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This is a pretty bad movie, but hard to look away from the pretty people inhabiting it. Warren Beatty was unbelievably gorgeous in his younger days. He also was a surprisingly effective and poignant actor. His performance elevates an otherwise pedestrian movie. It really is on par with a television movie, down to the cheesy soundtrack music. Elizabeth Taylor is incredibly miscast. She is lovely to look at, though rather old-looking, for some reason. She couldn't have been more than five years older than Beatty, but looks at least ten years his senior, in spite of being filmed in soft focus. She also is quite zaftig, though it's refreshing in light of the anorexic actresses one sees now. She's totally unbelievable as a showgirl. The average showgirl is tall and slender; the tiny, curvaceous Ms. Taylor would never have even gotten an audition. She also phones in her performance, which doesn't help her rather poorly-drawn character. The film is a series of relationship and situational cliches. You can predict the dialogue before it's spoken. You have to wonder, too, why a stalwart such as George Stevens would choose such a flaccid script as his final project. Someone must have waved a lot of money under these big names' noses to get this made. It's a shame to waste such directing and acting talent. But if you start watching, you probably won't be able to take your eyes off it. They don't make beauties like Beatty and Taylor in Hollywood anymore, at least with as much charisma to go with the looks.

This rarity, the last film to be directed by the great George Stevens (Shane, Giant) was shown on Turner Classic Movies (TCM).

Typically of the sort of talky romantic mush that Taylor did at this point in her career, it's set in Las Vegas. She's described as being a chorus girl (a 38 year-old one, if my maths is correct) and Beatty, a handsome club piano player, who happens to have a history of gambling woes.

He wants enough money to leave this town of temptation and bad memories, she wants him. And, when 5 year standing flame, the older, and married Charles Braswell, comes back to her, saying he's now divorced and wants to whisk her off to England, cue battle of words, emotions - and the usual. So, who will win her heart? Obviously, neither are suitable but this Hollywood!

It's largely set-bound and often argumentative; Beatty is charismatically watchable but Taylor is just doing the same act and routine, whilst Braswell, intentionally cast as the solid, boring one, is just that. Being (I guess, I couldn't find an age rating) a PG certificate, there's no sex or swearing, both of which, frankly would have added a bit of 'life' into the mix. A jazz score by Maurice Jarre does add atmosphere, though, with melancholic saxophone solos wailing into the night, which helps.

Whilst never quite slipping into tedium, the near two hour running time hardly helps but at least it looks good, with good colour and production values. There are a few casino scenes for those that like such. It's based on a play by Frank D Gilroy, who also adapted it and like so many similar dramas from theatrical sources, you can't help feeling that it'd work better on stage.

So, is it worth watching? If it comes on TV or if you know someone with a copy, yes; you won't see anything new but Lizzy Taylor still is Elizabeth Taylor and Beatty keeps it ticking over nicely. But otherwise, unless you hold a special interest in any of the actors, or the play, then, it's hardly worth pursuing.

Frank Gilroy's play brought to the screen by the great George Stevens; sadly, his last film. The maudlin characterizations by Liz and Warren just don't cut it, simply because they seem far too old and worldly to be victimized by the circumstances set forth for them. Old-fashioned in the worse way. Maurice Jarre provides one of his best scores, though.

...can now be held for the latter part of Elizabeth Taylors career. After The Taming of the Shrew(1967) it all seemed to go down hill. Check out any post Shrew movies and you will see what I mean. Here, in The Only Game, in Town Beatty and Taylor are jaded and cynical workers and lovers trying to escape Vegas, but both have their problems. Beatty is a compulsive gambler and Taylor is a cold fish unable to communicate love for fear of abandonment. It's a subtle love story and comedy that has some pretty good moments even though it runs a little slow. Don't expect anything amazing but its worth a look.

Frank D. Gilroy adapted his unsuccessful two-act play about an aging Las Vegas showgirl (Elizabeth Taylor) who picks up the piano player (Warren Beatty) in a cocktail lounge one night after work. He's a gambler who can't be trusted with money; she's on the rebound after her married lover returned to his wife. It's an oddly old-fashioned tale with nothing particularly dramatic in the set-up; the pressing issues seem to be her loneliness and his need to win big. The critics pounced on the picture, not because of Gilroy's writing or George Stevens' direction or the performances--but because of the budget ($11M), inflated by Taylor's insistence the film's interiors be shot in Paris, France (so she could be close to husband Richard Burton). Despite the wigs and insistent soft-focus close-ups, Taylor comes close to finding an interesting character here; she isn't convincing as a showgirl (shot from the shoulders up), and she doesn't exactly sizzle with Beatty, but she's easily bruised and vulnerable, and lovely when she needs to be. Beatty (filling in for Frank Sinatra, who had prior commitments) plays his dryly sarcastic role with a touch of eccentricity; he's supposed to be younger and reckless, a wild card, but some scenes--like a hopeless fishing excursion at Lake Mead (using a green screen)--are beyond his control. The color scheme of Taylor's apartment (where we're stuck most of the time)--in avocado green and gold--isn't glamorous, but the rest of the movie is. Cinematographer Henri Decae gives the picture a touch of fake-Vegas sparkle which is appealing, and all the exteriors on-location look terrific (Las Vegas becomes a big, shiny department store). What doesn't work is the back-end of Gilroy's second act, wherein Taylor hesitates over Beatty's marriage proposal. Their conversation is supposed to be a dissection of why men and women marry, what keeps them together and why the participants eventually get restless--but it goes on and on, grinding the movie to a halt. Had Stevens (whose last film this was) given us something more--a final visual zinger or a twist--"The Only Game In Town" may actually be worth a second glance. As it is, it fades in the stretch as well as in the memory. **1/2 from ****