Tony Richardson's pastel-colored retreat to the works of Henry Fielding, whose Tom Jones gave Richardson his biggest box-office windfall, boasts a few spots of knockabout comedy (the country parson sits upon a chocolate pudding, etc.). But for the most part, the sense of humor is the narrow-minded, snobbish sort that automatically finds hilarity in antiquity -- the extravagant hairstyles, the ghoulish makeup, the froufrou clothes, the scatological wit ("The only thing moving in these streets is the horses' bowels," hollers an irate nobleman, stuck in a London traffic jam). Near the end, the movie degenerates into badly timed, badly staged, and badly edited action scenes. With Ann-Margret, Peter Firth, Michael Hordern. (1977) — Duncan Shepherd
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