Movie review: Last Vegas

280. That's the combined age of the four main actors in this film: Robert De Niro, Michael Douglas, Morgan Freeman and Kevin Kline. And if that wasn't enough of a reminder that they're all getting on a bit, the film will certainly drill the point home.

Meet the Flatbush Four: Billy (Douglas), Paddy (De Niro), Archie (Freeman) and Sam (Kline). Not only have they been friends since school, they've remained so for nearly sixty years.

When Billy announces that he's decided to get married – to a 32 year old woman no less – Sam and Archie decide to throw him a bachelor party in the town he's getting married in, which just so happens to be Las Vegas. They even manage to drag party pooper Paddy along, despite his whinging.

In one of the casinos they meet singer Diana (Mary Steenburgen); with both Billy and Paddy taking a shine to her, past feelings and emotions soon return to the pair, causing a fair amount of friction between the all.

That said, it doesn't put too much of a damper on proceedings as all of them look to let down their hair, what's left of it, in Sin City and party like there's no tomorrow, which let's face it, is a distinct possibly with this particular group.

If it all sounds like The Hangover for OAP's, that would probably be giving the film a little too much credit. Although its set in Vegas, often portrayed for being a raucous and reckless playground, it comes across more of a glitzy care home with gambling, more than it would like. Its writer Dan Fogelman, who has penned mostly animated tales, such as Cars, Bolt and Tangled (so it's ironic that he ends up a writing a live action flick with a far from animated cast), certainly pushes the aging gags, but certainly doesn't get past the elbow, never mind near the knuckle, in terms of more suggestive material. Think The Golden Girls in Vegas and you're pretty much there.

Kudos to Douglas for playing a character who is about to marry a woman half his age, but then again they do say act what you know. It certainly won't do any of their careers any harm, and as far as Kevin Kline in particular is concerned, it may serve as a timely remind that neither he nor his career or dead just yet.

It may be geriatrically generic, but still manages to deliver some gentle laughs along the way. But if the idea of seeing your dad twerking physically repulses you, then this might be more horrific than you can possibly handle.

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