I am in an extremely bad mood right now and irascible Shirley MacLaine just ain’t doin’ it for me. Of course, I’m not sure she does it for me when I’m in a good mood. The Last Word is an exceedingly poor idea for a movie – a rich old bat staves off ending her life soured by the loneliness of alienation just so see can get final say over her own obituary. This is as obnoxious as ideas get – sure, nobody wants to be remembered as a bitter, thankless curmudgeon, but you don’t get to dictate how people feel about you after you’re gone. That’s bullshit.
It gets worse – to rectify the situation, Harriet (MacLaine) takes on a project, an “at risk” minority child, Brenda (AnnJewel Lee Dixon). This personal redemption is worse than Scrooge; she’s not even acting out of conscience, but pure ego. She basically storms into a homeless shelter and selects a little girl to impart wisdom onto, not unlike – well, I don’t want to use a slaves-at-an-auction-block analogy, that’s not quite right, but how would you describe it? Old moneyed white women bullies her way into not exactly a public facility, fingers her personal Eve to bestow wisdom upon, and leaves, protégé in tow, not a question asked, neither a protest voiced. This isn’t how it works, and to illustrate, lemme offer the converse: a small black girl enters an old folks home, scouts the terrain, IDs some old Bea Arthur biddy and carts her away saying, “she’s my grandma now!” How exactly would we feel about that? Let me add that the case of an adult selecting a child is even worse for the obvious reason that the child is the pawn.
Now, that all said, The Last Word isn’t terrible; in fact, it’s pretty watchable. Anne (Amanda Seyfried) is the obit writer having to deal with ancient control freak Harriet (MacLaine). Being the consistent benefactor of a dying company, Harriet has the newspaper by the sack, so she gets to dictate Anne’s personal attention and Anne finds what we all see: Harriet is lonely for good reason, she alienates everybody she encounters. Her gardener (Gedde Watanabe, a Gedde Watanabe sighting!), hair dresser and maid all have learned to deal; Harriet does their jobs after her drill-sergeant-like personal inspection finds them wanting. Strangers are a different case; nobody deals with this woman for a second longer than they have to. Anne is no exception. Like us, she is appalled about having to write a pre-obit, especially for such an inflexible, pedantic grouch. Oh, please be a buddy pic. Please, please, please be a buddy pic.
I suppose I gave The Last Word a chance because Harriet knows deep down she needs to become somebody worth remembering. Yeah, it’s not exactly the most noble of motivations, and it’s blanketed under the ruse of legacy, but asking an octogenarian to self-improve is not an easy task under any circumstances. Oddly enough, this eventually becomes a road picture when Harriet decides to visit her estranged daughter. The tri-generational
roadtrip format is not unlike Logan, that is if Patrick Stewart had been the star instead of Hugh Jackman, oh, and also except for the body count. Now there’s a thought – let’s switch the three in this film with the three in that film. Let’s see Amanda Seyfried eviscerate foes while Hugh Jackman protects his writing journal from prying eyes.
I cannot love The Last Word; there’s just too much ugly in the plot to relish. The movie rumbles along aimlessly, completely oblivious to the idea that it has presented a world in which we should respect Harriet when she’s getting away with encroachments that many of us could be jailed for. I honestly cannot tell if this film is a plea to rage against the dying of the light or a cynical homage to white privilege. Hence, I’ll say this – if you don’t have a problem with white privilege or have convinced yourself there’s no such thing and don’t mind the antics of a demanding fossil, well, this might be the movie for you. For the rest, it’s cringe-worthy, but not entirely unacceptable.
♪When I grow colder, losing my heir
Getting in a row
Will you still be writing that obit of mine?
“Mother of one, lived life divine”
If I DJ ‘til quarter to three
Would you stomp the floor?
Will you still hate me, eviscerate me
When I’m eighty-four?
You’ll be colder too
And if you sell your soul
I’ll never leave you
I could be handy, causing a feud
When your life’s a yawn
You can stomach all the formaldehyde
Humble pie much? Open up wide
Trolling your workplace, choosing your dates
(Big) Sister won’t ignore
Might just ring a bell; it’s like George Orwell
Nineteen Eighty-Four♫
Rated R, 108 Minutes
D: Mark Pellington
W: Stuart Ross Fink
Genre: Cranky old white woman gets her way
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: Cranky old white women
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Fans of humility
♪ Parody inspired by “When I’m Sixty-Four”
