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Waste of time

A waste of 90 minutes of my life

Good films always raise compelling questions, whether the format is fiction or documentary fact.

It's an amazing and heartbreaking story.

This is a total bomb. The play on which it is based is also a bomb, considering the source. The baker's dozen of super talented actors could not save this monument to mediocrity. It truly screens like the very definition of a made-for-TV movie, only from the eighties rather than 1996. It's almost as if Mr. Simon was trying to squeeze out another "Suite" as excellent and successful as the first two . . . oh, wait . . . I guess that might be the point (?!?), but apparently the only point. A very constipated mash-up of retro-'60's dialogue and '90's comedic sensibilities, there is awkwardness to be had at nearly every turn.

European and American characters intermingle in London for comedic Neil Simon stories underlined with pathos or sentiment. Simon's somewhat-withered adaptation of his play is seemingly an extension of many ideas or characters from his theatrical feature "California Suite"...and one that is not above copping ideas from other movies as well. Julia Louis-Dreyfus is an American on her honeymoon without a husband; Madeline Kahn is another tourist who goes out on a date with Scotsman Richard Mulligan (dressed up like David Niven in "Separate Tables"); Michael Richards and Julie Hagerty, in town for Wimbledon, are sidelined by slapstick-y bad luck; while actress Patricia Clarkson reunites with the ex-husband she still holds a torch for, Kelsey Grammar (playing gay). Simon's rhythm hasn't changed over the years: he sets up a joke wryly, detonates the joke dryly, and then delivers a comeback zinger. The whole movie is a series of zingers, most of which are met with stony silence (this is one sitcom that could use a laugh-track). Apparently cast with an eye on the NBC-TV market, the picture could really use some headier talent (Clarkson does well, though the supporting cast making up the staff get the biggest laughs). Louis-Dreyfus has an amusing bit telling a lie which gets bigger and bigger, and Richards' pinched nerve (while an easy target for visual jokes) has some funny repercussions. The TV production is rather cut-rate (as is the score and photography), however it's a relatively painless comedy--albeit one that is passed its prime.

It's hard to believe this was written by the famous playwright we know and love. Not only does London Suite lack humor, it lacks intelligence. All of the characters are based in stupidity which makes their ensuing plot lines a yawn to watch. The only thing notable about this story is that something so boring and silly could come from the pen of one of our wittiest and most cosmopolitan writers. I suppose there is an audience somewhere that can find entertainment in watching people's ignorance dominate their behavior, but it's not my cup of tea. The real shame is that a talented and eclectic cast of comedic actors was assembled for this un-funny script and it is so very obvious that they are each working very hard to find the essence of their character. No doubt, in the end, they realized they didn't have anything to work with and their futility comes through loud and clear in their delivery and body language. Don't bother with this unless you want to see how even a great writer can go bad.

One has to feel that Jay Sandrich, as director, has to be responsible for the weak performances from this collection of usually reliable actors. With the exception of Michael Richards and Madeline Kahn, the credited actors turn in truly shocking performances. As for the Scottish and Irish accents from Richard Mulligan, Paxton Whitehead and Jane Carr, words fail me. These are trained actors?Thankfully, the uncredited William Franklin, was, as ever, the consummate professional. If he watched the rushes, he probably requested to be left off the credit list.How Simon must have shuddered.