LAST VEGAS (2013, Jon Turteltaub)

 

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These guys might be old, but that doesn’t mean they can’t still party! Specifically, by heading to Vegas after the last bachelor among the group finally gets engaged.

Starring  Michael Douglas, Robert De Niro, Morgan Freeman, Kevin Kline, Mary Steenburgen

Written by  Dan Fogelman

Produced by  Laurence Mark, Nathan Kahane, Amy Baer, Matt Leonetti   

Duration  105 minutes

   

Here we go: oldies doing youthful things movies. Did Clint Eastwood’s SPACE COWBOYS (2000) popularise the trend? Or was it Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas with TOUGH GUYS in 1986?

No, wait, there was GOING IN STYLE back in 1979 (also remade in 2017), which is part of the ‘pensioners pull a caper’ sub-genre – see also KING OF THIEVES, THE HATTON GARDEN JOB, THE LOVE PUNCH, GOLDEN YEARS, etc.

Whichever way you cut it, these films are comparatively rare; the older crowd isn’t traditionally catered to by Hollywood and its four-quadrant obsession. This despite the fact that pensioners go to the movies a lot – I know if I was retired, I'd be going two or three times a day. But the success of CALENDAR GIRLS and then those MARIGOLD HOTEL pictures seemed to make something click in studio boardrooms, and we were suddenly inundated with attempts to snag the ‘grey dollar’.

The trend was at its peak when LAST VEGAS came out in 2013, sandwiched as it was between the two MARIGOLD films. I’d need to have seen more of these things to accurately benchmark VEGAS against its peers but, judged on its own merits, it's serviceable enough.

Failing to act their age this time are Michael Douglas (69 at the time of filming), Robert De Niro (70), Morgan Freeman (76), and Kevin Kline ('the baby' at 66 – although none of them are as young as Mary Steenburgen's 60, so they still managed to keep the female love interest younger, as is par for the course).

The film opens by leaning heavily into nostalgia with a quick flashback. You got the kids cast for their resemblance to our stars, crammed into a photo booth for a montage of snaps over the credits. You got the four friends standing up for each other in the face of older greasers, soundtracked to ’50s pop. You got a glimpse of a rivalry between young De Niro and young Douglas.

Then: bam! Fast-forward fifty-eight years. Kline is taking part in water aerobics while quipping about how close to death everyone around him is. Freeman has an overprotective son, or it might have been grandson, that scene was kind of rushed. De Niro falls asleep in front of daytime TV and dodges his Millennial neighbour’s attempts to set him up with her grandmother. Michael Douglas is wildly successful, judging by his Malibu beachside home and bikini-clad 30-something partner (what a shocker: the evidently proud sex-addict Douglas is playing the lothario), and it is he for whom the Vegas stag do that gets the four back together is organised. 

The music starts to sound like David Holmes' score for OCEAN'S ELEVEN; the oldies struggle with their suitcases, their rented cars and navigating flights of stairs; De Niro kills five minutes of screentime in post-MEET THE PARENTS curmudgeon mode with his reluctance to join the party; and before you can say "Let's have another joke about old people living in Florida", we're in Vegas ( ... baby)!

In terms of an actual plot, beyond just stretching an amused-with-itself setup to feature length, only the abovementioned De Niro/Douglas tension really qualifies – and I'll give writer Dan Fogelman credit for not making it turn out to stem from the latter stealing the former’s girl, despite likely pressure from Douglas at the scripting phase. Kline spends the film trying to pick up younger women, having been given a free pass by his wife (until, inevitably his conscience intervenes), and Freeman cuts lose on the games of chance now that he is unshackled from his mollycoddling son/grandson.

Other than that, it's mostly a series of comic set pieces: the gang judging a bikini contest; that curly haired DJ bloke from LMFAO gyrating his crotch in Robert De Niro's face; the oldies blagging their way into VIP areas; dancing to EDM drunk on vodka Red Bulls; Turtle from Entourage being an asshole, then getting his comeuppance when the old guys pretend to be aged Mafia bosses on the warpath. You get the idea.

Best in show actually turns out to be Steenburgen, whose lounge singer/Vegas chaperone contributes a wry and charming energy, although Fogelman could have done with gifting her some dialogue that goes beyond reactionary one-liners.

It's the kind of film that was made for half-watching on a Sunday afternoon. It doesn't demand too much from the viewer, so it would be churlish to demand too much from it.

Three stars out of five.

Valid use of the word ‘last’?  Everyone had a good time and successfully completed their story arcs, so that's probably it for trips to the gambling Nirvana in Navada.

