The End

Reynolds' second film as director, casting himself as a man learning that he is terminally ill, is an engaging attempt to take the piss out of the crocodile tears that have been gleefully exploited since Love Story. The early sequences are by far the best, teasing a wry black comedy out of the revelations of inadequacy and failure of communication as the condemned man sets out to seek comfort and take leave of his loved ones. Strain shows later on as his frenzied attempts to achieve suicide, both aided and hindered by a genial lunatic (the direly mugging DeLuise), veer into Mel Brooks slapstick. Pretty funny, all the same.