Film Review: Last Vegas 

Hollywood calls together its older male stars for a comic romp that isn’t all that funny.

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Last Vegas | D

We’ve never before seen Robert De Niro, Morgan Freeman, Michael Douglas and Kevin Kline crammed on a movie poster together, and this would be an impressive spectacle if it were 1992.

It’s not.

Previously, the salaries of these actors would prohibit their co-billing, but today you can bundle them for early-bird-special prices. It’s a damn shame, then, to see such a talented bunch in a regrettable project that is as indigestible as day-old scrambled eggs in a casino buffet.     

Last Vegasis a listless exercise in product placement and brand management, in which the promise of seeing such legendary performers together will supposedly cover for the lack of worthwhile material. Sadly, that isn’t the case at all.

The plot involves the reunion of lifelong friends “The Flatbush Four”: Archie (Freeman), Sam (Kline) and Paddy (De Niro), who come together for the wedding of flashy L.A attorney Billy (Douglas). Like most of Douglas’ characters, Billy is a shameless, skirt-chasing playboy, though he’s finally settled on wedding a woman nearly half his age; his pals mercilessly mock him for marrying a fetus throughout the film’s running time. The guys are summoned like a geriatric Justice League, and assembled in Las Vegas for a big blowout weekend, where they intend to party like it’s 1973 — if their artificial hips don’t give out first. Cue the tired gags about Viagra, Lipitor, hearing aids, sagging flesh and afternoon naps.

There is a mild bit of drama to go with the feeble comedy, as De Niro and Douglas revisit a feud over a mutual lost love, and the