Jon Turteltaub

The film is not good. There is very little good within it. It is not, however, bad. It does not have enough of substance to reach bad. It is uninterested in bad. It transcends this simple human binary. It is merely desolation. It is flavorless gum. It is an empty cardboard box. It is absence in the shape of a film.

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If the broad lowest-common denominator comedy Last Vegas is The Hangover of oldster party movies, then the indie feature Old Goats is that genre’s Best in Show.

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