"The Last Kiss" is a bit ambiguous, I think, but it seems more like an indictment than of a celebration of men. (If I'm wrong, then the ending is a drippy cop-out and the worst of any good movie I've ever seen). How else does one account for the central character being arguably the most reprehensible of a nearly irredeemable lot. True, not all these guys are unsympathetic but they do exist in a tiny continuum of male bonding--which is invariably a superficial enterprise--and arrested development. They pose two choices to themselves--the boring safety of a loveless marriage or an endless all-male safari in Africa. The only exception to this group is Giulia's mother's ex-lover who is capable of both love and thought. The rest are child men who experience un-accommodating women as the pressure of unfreedom and traps. (yes, there's far more drama here than comedy) The three worst men in the group are Carlos, Alberto, and Paulo. Paulo is a fast-talking, faster-acting cad who can't settle for anything less than ownership of his partner. He expresses public hostility and violence toward both her and her new boyfriend. To him she is a ball-breaking bitch--she wears glasses, no less. Jealousy is the only real emotion he experiences. He's so caught in this swirl that he's hardly aware of his own dying father. What he needs is to escape the whole female world and so he signs on to the deserter's expedition.
Alberto is a brazen womanizer. Unlike Paulo, he has no moments of softness. He has no problem with starry-eyed lies to sincere lovers. His long hair, hipness, and cool signify nothing in terms of breaking any gender molds. In fact, he is more detestable than his more conservative buddies---who he really likes more than women, interrupting his "love-making" on their account, and as ready for the African adventure as any of them. His difference may fool enough "chicks" to keep him satisfied, but his is a phallic worldview, which offers him prerogatives and privileges he is only too willing to embrace.
Carlos, as more like everyman, showing what the average guy is capable of when his ideals are subject to a slight amount of "pressure," is perhaps the most insidious of the lot. He is a skin deep kind of guy--knowing enough but passive. He has a wandering mind, a wandering intent, a wandering consciousness. And these are what he brings to his moments of crisis. First he half cheats on a courageous--and soon ferocious wife, then he tries to lie his way back, then takes direct revenge on her by sleeping with the just discarded Francesca, and then, adopting a de-sensitized Alberto posture, checks out on this loving teen with nary a glance or a word. Finally, borrowing from fast-talking Paulo, he play-acts the wounded lover, and ingratiates himself with his wife, who eventually caves (not convincingly) for form's sake. Now Giulia has two children--she is pregnant with a girl--a daughter and a husband-son. The child man has arranged a for a child life. For the order, safety, and emotional certainty that wife and mother represent for him are now his. (Of course, Giulia, might soon disturb this placid scenario, as the final note seems to imply--looks like another child man though)
Alberto is a brazen womanizer. Unlike Paulo, he has no moments of softness. He has no problem with starry-eyed lies to sincere lovers. His long hair, hipness, and cool signify nothing in terms of breaking any gender molds. In fact, he is more detestable than his more conservative buddies---who he really likes more than women, interrupting his "love-making" on their account, and as ready for the African adventure as any of them. His difference may fool enough "chicks" to keep him satisfied, but his is a phallic worldview, which offers him prerogatives and privileges he is only too willing to embrace.
Carlos, as more like everyman, showing what the average guy is capable of when his ideals are subject to a slight amount of "pressure," is perhaps the most insidious of the lot. He is a skin deep kind of guy--knowing enough but passive. He has a wandering mind, a wandering intent, a wandering consciousness. And these are what he brings to his moments of crisis. First he half cheats on a courageous--and soon ferocious wife, then he tries to lie his way back, then takes direct revenge on her by sleeping with the just discarded Francesca, and then, adopting a de-sensitized Alberto posture, checks out on this loving teen with nary a glance or a word. Finally, borrowing from fast-talking Paulo, he play-acts the wounded lover, and ingratiates himself with his wife, who eventually caves (not convincingly) for form's sake. Now Giulia has two children--she is pregnant with a girl--a daughter and a husband-son. The child man has arranged a for a child life. For the order, safety, and emotional certainty that wife and mother represent for him are now his. (Of course, Giulia, might soon disturb this placid scenario, as the final note seems to imply--looks like another child man though)