Burt
Reynolds famously appeared naked in the pages of Cosmopolitan, but his
performance in The Last Movie Star might be the most naked he’s ever been. He bares his soul in this film. Although Burt may have argued he was more of
a “star” than an “actor”, his performance here proves otherwise. In a career full of wonderful performances,
this ranks right up there with his best stuff.
Burt
plays an old movie star named Vic Edwards who gets an invitation to go to
Nashville to pick up a lifetime achievement award. When he gets there, he is dismayed to learn
it’s nothing more than a bunch of hipster film buffs showing movies in the back
room of a saloon. He promptly gets drunk
and tells everyone off before retreating to his hotel room. The next day, he orders his driver Lil (Ariel
Winter) to take him to the airport. On
the way there, he asks her to drive past his old neighborhood, so he can see
the house he grew up in.
Thus
begins Vic’s journey of self-discovery.
Along the way, he comes to terms with his past, accepts his present, and
learns to be hopeful for the future. He even manages to impart some life lessons
to Lil, who goes from seeing him as “some creepy old dude” to a sort of father
figure and mentor.
The
Last Movie Star was written and directed by Adam Rifkin as a love letter to
Burt. He’s stated that if Burt turned
him down, he’d refuse to make the movie.
That makes sense, but I also think that only Rifkin could’ve told this
particular story. After all, we’re
talking about the man who made The Chase, the closest anyone has ever come to
replicating the feel and fun of Smokey and the Bandit.
Your
enjoyment of The Last Movie Star may depend largely on how much baggage you
bring into it. If you’re only a casual
Burt Reynolds fan, you might find it to be a pleasant dramedy. If you’re like me and worship at the altar of
all things Burt, it will be a heartbreaking, devastating, exhilarating, and
reaffirming experience. That’s because
Burt is mostly playing a thinly veiled version of himself. When he is pouring his soul out about lost
loves, career failures, and past regrets, he could just as easily be talking
about himself. Because of that, the film
largely has a documentary vibe to it.
Rifkin’s style is unobtrusive, and the more personal moments feel more spontaneous than scripted.
The
scenes of Reynolds and his buddy, played by Chevy Chase have a loose,
off-the-cuff feeling about them. They
are so good together than you’ll wonder why someone didn’t think to put them in
a movie sooner. The heart of the film
belongs to Burt and Ariel Winter. They
make for a mismatched team on the surface, but their chemistry together is truly
something special. Burt’s had a lot of
memorable leading ladies over the years and Winter holds her own with the best of
them. There’s a scene where she rattles
off a never-ending list of prescriptions she’s taken for depression while Burt
patiently listens that is really touching.
The
standout moments come when Burt is transported into scenes from his two biggest
hits, Smokey and the Bandit and Deliverance.
He tries to give his younger self advice (he tells the Bandit, “Slow
down!”), although he’s fully aware that it’ll do no good. Not only are these scenes fun to watch if
you’re a Burt fan, it deftly does two things simultaneously: It allows Burt to make peace with his past
while reminding the audience of just how earthshattering a phenomenon he was
back in the ‘70s.
Throughout
the movie, Burt is unafraid to show his age.
He uses a cane and walks with a stoop.
He speaks a little slower, and his movements are often fragile (and
sometimes painful to watch). However,
the old Burt is still there, razor sharp as ever. The putdowns he makes under his breath are
hilarious. On the outset, The Last Movie
Star seems like it’s about Burt saying goodbye.
By the end, we realize it’s a statement that he still has plenty left in
the tank.
AKA: Dog Years.
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