A comedy of ineptitudes featuring the one-off team of Robert Wuhl and Wuhl and Eric Idle, failed musician and failed poet respectively, who become involved with a mysterious inheritance which keeps threatening their lives. It's old fashioned stuff where bodies turn up behind open doors and in the boots of cars, and there's a running gag about the name Hoo reminiscent of Abbott and Costello. Lots of simple slapstick in the Three Stooges tradition, a bit of which is almost funny, including Idle's prolonged encounter with an electric mouthwash and a telephone in that order; and Idle's hiding in a vat of wine, a gag that dates back to Laurel and Hardy. Wuhl, a Robert Preston lookalike, is notably less successful with a script that runs like a Gene Wilder-Richard Pryor reject and there's an incongrous Broadway show-style score by Marvin Hamlisch. The film is bad, but not that bad: it will play better on the small screen.

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