Dishonor among thieves, two Brits and two Yanks to be exact, plus a proper bewigged barrister who's drawn into the mess. There are plenty of fresh and funny ideas: the use of foreign languages as an aphrodisiac, a gunsel who reads (but doesn't understand) Nietzsche and will fly off the handle at any mention of the obvious fact that he's "stupid." But plenty, too, of stale and no longer funny ones (if ever were funny ones): American vulgarity set against British decorum, the risibility of a stammer, the worship of household pets. The man in charge is old Charles Crichton (b. 1910), returning to the arena of his Lavender Hill Mob (1951). The dowdy stylelessness of his direction, as a substitute for flashy stylishness, is almost refreshing; but it is no substitute for true and individual style. With John Cleese, Kevin Kline, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Michael Palin. (1988) — Duncan Shepherd
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