What would a movie called FIRST VEGAS be about?  Obviously if you go back too far, it’s just a town in the middle of the desert. Probably better to think of the 1960s/70s, the era of Frank Sinatra or DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER: plenty of gambling, but not yet full-on gaudiness.

Previously:  THE LAST SUPPER

Next time:  LAST FLAG FLYING

Check out my books:  Jonathanlastauthor.com

LAST KNIGHTS (2015, Kazuaki Kiriya)

 

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Forced to execute his beloved master, a noble warrior dedicates his life to fighting back against the corrupt and sadistic ruler who put him in that fateful position.

Starring  Clive Owen, Morgan Freeman, Cliff Curtis, Aksel Hennie, Peyman Moaadi

Written by  Michael Konyves, Dove Sussman

Produced by  Luci Kim   

Duration  115 minutes   

 

(Ring ring, ring ring)

(Crunch crunch)  "Hello?"

"Oh, hello. Am I speaking to Mr Clive Owen?"

(Crunch crunch)  "Yeah."  (Crunch crunch)  "Who’s this, then?"

"This is Morgan Freeman."

"Actual Morgan Freeman?"  (Crunch crunch, swallow)  "Really?"

"Yes, really, Clive. How are you?"

"Fucking hell, I mean, hold on a sec."  (Beat)  "Sorry Morgan, I was just watching the footie and munching on some Doritos."

(Chuckles)  "Ah yes, you Cockneys and your association soccer."

"Ha, actually I’m from Coventry, mate. In the Midlands?"

"Is that so? You know, Clive, I recall that when we were shooting THE DARK KNIGHT RISES, Christian, Tom and Michael would often watch Fox Soccer between setups."

"Oh yeah? Nolan as well?"

"No, Christopher was usually busy, chatting to Wally about the lighting or whatnot. Anyway, at the time, they were broadcasting a documentary series on Liverpool Footballing Club, narrated by yours truly."

"Yeah, that was me. Liverpool, they’re my team, mate." 

"So, you’re one of those ... ‘Scousers’? Like John Lennon?"

(Chuckles)  "No, Coventry’s nowhere near Liverpool."

"Oh, but I thought you Englishmen had a ‘support your nearest franchise’ attitude to sports?"

"Er, yeah, well ... um ... Listen, sorry Morgan mate, but how can I help you exactly?"

"Sorry, Clive, I’ll cut to the chase. I'm calling about this script my agent has given me, THE LOST KNIGHT."

"Oh yeah, right. No, I think it’s actually called LAST KNIGHT ... I think."

"Oh, I see, right."

"Like ABOUT LAST NIGHT, but I don’t think we’re gonna be seeing Demi Moore or Rob Lowe in it. Yeah, I just got off the phone with my own agent about booking me onto a Czech Airlines flight."

"So then, what I’m told is true and you’re attached?"

"Right, yeah I am, that’s right. Are you doing it and all?"

"Well, this is why I’m calling you and interrupting your soccer, Clive. Sorry, ‘football’."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes, I’d like to talk about the script. I can’t make my mind up about whether I should do this movie or not. I have a few questions – would it be any bother if I ran through them with you, Clive?"

"No, Morgan mate, no bother at all. Go for it. It’s half-time now, anyway."

"Clive, I'm much obliged. So, would I be right in assuming that you’re taking the lead role, this character ‘Raiden’?"

"Raiden, yeah that’s the fellah. Like off of that arcade game, MORTAL KOMBAT, the geezer with the hat that did the lightning. You remember that game, Morgan?"

"No, Clive, I'm afraid I do not."

"‘Finish him!’"

"I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about."

(Chuckles)  "Never mind."

"So can I just ask, Clive."

"Anything, Morgan mate, anything."

"What attracted you to the part? And the script in general?"

(Exhales)  "Well, I did KING ARTHUR back in the day and that was a bit of a laugh. Riding on a horse and swinging a sword about and that. Plus, I’ve never been to the Czech Republic and it’ll make a change from bloody Bulgaria, where they film everything these days."

"True, Clive, so true."

"Did you know there's a nightclub in Prague with five floors? Apparently, you can get the best absinthe in Europe there. It’s at the end of that bridge they have, what’s it called, the famous one. I dunno."

"I see. But the movie, Clive."

"Oh yeah, right."

"Was there anything about the script that made you think that you have to do this project?"

"Well ... I dunno, really. It seemed alright, from what I can remember. No worse than a lot of the shit that comes my way these days. What’ve you been offered, second lead?"

"Well, it's a character called ‘Bartock’."

"Oh right, yeah. Um, remind me, what’s his deal then?"

