story of Jason Harris, artist and glassblower – narrated by a bong. I found this to be the most visually striking and emotionally resonant film of the series. Colorful shots of the narrator bong being passed from hand to hand, traveling with Harris to different cities, combine with the narrative of how Harris was part of changing the history of cannabis. “Jason and I have been through it all together,” says the bong, “from smoke-filled living rooms to federal courtrooms.” Harris founded Jerome Baker Designs, named partly after the recently deceased lead guitarist of the Grateful Dead and partly after getting baked, he explains; it went on to become the biggest bong company in the world.
It made my skin crawl to watch the footage of the feds arresting Harris as part of an investigation called Operation Pipe Dreams, and reminded me how serious the question of legalization really is. Harris went on to design a 24-foot bong known as “Bongzilla” for a marijuana museum in Las Vegas, which he describes as his “ultimate piece” and a contribution to a worthy cause.
All four “quick hits” reminded me that stoner culture is much more than getting silly on the couch. These are stories of representation, revolution, and resistance. In my view, the lighthearted anecdotes, mischievous capers, and run-ins with the law serve a greater purpose of protecting our freedom and our access to joy in an ever-darkening world. Or maybe, as John Cho put it, “I’m nostalgic for my own stupidity.”
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This article appears in May 15 • 2026.
