- Posted by Lin Wilder
- On November 19, 2013
- 0 Comments
- movies, writing
Take Michael Douglas, Morgan Freeman, Robert De Niro and Kevin Kline, add a pinch or two of a mediocre screenplay and mix.
The result: Two hours of pure entertainment; filled with self deprecating humor by these giants of film facing the consequences of age in the film, Last Vegas.
Freeman attempting to accept graciously the anxious ministrations of a concerned son; Kline as he fights a losing battle with his manhood, De Niro, lost in grief at the loss of his wife and Douglas, the sole bachelor of the four-some who accidentally proposes to his 30 year old girl friend.
It should be boring.
At least it should be predictable.
And it should definitely be superficial sentimentality.
But it isn’t.
Any one of these four men can probably take an inaugural address and make it riveting.
Douglas admitting that he cannot understand where the years have gone or how he became trapped in this body of an old man; Kline, saying no to the sexual advances of the 20 something offering the sexual fantasy he has been anticipating for the entire weekend, De Niro, realizing that although his beloved wife is gone, he has more life to live.
If this all sounds banal, it is because my words fail to capture the tenderness, the poignancy and the universality of four men, (who happen tp be great actors) deciding to meet in Vegas for just one final bash.
I am not a fan of Las Vegas; I have been there many times since we moved to Nevada. This film captures the thrill and the unique experience that is Las Vegas in with perfection…better than being there.