Last Vegas is a cynical reminder of exactly how easy it is to write a screenplay when you don’t give a crap about the audience. Take the moment where Sam (Kevin Kline) is handed an envelope at the airport by the wife he’s going away from for a weekend. In the envelope, there’s a Viagra pill, a condom and a message “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” Wow. You went there did you? Ok, well, let me guess the obvious story line, shall I? Ancient Sam goes around waving his Viagra pill and condom to every actionable item on the strip claiming some crap about how he has a “free pass” from marriage, and when he finally gets the opportunity to score, baby, he chickens out, citing love for his understanding wife and preserving the crummy PG-13 rating all in one fell swoop. Am I close?
The surprisingly integrated Flatbush Four (Kline, Michael Douglas, Morgan Freeman and Robert De Niro) were childhood friends in a New York borough apparently free of racial tension or consequences of theft … even when one of the friends works at the place where you’re stealing. I can’t really tell you how wrong that scene feels, so I’ll pop to the present where all the kids are having post-life crises. Kline hates his life, De Niro is still in mourning, Freeman is bullied by his son and Douglas is marrying someone four decades removed. So they all go to Vegas to have one last bachelor fling. (De Niro has to be coaxed there on false premises, but, frankly, who cares?)
I hate films in which significant money is won gambling. This is one of the great conspiracies of modern film – people have to win when they go to Vegas. On the off-chance they lose for the sake of plot, it’s always cheating or innocent mistake – a card wasn’t burned, the machine was fixed, etc. God forbid anybody does what normal people do – go to Vegas and lose money. Yeah, those hotels sure look cheap from all the money they give away, don’t they? So when Freeman wins $90K, my eyes roll into the back of my head. Nobody 
knows how to spend $90,000 like four 70-year-olds.
DeNiro is 70, Douglas is 69, Freeman is 77, Kline is 66. That’s not bad. I expected to find the ages wildly out of sync. There comes a point where all old people in Hollywood are old. Period. Doesn’t matter how old. It’s how you get things like (then) 56-year-old Olympia Dukakis playing deathbed grannie in Moonstruck.
I have enjoyed each member of our quartet in days past. Even Michael Douglas, whose skin right now is some sort of orange saddle leather. I don’t wish to be one of those people who gives up on a guy just because he’s old … what kind of human does that make you? That being said, you had these four take time from their hectic schedule of bewilderment to judge a “how hot are you?” contest. All four of you know what it is to be in Oscar-winning films and here you are making Hangover-lite – winning at blackjack, stalking hotties, hitting the dance club with this inane patter of the pretense that you can play with the twentysomethings – but we’re really all old farts, ha ha.
I warn you – the audience around me enjoyed this film as if it were good. All I can say is in a theater sporting 12 Years a Slave, Thor: The Dark World, About Time, Gravity, and a few other reasonable choices, these folks chose Last Vegas. This, of course, demonstrates the modern power of Las Vegas: It’s not a gamble if you assume you win regardless of actual outcome.
♪Last gasp, last grasp on fun
Yes, it’s our last chance
For relevance … in life
I need you to sate me, not hate me, belate me
To rate me, validate me
‘Cause when we’re bad, we’re OMG so, so , so , so , so baaaaaaaaaad
So let’s laugh, let’s clap
Let’s cheer, do not jeer
Pretend it’s all good, tonight♫
Rated PG-13, 105 Minutes
D: Jon Turteltaub
W: Dan Fogelman
Genre: Boomer Hangover
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: The crowd who loved Red 2
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Fans of The Hangover
♪Parody inspired by “Last Dance”
