Last Vegas isn’t nearly as alcohol besotted as it needs to be in order to be The Hangover. Nor, for that matter, is it grumpy enough to be Grumpy Old Men. And while we’re at it, it’s not nearly wild enough to be Wild Hogs, either.
All three of those hit comedies (from 2009, 1993 and 2007, respectively, in case anyone has forgotten) were clearly reference materials for the makers of this aging buddy/road comedy, which could have been and probably should have been more accurately titled Jokes about Elderly Aches, Pains and Complaints: The Movie.
And yes, that means we get more than 100 minutes’ worth of gags and bits about elderly sexual and other dysfunctional things we’d rather not know. Yet it’s not lowbrow enough to be completely tasteless and/or outrageous. It’s a bit twee and cutesy in places – almost as if the filmmakers were afraid to offend the geriatric target demographic. So they may wind up being bored instead.
To be fair, Last Vegas is at least better than one of the aforementioned movies (the one with comedy killers Tim Allen and John Travolta). It certainly isn’t unlikeable and it does have its share of watchable moments. The formerly A-list cast alone makes sure of that. But considering the careers and pedigrees of the main stars, you can’t help wishing that it were a better and funnier film.
Michael Douglas stars as Billy, a wealthy sixty-something bachelor who’s finally decided to settle down. He’s proposed to his much-younger girlfriend (Bre Blair), and is planning to get hitched in a hurry in Las Vegas.
Seizing the opportunity to escape from their humdrum lives, Billy’s childhood pals Archie (Morgan Freeman) and Sam (Kevin Kline) decide to throw him The Bachelor Party to End All Bachelor Parties in Sin City. However, there’s at least one fly in the ointment: Another buddy, widower Paddy (De Niro), is refusing to go. Apparently he’s still bearing a grudge against Billy for some perceived transgression.
From there, things go almost exactly as you expect them to. A few tears are shed, grudges are forgotten, some inhibitions are shed, new loves are found (Mary Steenburgen shows up as a lounge singer who comes between two of the friends) and precious little is broken. And no, not even hips, in case you’re wondering.
Of course, that is what you come to expect with a screenwriter (Dan Fogelman; Cars, The Guilt Trip) and director (Jon Turteltaub; Disney’s The Kid, National Treasure) who are semi-competent at times and rarely, if ever, have any surprises up their respective sleeves.
Instead, they leave the heavy lifting up to their actors. Of the bunch, it’s Freeman who appears to be having the most fun with this nonsense. And surprisingly, it’s Kevin Kline – at 66, the Spring Chicken of this bunch – who is the butt of most of the lower-grade jokes. (His character’s wife, played by Joanna Gleason, has given him a “hall pass” for the trip.)
Truth be told, we’d much rather be watching those two underdeveloped characters than the self-obsessed jerks played by Douglas and De Niro. In particular, the latter seems uninspired and lethargic. But, given how he trudged merrily along through three increasingly awful “Fockers” movies, you’d expect him to show a little more professionalism than this.
Jeff Michael Vice can also be heard reviewing films, television programs, comics, books, music and other things as part of The Geek Show Podcast (www.thegeekshowpodcast.com), and can be seen reviewing films as part of Xfinity’s Big Movie Mouth-Off (www.facebook.com/BigMovieMouthOff).