The sultry singing siren Jane Birkin is best known for the risque ditty Je t'aime back in 1969. After this, she still will be.

The actress, despite appearances in more than 60 movies, is to light comedy what the French government is to an ethical foreign policy.

She plays Penelope, a scatty actress of a certain age reduced to overdub work on bad horror movies to help pay her board…and the fees of psychiatrist Dr Rey.

It is during one of these sessions that the shrink keels over with a heart attack…and Penelope inexplicably assumes her role for the next patient.

Into the room walks Thomas (Merhar), a confused young man who hasn't come out of the closet to his opera diva mother - Dianne Wiest in all her OTT glory.

Unfortunately, he was in the closet when he witnessed the murder of a middle-age man - Simon Callow in camp-as-a-row-of-tents mode.

Callow had called on the confused buck to come to his apartment and hide among the hangers while he entertained a young stud...only to receive a blade in his back.

It's now up to Thomas to find out who the killer was - by calling up Parisian rent boys and observing them until he identifies the murderer.

First time writer and director Andrew Litvak seems at a loss about how to rein in some shocking overacting with Wiest and Birkin the worst offenders.

Merhar appears baffled at to why he agreed to appear while the mechanics of the plot grind like the rusty gearbox of a 20-year-old 2cv.

But it is Birkin who astounds with a miscast performance reminiscent of a middle-aged aunt high on Campari and flirting embarrassingly with bar staff 20 years her junior. Basically, she makes a right show of herself.

The fact that we are still dealing in francs here as a opposed to Euros suggests this has been languishing on a shelf for some time. Perhaps, it should have stayed there.

Tim Evans