Richard Pryor is a convicted con man who talks and shrieks and convulses his way into a psycho ward for observation and then has to impersonate a doctor after he escapes in the midst of a hurricane. The frequent injections of Sixties-vintage liberalism -- about things like the superior humanity, not to say sanity, of certified lunatics over administrative bureaucrats -- may have helped director Michael Apted (28 Up, etc.) to get to sleep at night during the shooting. But it is not enough for a comedy to be frequently liberal; it must still be occasionally funny. And this one is funny never. The witty putdowns are pretty much all on the level of "You're a penis head, you know that?" And Apted even misses an obvious opportunity at an underground in-joke when he reunites the lovers from Paul Morrissey's Heat in the same cast -- Joe Dallesandro, Sylvia Miles -- and then neglects to give them a single scene together. And our natural (liberal, human, humane) concern about the health of the leading actor, who looks alarmingly gaunt, even without the prompting of any gossip from Liz Smith, is hardly conducive to a climate of humor. Especially hospital humor. With Rachel Ticotin and Ruben Blades. (1987) — Duncan Shepherd
This movie is not currently in theaters.