"He’s Raiden’s mentor and father figure."

"Oh yeah, right! Don't you get killed off early doors? Wait ... don't I have to stab you to death or something, like under coercion or whatever?"

(Chuckles)  "Yes, I do fall by your hand it would seem. It’s a little unclear as to why, though. I’ve offended someone ... and you’re under some kind of political pressure, as far as I can tell."

"Yeah, I did kinda zone out with all that plot stuff. Lot of bollocks about ‘honour’ and ‘how dare you besmirch my family’ and all that. I started to flick through, searching for the bloody battles!  (Chuckles)  The bloodier the better, as far as I'm concerned!"

"But do you think the audience will be following what's going on?"

"Probably not. They’ll probably be chugging a beer and skipping through to the violent bits, watching the thing at home on Netflix or whatever it’s on."

"I suppose you’re right, Clive. But there is ... something else."

"Oh yeah? Come on Morgan, spit it out mate."

"Well, the main thing I’m worried about is, this movie starts with me doing voiceover. Again!"

"Oh, come up Morgan, everyone loves your voiceovers. Christ, you were like my bloody role model, giving me the confidence to do that one for Liverpool when I wasn't sure I could pull it off. Honestly, mate!"

"That’s very kind, Clive."

"Straight up! Obviously SHAWSHANK and, oh mate, fucking MARCH OF THE PENGUINS? Are you having a laugh? But you know the absolute best for me? WAR OF THE WORLDS. Fucking nailed it, mate."

"I appreciate the kind words. But do you think that audiences are a little ... weary of hearing my voice by now?"

"No way. Never. That’s like asking would I ever get sick of watching Stevie Gerrard bang in 30-yard belters."

"Hmm. I see your point. But, Clive, I know I exit the movie early, but I’m still concerned about how well the rest of the picture will come across. The screenplay is nearly 120 pages and it all seems rather bland and unimaginative; it’s definitely slow and quite confusing at times. I’m just not sure how much –"

(Crunch crunch)  "Mm-hmm, yeah, I see your point, mmm (crunch crunch) ."

"Clive, have you opened another packet of Doritos?"

(Crunch)  "Mmm, yeah, sorry Morgan... they’re those Flaming Hot ones, know what I mean?"  (Crunch crunch)

"I see."

"Look, Morgan  (crunch, swallow) . The second half of the football’s about to start. I'm gonna level with you, mate. I don’t get offered a lot of lead roles these days. It’s not 2006 anymore, and I doubt I’m ever gonna get another Oscar nomination. Fucking should have won it for CLOSER, can't remember which twat beat me to it."

"That would have been me, Clive."

"Oh fuck, was it?"

"Yes, for MILLION DOLLAR BABY."

"Shit, that’s right. Bollocks. And well-deserved too, mate. Shit ... er, sorry about the language."

"That’s quite alright. You still have plenty of time. I was nearly 70 when I finally won that statue, you know."

"Yeah, well like I say, I'm not so sure I’m ever gonna make it onto one of them podiums again. But anyway, so yeah, I open up a script like this THE LAST KNIGHTS or whatever the fuck it’s called, and I think, horses? Swords? Free holiday in Eastern Europe? Fuck it – why not?"

(Beat)

"Clive, just tell me one thing."

(Crunch crunch)  "Morgan mate – anything."

"Did you really say five floors?"

"My cousin was over there for his mate’s stag do ... er, bachelor party. What he actually called the place was, and I’m quoting directly here, he said it was ‘five floors of whores’. Apparently it’s fucking mental. The whole city, in fact."

(Long beat)

"Morgan? You still there, mate?"  (Crunch)

"Clive, I’m going to think all this over, but I reckon I might just be asking you to count me in on that first round of absinthe."

"Ah, that’s the spirit, Morgan mate!"

"Enjoy the rest of your game and good luck to the Liverpool."

"Cheers Morgan, it’s fucking Man U so we need to beat these bastards."

"So long, Clive."

"See you in Prague, mate."  (Crunch crunch)

(Click)

Two stars out of five.

Valid use of the word ‘last’?  Not as such. I didn’t get the impression that there would be no further knights subsequent to the events on show.

What would a movie called FIRST KNIGHTS be about?  What about a double-bill of British writer/director Steven Knight’s first screenplay credits, GYPSY WOMAN (starring Jack Davenport) and DIRTY PRETTY THINGS (Chiwetel Ejiofor, Audrey Tautou)?

Previously:  THE LAST TIME I SAW PARIS

Next time:  STAR WARS: THE LAST JEDI 

Check out my books:  Jonathanlastauthor.com