3.5 stars. Rating: PG-13, for sexual candor and occasional profanity
By Derrick Bang
Old pros are a Hollywood
treasure.
They make everything look
effortless, bringing warmth and depth even to ordinary material, transforming
simple scenes into memorable dramatic moments.
 |
| Safely deposited in a trendy Las Vegas hotel/casino, our heroes — from left, Sam (Kevin Kline), Archie (Morgan Freeman), Paddy (Robert De Niro) and Billy (Michael Douglas) — wonder how to begin their "fabulous weekend." As it turns out, a poolside bikini contest will become the perfect ice-breaker. |
The bonus, in the case of Last
Vegas, is that Dan Fogelman’s script isn’t merely The Hangover for the
geezer set; his little story is alternately funny and poignant, with mildly
earthy touches that draw laughs while never straying into vulgarity.
As the cherry on top, we even get
a solid moral: Life ain’t over unless we lay down and give up. Every new day,
no matter what our age, brings the potential for fresh magic and unexpected
delights ... as long as we’re willing to risk the unexpected.
Back in the day, the “Flatbush
Four” were inseparable best friends: scrappy kids convinced that anything was
possible, as long as they looked out for each other. Director Jon Turteltaub
conveys this dynamic with a charming photo booth montage that plays behind the
opening credits: a giddy burst of youthful energy that defines relationships
and, yes, reveals that two of these boys are sweet on the same girl.
Flash-forward to the present day,
and — ennui being inevitable — that enthusiastic youthful fire has dimmed to a
flickering spark. Pulsating embers, if any still exist, are buried beneath
graying ash. These former friends stay in touch, but only fitfully.
Archie (Morgan Freeman),
following an “episode” that sent his adult son into a panic, has been put under
well-meaning but soul-draining lockdown, constantly cautioned against doing
anything more strenuous than picking up a book. Sam (Kevin Kline), although
boasting a long and happy marriage with Miriam (Joanna Gleason), spends his
days surrounded by elderly friends who reaffirm his own vanishing vitality.
A senior center regimen of
swimming pool exercises is both hilarious and tragic, the misery evident in
Sam’s resigned expression. Resigned, but never quiet; Sam isn’t one to suffer
silently ... which makes his despair that much more obvious to Miriam.
Paddy (Robert De Niro) has become
a virtual recluse, refusing to budge from the apartment he shared for so long
with his own adored wife, dead now for a year; the home has become a
photograph-laden tribute to her memory. A well-meaning young neighbor regularly
brings soup, probably as an excuse to verify that he’s still alive; Paddy
grumpily insists she shouldn’t bother.
Billy (Michael Douglas), the most
financially successful of the quartet, has remained single all this time,
perhaps hoping that youth can be retained by surrounding himself with a
lifetime’s supply of willing young women. Now, however, he has impulsively
popped the question to his current girlfriend, Lisa (Bre Blair); she has
accepted.
Their striking age difference —
she’s in her early 30s — raises eyebrows. So do the circumstances under which
the proposal emerges.
Such details aside, Billy wants
to gather the ol' gang for an appropriately boisterous bachelor party. The
wedding has been scheduled for Las Vegas, obviously just the setting for this
potential bacchanalia. Sam and Archie are delighted, the latter concealing his
intentions beneath the cover story of a “church outing.”
Paddy ... not so much. Prying him
out of the apartment is hard enough; even worse is the festering enmity that
has soured his relationship with Billy. Paddy has ample cause for his anger,
but — as happens more than once, in Fogelman’s script — things aren’t quite as
simple as they seem.
Eventually, inevitably, the aging
Flatbush Four assemble in Vegas, Paddy grousing every step of the way. Whatever
is about to happen remains tantalizing but uncertain, our protagonists
bewildered by the mechanics of booking a hotel room, let alone determining how
to uncork a party that’s supposed to be “legendary.”
Salvation arrives in the form of
Diana (Mary Steenburgen), a game but mostly ignored lounge singer. She sparkles
under the appreciative glow of their attention; they loosen up in the presence
of her uncomplicated exuberance.
By which time we, as well, have
been drawn under this film’s spell, fully invested in what comes next.
De Niro, Freeman, Douglas and
Kline work well as a team, generously setting each other up for gently caustic
one-liners and well-timed double-takes. The film makes ample sport of their
fish-out-of-water awkwardness, whether flummoxed by electronically operated
room curtains, or apoplectic over the costs involved with “table service” at a
trendy nightclub.
