Last Vegas (2013) | Film Review

(Originally published on Letterboxd on Jan 10, 2014) - What do you get when you take four well respected actors in the twilight of their careers, and cast them in an undemanding fish out of water story? You get, Last Vegas, a film so uninspired and trite, I've had to work overtime to remember enough about it so that I may write this very review.

Michael Douglas, Robert De Niro, Morgan Freeman, and Kevin Kline are Billy, Paddy, Archie, and Sam (respectively), otherwise known as the Flatbush Four. When Billy, the charismatic leader of the group, decides its time to settle down and marry his hot young wife of nearly forty years his junior while in the middle of a eulogy for his bedridden bachelor friend, Ronnie, it's not long before he's calling on his longtime friends to join him in Sin City to live up his remaining days as a bachelor. Sam and Archie are immediately on board; Sam has been trapped in a Florida retirement village, surrounded by death at every turn, while Archie is treated like a child by his over-protective son after recently suffering from a stroke. They don't want a wild vacation—they need it. Paddy, a widower, is a different story, requiring a lot of coaxing from his friends before finally agreeing to go. Much of Paddy's hesitance is in relation to a unknown beef he has with Billy. 

Eventually the four meet up in Vegas, run into a lounge singer named Diana (Mary Steenburgen), and blah, blah, blah. This movie is so un-involving and boring, that even writing a summary of events is putting me to sleep, so let's just cut to the chase.

Is Last Vegas a good movie? Technically, yes it is. The performances are all adequate, the direction and pacing are solid. With the exception of one awkwardly filmed bikini contest scene that more resembled MTV Spring Break footage rather than a film—despite the contest being strictly for the attendees and not broadcast on television—Last Vegas looks and feels like a quality film. The problem is with the script. For a film stacked with talent from top to bottom, there is nothing remotely interesting for said talent to do. The story is predictable, and leans heavily on its stars playing to type, rather than their actual acting talent. 
While it seems like it should be no problem for us to get lost in Kevin Kline's childlike expressions and charm, or Morgan Freeman's "awe shucks" routine, or Robert De Niro's angry tough guy, or Michael Douglas' bright-eyed playboy, it actually is, because it's what these guys are known for. It's their type. And because of that, it's difficult to actually believe anything you're seeing play out. It renders the jokes and the sentiment hollow, and that's a shame.

And let's not forget the overarching thrust of the story—these guys are like, really old, with death creeping up on them not so "ever so slowly" anymore. We're constantly reminded of how old they are, that when Morgan Freeman launches into a drunken ramble of near epic proportions, it's funny, and cute, and a reminder that he'll likely be dead soon, and isn't that sad? It's even in the title of the film: Last Vegas—directly referencing that this just might be their last hooray not only together as friends, but for the actors themselves, casting an I'm sure unintentional somber undertone throughout—sort of odd for what's supposed to be a feel-good comedy.

Last Vegas asks nothing of its cast, its audience, or itself as a film. It just sort of exists, waiting to die alone in its bed, kind of like Ronnie, who's death ironically inspired the trip in the first place. Too bad it couldn't do the same for the filmmakers. Oh well. You'll be forgotten in thirty minutes, Last Vegas.