BIG NAME BLAND. The combined talents of (from left) Morgan Freeman, Michael Douglas, Robert De Niro and Kevin Kline are not enough to lift Last Vegas above forgettable holiday fluff. Picture: Supplied.
Sadly though, Last Vegas is very much a case of reputation outstripping refinement, as what director Jon Turteltaub has delivered is essentially a Spring Break party movie for pensioners.
This should not, perhaps, come as a great surprise as Turteltaub is the man to blame for all three National Treasure films (yes, there’s another on the way).
The slight plot here involves lifelong friends Billy (Douglas), Paddy (De Niro), Archie (Freeman) and Sam (Kline) heading to Vegas to throw a bachelor party for Billy, who’s marrying a woman slightly less than half his age. All four are struggling to come to terms with their mortality, and letting loose in Sin City doesn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.
Paddy is the exception – he still carries emotional baggage from a decades old disagreement and can’t let go of the memory of his late wife.
Entirely predictable scenarios ensue as the quartet of antiquated protagonists get up to mischief, spending wads of cash on everything from booze to new clothes.
A lounge singer (Mary Steenburgen) of similar vintage is welcomed into their group where she adds to the friction by being terribly likeable and arousing all sorts of complex feelings in a couple of the old codgers.
On the plus side (though it destroys any chance of the piece being able to trade on edginess of any sort), Last Vegas leaves the worst of the toilet humour that usually afflicts such projects to one side, allowing its central characters to at least head in the direction of depth with the occasional emotive musing on getting old.
That omission being a strength, however, underlines how little impact the film makes in other areas.
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