Vegas is similarly rich with
unusual archetypes, of course, and Fogelman doesn’t miss many ... except,
refreshingly, any intimation of hookers with a heart of gold (or any lesser
metal). This film’s taste runs more toward the pantomiming members of the
Cirque du Soleil troupe from Zarkana,
or the rowdy drag queens from a celebrity impersonation revue: the perfect
foils for an endless wealth of bewildered expressions and self-deprecating
verbal slips and quips from the Flatbush Four.
De Niro still delivers the best
hangdog expression in Hollywood, which Turteltaub encourages but carefully
avoids overusing. Paddy, for all his gripes, turns out to be the serious guy in
this group: the one who cuts to the chase, particularly when it comes to
Billy’s pending nuptials. He and Douglas share a memorable moment during a
quiet, early morning poolside encounter. Paddy’s lingering irritation
notwithstanding, he nonetheless cannot stand to see his onetime best friend
make a mistake ... if, indeed, that’s the case.
The scene has surprising depth
and sincerity: quite unexpected in what is being billed as a raucous,
superficial comedy. It feels like a conversation that would take place between
two men who know each other intimately, their current estrangement
notwithstanding.
Douglas imbues Billy with just
the right splash of superficial bonhomie: the fellow guaranteed to liven up a
party, but bearing a smile that extends no further than his too-bright teeth.
At the same time, Billy obviously teeters on the edge of nervous despair, the
twitchy, often glazed look in Douglas' eyes conveying ... something.
Resignation? Terror? Clearly, Billy isn't a happy guy.
Freeman makes the most of
Archie’s hidden reservoir of debonair dash, always at odds with his quiet,
deceptively meek exterior. Truth is, Archie is virtually giddy with his
newfound freedom, embracing even little things like a kid released from
long-term detention. Nothing is warmer than Freeman’s full-wattage smile, and
his smooth moves are to die for.
Kline, in turn, makes Sam the
mildly fussy smart-aleck, forever covering his insecurities with a joke. Thanks
to a most unexpected gift from his wife, Sam throws himself into the Las Vegas
“experience” ... despite having no clue what that experience really is. He
learns as he goes, and Kline’s athletic grace is employed to marvelous comic
effect, as Sam rebounds from one misunderstanding to another, particular when
the gang encounters a gaggle of young women — April Billingsley’s maid of honor
is a standout — at a nightclub bachelorette party.
Steenburgen, having no business
being so stunning for somebody who just turned 60, literally radiates warmth
and precocious curiosity, as Diana slowly gets a bead on her four new
companions. Her most intimate moments come with Paddy and Billy, both drawn to
her incandescence. I particularly like a quiet scene between Steenburgen and
Douglas, as Diana and Billy wander among a museum display of discarded Las
Vegas neon signs: a clever nod to the old-versus-new undertone that flows
throughout this film.
Jerry Ferrara, well remembered as
Turtle from TV’s Entourage, has a
droll supporting role as Dean, an obnoxious young snot eventually forced, in delicious
fashion, to rue his boorish behavior. Romany Malco is less successful as
Lonnie, the VIP host put in charge of the Flatbush Four. Lonnie’s initial
dismay at this assignment is much too visibly contemptuous, given the graciousness
required of somebody holding such a job, and Malco never quite recovers from
this introduction; he never makes Lonnie sound genuine.
Cinematographer David Hennings
has plenty of fun with Vegas glamour and glitz, and he definitely catches the
atmosphere of the opulent ARIA Resort and Casino, where much of the story’s
action is staged. Mark Mothersbaugh contributes a droll score, although it
would have been nice to hear better defined character themes for each of our
four heroes.
We shouldn’t be surprised by this
film’s touches of poignance and genuine character depth, since Fogelman also wrote
2011’s richly entertaining Crazy, Stupid, Love. He navigates humor and bittersweet
letdowns quite shrewdly, with heartwarming results.
Turteltaub, recently seduced by
the empty, high-concept calories of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice and the National Treasure series, makes a welcome return to the more deftly calibrated
directorial chops he displayed in earlier efforts such as Cool Runnings, While You Were Sleeping and Phenomenon.
Last Vegas is a nice surprise:
a whimsical dramedy certain to please the older viewers at whom it has been
targeted. Sadly, the younger demographic probably won’t go near it, even with
so many bodaciously curvy bikini babes on display. That’s a shame, because the
story’s message is all-ages-appropriate: Embrace the moment.
Which you can do while embracing
this film.
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