We need more directors willing to take risks with films like Get Out.
Now here's an appallingly dimwitted comedy. It's about marriage, I guess, and about how so many people are getting divorced these days that if you find yourself still together after 20 years you can almost wonder if you're "The Last Married Couple in America." But the people in this movie seem so spaced out about why they're married or divorced that the real miracle is how they lace their shoes in the morning.
There's nothing more cloying than a film about "real" people in which the people talk like prisoners of a sitcom, and the plot is so painfully artificial that even the actors seem incredulous. But that's what we have here. The plot's so awkwardly put together we can almost overhear the story conferences on the sound track. The movie makes it necessary, for example, for the happily married couple to break up, and so they do, but there's no reason for it and we're never convinced that anything in this movie is inspired by any kind of authentic human motivation.
The last married couple of the title is played by George Segal and Natalie Wood. They live in one of those modest little $2 million Southern California homes where you can pack the kids off to the family wing and they'll hardly even know there's an orgy going on. He's a professional man of some sort, and she sculpts - which means that there is a block of stone in the movie and once or twice she takes a lick at it with a chisel.
All of their friends are getting divorced, we learn. And most of them seem headed for the further shores of sex. There's a hot-blooded divorcee (Valerie Harper) who's always hot to trot, and an old plumber friend (Dom DeLuise) who's married a hooker and becomes a porno movie star. And so on. Wood and Segal are bewildered by these salvos from the sexual revolution, until Segal succumbs to Valerie Harper's charms, they head for a motel together, and, wouldn't you know, it, he contracts VD.